Mischief was my greatest kept secret. The side of me I’d never expose.
There was nothing on earth that rivaled the rush I got when I sat down inside
Circuit every night, fingers twitching with the need to use hacking to change
the world. Mischief lit me on fire and there was nothing that could compare.
Or so I thought.
Brett Maddison burst into my life, hair like honey and dimples deep
enough to make any man’s knees weak. It was then I learned the truth. Mischief
was no longer the only thing that caused my heart to pulse two beats faster and
blood to blaze beneath the surface of my skin.
The feelings I had for Brett knocked me off my course and took me on a
rollercoaster of emotions I’d never felt before. It took meeting him to
recognize what I’d been missing, and suddenly, Mischief wasn’t the only thing
in my life I craved deeply.
For a split second, I thought I’d hit the jackpot in life. I was proven
wrong the moment unexplained emails began to flood my inbox and the questions
they brought went unanswered.
Then I got my answer.
And everything changed.
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him though I didn’t need to. I knew what Ace looked like. Had every inch of him
memorized like some Grade-A creep. His hair was still in the knot it was in
last night, but it was flopped over and hanging by his ear. There were loose
pieces falling down his neck and one stuck to his eyelash. Sleep and lack of
coffee muted the green in his eyes. I watched as he yawned and scratched his
chest, his T-shirt lifting to expose skin right above his waistband. His
knuckles mindlessly brushed the exposed skin.
I wanna be
his throat. The barbell in his eyebrow raised when he gave me a look.
checking me out, man?”
flipping him off. “You wish.”
and turned around, shaking his ass before he started down the hall. “Let’s
move, sugar lips! I did not start my day off making breakfast for a lazy hunk
of man meat.”
flirting with me?” I shouted.
“I sure as
and rolled out of bed, dragging on the first pair of sweats I could find. I
trudged down the hallway and slid onto a stool, dropping my head to the
counter. “Since when do you cook?”
“No, you do
not. You live off Red Vines, Slim Jims, and leftover takeout.”
I cooked. So eat your damn food.”
I mocked, sitting up straight. I wasn’t at all surprised to find a turkey
sandwich sitting in front of me. Ace didn’t subject himself to food norms. He
ate whatever the hell he wanted when he wanted. If he wanted pesto chicken at
eight in the morning, that’s what he’d eat.
“He made me
a sandwich,” I joked, sinking my teeth into the bread.
he spat. “I was too lazy to make spaghetti.”
got any pickles?” Crumbs went flying from the small sliver of space between my
down on the stool beside mine. “I’m not your pickle handler.”
I snorted. “You could not handle my pickle.”
definitely wanted him to try.
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