“Keep it,” he says, voice quiet now, rougher. Like it’s not a suggestion, but an order.
He turns and walks away, back towards the glass doors. Back to my brother, who definitely didn’t see this. Otherwise, this man would be lying on the floor with a concussion.
Back to the patio.
Back to Dom, like I didn’t just stop breathing for a full minute.
He leaves me standing there, knees weak, my clit throbbing, and one single thought echoing through my head like a warning.
His name is Jace. And I don’t know if I came down here for lemonade,
or for this.
It starts the same way it always does. The mask, the hands. The voice like smoke and sin, curling against the shell of my ear as I stand frozen in the dark.
I can’t see his face. I never see his face.
But his touch, his presence, his heat pressing into me—it’s all him. It’s always him.
Ghost.
He corners me against the wall of a place that doesn’t exist, somewhere between memory and fantasy. His hand wraps gently around my throat, thumb grazing the base of my jaw, holding me still without hurting me.
I tilt my head back, breathing ragged, and he leans in close. Our mouths barely touching.
“You’ve been thinking about me again,” he murmurs.
His fingers trail down the center of my chest, over my bare skin, slow and taunting.
I nod as he slips behind me, his hand splaying across my stomach as he pulls me flush against him. His mouth brushes my neck, lips parting, teeth grazing.
“You looked so good in my hoodie,” he says, voice molten.
I freeze. What?
“Looked so good on you,” he adds, and something inside me twists, hard and hot and wrong.
His fingers slip beneath my panties, dragging over my wet pussy. A whimper slips past my lips, my knees threatening to give out.
“Fuck, you’re soaked. And I haven’t even started.”
I start to turn toward him, to say something, but stop as his other hand comes up to his face. The mask he’s never removed in my dreams before slowly lifts. My breath catches, and my eyes close involuntarily.
“Open your eyes, Bunny.” His mouth dips close to my ear.
I open them, just as his mask falls away. And underneath it… is Jace. His face is inches from mine, eyes burning into me, unapologetic and wicked.
My entire body detonates. A deep throb blooms low in my belly, and I jolt awake. My chest heaves as I sit up, drenched in sweat and heat.
The image clings to me. Jace, in Ghost’s place. Ghost’s touch. Ghost’s hunger.
But it was Jace’s face. Jace’s mouth.
My breathing’s too fast, my pulse thundering. It takes me a full ten seconds to realize where my hand is. Between my legs, pressed against slick cotton. And the worst part is that I’m already moving it, rubbing in circles. Slow, tentative, and guilty—but still moving.
My eyes flutter closed and my back arches, my brain still in a haze. I touch myself like I’m still dreaming, and if I don’t open my eyes, I can stay in that moment.
My breath comes fast and shallow. My hips shift as I chase it. Him. Them.
