“Because he gives you a version of him that feels safe to you. You get to control what he sees, and he gets to control what you see and what he gives back.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“But that guy on your brother’s team?” she continues. “He’s real, and he’s unpredictable. And maybe that’s why it’s scarier.”
I say nothing, because she’s right. Ghost is curated. He says the right thing because he has time to come up with it, and I’m the one making up his tone of voice in my head. Half of him is just the fruit of my imagination living in my mind.
And Jace is raw. He’s physical, and completely not someone I should be losing sleep over—but here we are.
“You’re going to keep spiraling like this,” Lennie adds gently, “until you figure out what the hell you actually want.”
“What if I want both?” I whisper, before I can stop my thoughts from spilling out of my mouth.
“You can’t have both, Mel,” she scoffs into the phone.
I lie there in the dark, guilt bleeding through my veins, while the party continues outside. Lennie is silent, not pushing or probing, simply being here.
Jace’s kiss still burns on my lips, Ghost’s name is still tucked away in my phone, and I’m slowly losing my mind.
I lie in bed, blanket tucked under my chin, eyes locked on the ceiling. There’s still faint music echoing from downstairs, bass thudding through the floorboards, and voices trailing into drunken laughter. Underneath all of that is moaning—high and unmistakably pleased. It’s coming from somewhere outside. One of the girls is finally getting her moment with an NHL star.
The sounds definitely aren’t helping my current state of mind… and my throbbing clit. I’m still thinking about him, and not just the kiss or the press of his hard body, or the size of him. I’m thinking about the way he looked while we talked on the beach. He let his guard down for a few moments and I saw it. Thecocky smirk had faded just long enough for me to see something different behind it.
And the raspberry wine. I never told him I liked raspberry wine—just like I never told him I hate pickles.
There are things about Jace that don’t make sense.
I shift under the covers, my legs rubbing together. The memory of him is too strong. My stomach does that stupid flip each time my mind decides to play everything on repeat. And right now, it’s deciding to remind me of how he felt pressed against my stomach, hard and thick. It felt so big it made my entire body lock up when I realized what I was feeling.
If he’d kept going…
I turn my head to look at the wall. He’s on the other side, just a few feet away. I let my mind carry me to that place, for just a moment, needing to be honest with myself, even if it’s in secret. I press my hand over my stomach. What if I hadn’t run? What if he hadn’t let me go?
I close my eyes, remembering the weight of his hands as they gripped my waist and pulled me against him. He made me feel like every part of me was designed to be touched by him.
My eyes snap open, my mind warring with itself, reminding me of Ghost. The soft words in the dark, the man who’s held my soul in his hands for ten months without ever seeing my face.
Ghost doesn’t kiss me, doesn’t touch me. But he talks to me like I’m worth fighting the world for.
Jace makes my body ache. Ghost makes my soul sing.
And tonight they blend together, and I finally admit to myself what has been nagging at the back of my mind since I met Jace. They’re the same height, same build, same cocky little remarks that drew me in.
I close my eyes and I let it take me.
One man behind me—big, broad, cocky. Jace. One man in front—wearing a Ghostface mask—tall, silent, and dangerous. They press against me, skin to skin.
My hand slides past my stomach and underneath the waistband of my sleep shorts, imagining theirs instead of mine.
One holds my wrists above my head, the other slowly spreads my thighs. Both of them are talking. One voice is honey and arrogance. The other is smoke and shadows.
“Look at you,”Jace murmurs behind me, kissing down my spine.“Already wet and we haven’t even started yet.”
Ghost tilts my chin up and all I can see are the black eyeholes of the mask.
“You’re going to take both of us tonight,”he says, voice low and muffled.
I whimper. In real life, alone in a bed I definitely shouldn’t be doing this in.
