The second I put the car in park, Dom unbuckles and pushes his door open like he’s got a Red Bull drip running through his veins. I follow him, walking around my black Shelby Super Snake.
“We seriously need to tighten up this week,” he says, yanking his bag from the trunk with one arm. “I watched that footage of our last practice again. Our forecheck was fucking embarrassing.”
I grunt, stepping up to grab Melody’s suitcase. “Fuck, Dom. Can we breathe for five seconds before you start running drills in your head?”
“No,” he cuts, slamming the trunk shut. “Vacation’s over. Tomorrow. Nine a.m. sharp.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, dragging the suitcase around, my entire body humming like I’m wired to blow.
Because Melody’s right there, standing on the sidewalk, arms folded, hair messy, lip between her teeth like she’s trying to pretend we’re not both remembering how I face-fucked her this morning.
“Here, Mel.” I hand her the suitcase, and our fingers brush. It’s nothing, just a blink of contact, but my whole fucking system reacts like I’ve been electrocuted.
“Thanks, Jace,” she murmurs, trying her best to act like she can’t still taste me on her tongue.
“Don’t be late tomorrow.” Dom claps a hand on my shoulder. “Coach is on one lately.”
“I’m not late,” I mutter, still staring straight ahead.
“You’re the one always rolling in with one skate laced.” He raises a brow.
“Bullshit,” I scoff.
Melody chuckles quietly behind us, and my heart goes straight to my dick.
Fuck me.
I risk a glance. She’s wheeling her suitcase next to Dom’s duffel bag, smiling to herself.
I don’t want her to go home. I don’t want to go back home without her either. I want to ditch Dom, take his sister, and go back to the beach house where I get to look at that smile forever.
Now that I’ve touched her, tasted her, talked to her, had her… letting her go feels impossible.
Dom slings his bag over his shoulder and heads toward the front door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he calls. “Don’t be late.”
“Go stretch or something,” I shout back.
Dom’s halfway up the front steps, jangling his keys like a dad coming home from work.
“Don’t forget, Matthews—nine sharp. Not nine-ish. And don’t be hungover either.”
“I’m never late,” I mutter.
Melody walks past me, suitcase in hand, dressed in a loose oversized tee that should not be allowed to make my cock twitch, but here we fucking are.
I flash her my usual grin, the one Dom’s seen a thousand times.
“See you around, Melody,” I say casually with a lazy tilt of my head. No heat, no evidence.
Just two people who definitely don’t know what the other’s mouth tastes like.
“Later, Jace,” she replies, her voice just a notch too soft.
I give her one last wink, tongue in cheek, still wearing the mask. And then I turn back toward the car, tossing Dom a quick, “See you tomorrow,” over my shoulder.
“Don’t be late.”
