Dirty Little Secrets (Hillcrest Prep #1.5) - Trilina Pucci Page 0,24

it open, looking over my shoulder to make sure nobody is around, before sneaking inside. It smells wet. Like an indoor pool minus the chlorine, as I walk inside. Kayaks and benches line the walls, along with a backpack lying next to all-black trainers.

“Hello,” I call out nervously.

Jackson walks out through a door across from me, hair wet and shirt off, with a towel slung around his neck. He’s in those biker short things that the crew team wears, and it’s making my mouth water. I clear my throat, trying to hide my smile.

“You beckoned.”

He grins, walking straight for me and tangling his hands in my curls.

“Not it. But kiss me anyway, Pretty. I missed those lips.”

My hands land on his chest, stopping him. “Whoa. You don’t get to kiss me. You lied.”

He leans in again, but I push harder, barely holding him back.

“No,” he answers, letting his hand drop from my hair, “I told the truth. My name’s Jackson.”

“Technically that’s true, but it’s still kind of a lie.”

Jackson weaves our hands together and smiles. “I spent my whole day in the office, trying to rearrange my schedule so I’d see you more often. Quit being mean. Didn’t you miss me? Come on, that night was something else…it was special. You’re special.”

“It was, but—”

“But what?” I hear from a deep voice behind me.

I look over my shoulder to see Holt. He closes the distance, staring down at me, a sexy grin on his face. But, you. There’s no need to say it—he already knows.

“I wrote the note. I wanted you here. With us,” Holt offers, holding my eyes.

“Why?”

“Because it’s where you belong,” Jackson answers.

My eyes jump between them as Holt takes my other hand in his. Jackson brings the hand he’s holding to his lips while Holt holds my other up to his heart. And I hold my breath. Are they serious? They’re both going to try to win me over.

“How can you ask me to choose between you?”

Jackson leans in and locks eyes with me. “Who said you had to choose, baby?”

One year later—College

Jackson’s leg slips between mine, letting me grind my center up and down his thigh. My breath is jagged as I run my tongue up his jawline. He feels so good.

“You keep doing that and I’m gonna pin you down before you get your surprise,” he hums into my ear.

I bite at his neck, whining, “Hurry up. I want to be fucked into a coma.”

Reaching down between us, I palm his hard cock, teasing him.

“Fuck, girl,” he rushes out, harshly, making me laugh. I bite his chin, and his hand grips my ass as the other tangles in my hair, pulling my head back to kiss me hard.

Jackson drags his lips away, turning toward the door. “Holt,” he bellows, “get in here with the damn gift, or she won’t be available to get it for the next twenty to thirty minutes.”

I giggle, looking up at Jackson. He winks, bringing his face down to mine again, and kisses me sweetly, ending with one on my forehead. Holt clears his throat, drawing my attention as he walks inside our bedroom, wearing boxer briefs, and shirtless like an Adonis. His hand is behind his back, but he’s wearing a smirk.

“Baby. We got you something.”

Jackson smacks my ass, before sitting up and bringing me with him, as I look between them.

“Well? What is it?”

Holt whistles playfully. “Manners, Ava. Say please.”

I love it when they’re like this. I tuck my legs under me, sitting on my knees, and purr, “Please.”

Holt licks his lips and produces a tiny black box, extending it to me. I blink, looking up at him and then to a grinning Jackson.

“What is that?” I whisper, pointing at the box.

“Open it and find out, Aves,” Jackson teases.

I pat my legs, looking at Holt’s shining green eyes as he gently places it on the bed right at my knees. The boys adjust on the bed, each flanking me as I pluck the box off the bed. They’re smiling so wide that it makes me do the same, even though I feel like I may pass out.

My chin lowers, trying to get a faster look, as I tip the top of the box open and hold my breath. Two interwoven thin diamond bands sparkle up at me. It’s gorgeous and exactly my taste.

“One band is for me,” Jackson offers softly.

I look at him, not reacting.

“The other is mine,” Holt adds, but I stay locked to Jackson.

Jackson runs a finger over

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