Prologue #2
He shrugs nonchalantly. “The fact that you’re turning purple while glaring at me is a pretty good indicator that there’s something going on in that big old noggin of yours.
And those”—he points at my fists, which are balled tightly at my side—“are also a pretty good indicator that you’re having violent thoughts. ”
I blink at him a few times. I’m seconds away from losing my ever-loving shit on him, and he’s making jokes like I’m not actively stopping myself from beating the fuck out of him?
“Are you?” he continues conversationally. “Having violent thoughts about me?”
“Shut up.”
He grins. “Did I strike a nerve?”
“Shut. Up.”
“Or what?” He slips his hands back in his pockets. “Are you going to push me again?” He tilts his head to the side and studies me for a beat. “Or maybe you want to take a swing and finish what you started during Hell Week.”
“What I started?” I splutter.
He nods.
“I didn’t start anything.” I squeeze my hands so tight my knuckles crack.
“Really? Because I remember you being the one to throw the first punch. And the second one.” He blinks innocently at me. “So unless my memories are wrong, you started it.”
He isn’t wrong. I was the first one to swing, and I also threw a second punch before he retaliated, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to take responsibility for the fight. It never would have happened if he hadn’t pushed me to the point where shutting him up with my fists was my best option.
“Go ahead.” He rocks back and forth on his feet a few times in a casual move that somehow makes him look both bored and condescending at the same time.
“Go ahead?” I repeat stupidly. What the fuck is he talking about?
“Yeah, go ahead.” He taps one cheek with his hand, then slips it back in his pocket. “Have a freebie.”
I blink at him a few times as my brain sort of short-circuits. What the actual fuck is happening? How did we go from me shoving him away to him telling me to take a free swing at him?
“Come on,” he goads. “You know you want to. Imagine how good it’ll feel to take whatever the fuck is going on with you out on me.” His grin goes feral. “Are you really going to pretend you don’t want to do it? That you haven’t dreamed about this moment?”
“Fuck. You.”
He laughs. “That wasn’t a no.”
My arm feels heavy as I become hyperaware of the fact that my fist is literally locked and loaded and ready to do exactly what he’s trying to goad me into, and I have to fight the urge to give him exactly what he’s asking for.
He flicks his gaze to my hand, like he knows how close I am to letting go and knocking him the fuck out. “Come on, Shaney.”
My hackles rise even higher at the stupid nickname. I’ve always hated being called Shaney, and Jace is literally the only person on the planet who still does it because he knows how much it pisses me off.
“When are you going to have another chance like this?” He rakes his gaze up and down my body. “You know you want to.”
Something about the look in his eyes makes me pause. There’s humor in it, but there’s also something else I can’t place. It’s dark and wild and chaotic like him, but there’s an undertone of heat to it that I can’t stop from zeroing in on.
Jace is a giant flirt, and I’m used to his innuendos and the random sexual comments he likes to throw my way when he’s being a dick, but he’s never looked at me like that before.
I’m so taken aback by the answering flare of heat deep in my belly that I kind of freeze and stare at him like a dumbass.
“Are you buffering?” he asks with a smirky smile that sends another flare of heat through me. “Or maybe you’re in power-saving mode?”
I shake off my stupor and glare at him. “Last chance to get the fuck out of here.”
“And what are you going to do if I don’t get the fuck out of here?”
“I’m going to give you exactly what you want,” I say menacingly.
“And what do I want?” he asks, his eyes gleaming with laughter.
“You want me to start something so you can tell everyone that I attacked you.”
He snickers. “Yeah, that’s not what I want. Not even close.”
“Then what the fuck do you want?” I demand, my head spinning from the twists and turns the conversation has taken so far.
He rakes his eyes up and down my body again, and the way he drags his teeth over his bottom lip makes my entire body tighten, and not with anger. “Nothing I can say in polite company.”
My stomach does this weird flip-flop, and the little rush of good feels it sends through me is as confusing as it is unexpected.
What the fuck is going on with me?
The corner of Jace’s mouth lifts in a smirk as he fixes his icy blue/gray eyes on me. The good feels immediately dissipate, replaced with more of that white-hot rage from before.
“Walk away,” I tell him. “Or else.”
“Or else what? You do realize that you could just walk away if you don’t want to be here.
No one is forcing you to stay.” He tosses a lock of hair that fell over his forehead back from his face with a quick flick of his head.
“So the fact that you’re still here means you want to be here. That’s on you, bro.”
He’s right. I could have walked away at any point, and the only reason this conversation is still going on is because I haven’t.
“So, are you going to do something about whatever the fuck is going on with you? Or are you going to get the fuck out of my face?” he asks.
His tone is light and breezy, but there’s an edge under his words that sends another rush of anger through me.
“Or maybe you want to be in my face.” He casually rocks back and forth on his feet again. “Is that it, Shaney? Do you secretly like fighting with me and you’re actually getting your daily jollies in while pretending I’m the problem?”
My vision goes red, and I can feel the last of my control snapping like a rubber band that’s been stretched too far.
The world around me fades in and out of focus, and the next thing I know, my fist is connecting with the side of Jace’s face.
He doesn’t flinch or even try to deflect my punch, and watching his head snap to the side from the force of my hit isn’t nearly as satisfying as it should be.
“Not bad.” He shoots me an infuriating smirk. “Next time, try stepping into it and keeping your swing arc tighter. That’ll give it more oomph. But not bad.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? I just clocked you in the fucking face, and you’re giving me hitting advice? What’s your damage?”
“A lot.” He grins. “And I’m just trying to be helpful and give you some pointers. Isn’t that what brothers do?”
“You’re insane.”
“So they say.” He flips his hair back with another flick of his head. “Now, are you going to finish what you started, or are you going to get the fuck out of my face before I get bored?” He gives me a little smirk. “And trust me when I say you don’t want to be around when I get bored.”
I know I should walk away and end this before anything else happens, but the more I try to convince myself to move, the more it feels like my feet are glued to the floor.
“That’s what I thought.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Now be a good boy and shoo.”
His childish dismissal cuts through my last remaining shred of self-restraint, and I launch myself at Jace, every rational thought flying from my mind as my rage finally takes over.
He doesn’t even try to block me as I grab two handfuls of his hoodie, but instead of shoving him back, I throw him to the side, keeping my hold on him as I slam him into the wall and pin him against it with my body.
He laughs, fucking laughs, and loosely grips my wrists. “Feel better?”
Another rush of anger hits at his words, and instead of answering him, I yank him off the wall and throw him to the floor.
Jace tightens his grip on me, and he’s smiling like a deranged Cheshire cat as he drags me down with him.
We hit the floor so hard the walls shake from the impact, and Jace wastes no time as he throws our combined weight to the side and rolls us over so he’s on top, his strong body over mine as he pins me to the floor.
More rage fills me, and all thoughts of technique or self-control fly from my mind as we roll around and battle for dominance in the tiny space.
I manage to get him under me a few times but can’t keep control for more than a couple of seconds before I find myself on my back with him on top.
His soft grunts mix with mine, and the heat from his body seeps into my skin everywhere we touch. It almost feels like there’s an electric current moving between us, and my rage is replaced with horror when I realize I’m hard.
And I’m not the only one who is.
Jace takes advantage of my distraction and slams me into the hardwood, then scrambles on top of me in a hold that has all four of my limbs pinned to the point I’m completely immobile.
“Well, hello there.” He smiles down at me and grinds his equally hard dick against mine. “Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you enjoying having me on top of you?”
I’m too stunned—and mortified—to fight anymore and just lie under him as I try to will my dick to deflate.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Shaney.” He grinds down on me again, then lets go of my wrists and sits up so he’s straddling my hips, his ass pressing down on my dick. “You’re not the first guy to get a boner from having me on top, and you won’t be the last.”
He doesn’t resist as I push him off me, and I scramble away from him, tripping and falling a few times as I attempt to get to my feet.
Jace, on the other hand, is the epitome of grace as he climbs to his feet, a cocky grin on his face to match the anaconda he apparently has in his pants.
He glances at my cock, which is tenting the front of my pants. “Not bad,” he muses. “Someone’s definitely gifted in the dick department. Maybe you should let him out so we can become better acquainted.”
The lusty gleam in his eyes knocks me out of my stupor like a blast of cold water, and my flight instincts kick in as I spin on my heel and sprint away from him like the devil is on my ass.
“Good talk,” he calls, and his laughter is the last thing I hear before the stairwell door slams closed behind me.