“We can’t do this,” I whisper, shaking with lust, guilt, and desire.
His tongue slowly drags across the bite. He tastes the blood—and grins.
Because he knows my words are useless. He knows they mean nothing when his tongue’s already memorized the shape of mouth—like taking cover from the rain after the storm’s already drenched you.
The storm is right in front of me, the danger of giving in to it still lurking.
So what do I do?
I bend down, grab my phone, and bolt like a coward.
I sprint toward the lights coming from Jace’s house and the music spilling through the trees.
I don’t need to turn around to know he’s already following me—yet I still do.
He’s stalking after me, his shorts finally on. The empty bottle and glasses dangle from his hand as he walks. The muscles on his torso twist and dance with every step he takes, illuminated by the moonlight.
And then he stops, looking at me silently, eyes pinning me in place like a wild animal’s.
My heart’s erratic, the low pulsing between my legs gets worse, and I instinctively take a step back.
“Run, Melody,” he murmurs—but I hear it clearly.
And I do.
I turn and start running again toward the house, secretly hoping that someday he’ll catch me.
The music’s still going outside, low and thumping against the open windows as I lay in bed. Laughter echoes from the deck, someone yells something about beer pong, and I hear Dom’s voice snap back a reply.
It’s a comforting sound, one I’d be falling asleep to if I wasn’t thinking about his teammate. I spent so much time wondering what he would taste like, what it would feel like if he kissed me, touched me. Now it’s even worse, because I found out and I want more. Because now that I’ve gotten a taste of him, now that I’ve felt what he’s working with, all I can think about is how he’d use it if I let him. Would he be gentle? Rough? Or would he be an intoxicating mix of both?
My thighs press together automatically. I can’t stop thinking about it. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? I’m not supposed to want Jace.
I’m supposed to want the man who remembers the smallest details about me, who makes me feel like I’m something more than a daughter my parents want to marry off—something more than a shadow behind Dom’s name.
And tonight I almost threw it all away.
Outside, someone cracks open a beer. There’s more laughter, more off-key singing, and more splashing from someone jumping into the pool for a midnight swim.
I reach for my phone again just in time to feel it buzz with an incoming call from Lennie, whom I’ve been on the phone with for the past twenty minutes.
I pick up and put the phone on speaker, tossing it next to me on the bed.
“Okay,” Lennie’s voice comes through. “I brushed my teeth. Where were we?”
“Me cheating on Ghost,” I sigh, closing my eyes.
“You’re not even dating him,” Lennie scolds me. “You’ve been talking to him for almost a year and you still won’t meet up with him.”
“I don’t want to ruin what we have.” I blink up at the ceiling, taking a long breath.
“What you have is a digital situationship with a guy who might be a catfish, a priest, or someone with three secret families.”
“He’s not a priest,” I laugh, but it’s weak.
“Shame, because you need exorcising.”
“It doesn’t feel fake when I’m talking to him.” I roll over to the side, staring at the open window.
