ME:Who are you?
There’s another long pause before the dots finally start dancing while he types. I hold my breath the entire time.
GHOST:That’s what makes it fun, isn’t it?
I stare at the screen, not knowing what to reply to that. He just refused to tell me. Worse—he just used my own words to refuse. This is something I’ve said before, more than once, and right now, it’s coming right back to bite me.
Another message comes through.
GHOST:Goodnight, Bunny.
I swallow, not sure why it bothers me so much now. He’s asked me for my name countless times, even threatened to tell me his—to which I’ve always replied with deflection. I’m the one who wanted to keep this anonymous. So why does it bother me so much now?
I lie back, blinking at the ceiling. My thighs are still trembling a little. And somewhere behind this wall, he’s there.
And Ghost? I have no idea where or who he is.
But I’ll be damned if I don’t find out.
Chapter eleven
~JACE~
Coffee. That’s what I’m doing. Making coffee for Melody like a sane, decent man. Which is hilarious, considering I spent last night jacking off in the dark like a deranged fuck, listening to the girl I can’t have fall apart on the other side of the wall.
At first, I thought it was just one of the girls the guys dragged in.
But it only took two moans for me to recognize the voice. Her voice—sweet, unsteady, and unmistakable. I know exactly what she sounded like when I kissed her in the ocean. Only, this sounded like she was trying to keep quiet but couldn’t help it. And I listened. With my hand around my cock and my jaw clenched, I listened to her come.
The question is, who did she come to? Ghost? Me? Which is hilarious because it’s all me. Maybe hilarious isn’t the right word for it—maybe it’s ridiculous, torturous, and downright unhinged. But I’m so far beyond coming up to her and saying, Hey, you know that guy you’ve been texting? Yeah, let me hold your hand while I tell you this…
She’d chop my balls off. Hell, I’m sure she’d do it now without needing any extra reason to. I’m not sure if she kissed me because, in some ways, I remind her of him… of myself. Shit, this is a mess.
I pour the coffee into a glass half full of ice and add almond milk, which I specifically bought for her. I got some weird stares from my teammates and had to lie that Zed is lactose intolerant. No one would dare ask him if it’s true anyway, so it was the quickest and safest lie I could come up with. I scoop up the bacon and add it to the eggs.
I know why she ran away from me last night. And it sure as fuck wasn’t because I’m her brother’s best friend. No. It was because Ghost fucking cockblocked me. I cockblocked myself.
One second she was kissing me back with her legs around me, the next her face changed. She looked at me like she’d crossed some invisible line and realized she was kissing the wrong man. But there is no wrong man. There’s just me.
And then she texted me. Texted him. Who are you? I stared at that message so long I see it behind my damn eyelids when I blink.
All this time, I’ve been the one begging for scraps. Trying to pull something—anything—out of her. Her name. A clue. A fucking hint. And she’d laugh. Say anonymity’s fun, and shut me out again. But now? Now the tables have turned, and I’m the one withholding it from her.
And if she wants Ghost that badly—if she wants to know who he is, if she’s finally ready to play the game she created—then she’s gonna have to try a little harder. I’m done handing myself over.
I’m still going to make her breakfast, though. So, I grab the tray and head upstairs. My heart’s steady, but my cock’s not. Every step reminds me of how she looked when she stepped out of the ocean—hair wet, body glistening from the water.
And then the moaning. How hard would she dropkick me if she knew I jacked off to her on the other side of the wall?
I reach the door to my old room on autopilot and knock. Seconds pass, feeling like minutes, before the door slowly opens.
I take a deep breath and plaster on my best smile. Wild, untamed hair is what I see first, then the sleepy eyes, flushed cheeks, and lips still swollen with sleep. Her shirt’s hanging off one shoulder and her legs are bare, making my grip tighten around the tray.
She freezes as soon as she sees me, her big, dark eyes rounding at the corners when they meet mine.
Say something, dipshit.
“Breakfast?” I offer, voice low.
