The Wrong Play: A Football Romance (The Wrong Player Series Book 2)
The Wrong Play: Chapter 10

Stats class was another version of hell. Math had always been my weakest subject, and taking a year off between high school and college…and then missing time at the beginning of the semester from being sick…hadn’t exactly improved my skills. I sat near the back, doodling in the margins of my notebook while Professor Lang droned on about probability distributions.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and since I didn’t talk to anyone, and it was unlikely that one of my coworkers had decided to start up a conversation…it was probably another text from Jace.

I ignored it, just as I’d ignored him all week as he popped up everywhere I was. Both my jobs, outside of my classes, and in the dining hall, even though I knew the athletes had a special dining hall just for them.

His tongue, his hands…him. It felt like he was burned into me.

But I couldn’t cave. Even though I wanted to.

Callum had sent me an email to my personal email address yesterday. Telling me how much he missed me, and how everything was going to be different when we were reunited. When. Not if.

The shock of seeing his email had reminded me why beautiful boys—and men—were the most dangerous.

And why I should be avoiding Jace at all costs.

“Riley?” A quiet voice cut through my haze, and I glanced up to see a guy hovering by my desk. Danny, that was his name. He had an easy smile and tousled brown hair. He looked kind of like a guy who’d stepped out of a J.Crew catalog, with sharp cheekbones, blue eyes, and a navy sweater that hugged his lean frame just right. He was nice looking, sure, but safe. Predictable. The opposite of Jace’s walking chaos.

And why was I comparing him to Jace right now?

“Do you have a second after class?”

I blinked, my pencil stalling mid-scrawl. “Sure,” I said, wary but curious. Hopefully he wasn’t trying to ask for help in this class, I was more likely to help him fail then improve on any of his skills.

Class dragged on, but when the bell finally rang, I shoved my stuff into my bag and followed Danny into the hall. He stopped near the vending machines set up against the wall, shifting his weight like he was debating bolting. “So, um,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner or something. Friday night…if you’re not already busy, of course,” he added quickly.

I stared at him, caught off guard. My brain short-circuited for a second, Jace’s face flashing through it…but I shoved it down, glancing at Danny closer than I ever had before. He was handsome enough, pleasing to the eye when you looked, but not enough to actually make you look in the first place. He had kind eyes, if that was a thing. He was…safe. A guy who wouldn’t follow me into elevators, leave me a trembling mess, and then stalk me across campus.

A guy who wouldn’t break my heart.

If I went out with him, maybe Jace would know I was serious about not getting involved…since his number on my cheek at the game had definitely sent off mixed signals.

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “That sounds nice. Friday works.”

His face lit up, a wide grin breaking through his nerves, making him nicer looking in a wholesome, golden-retriever kind of way. “Awesome, I’ll pick you up at seven, and we can go to that Italian restaurant on Elm—Giovanni’s? Well—if you even like Italian?” he asked awkwardly.

“Italian’s great,” I murmured, trying to ignore the weird twist in my gut. Danny was a palate cleanser, a reset. This would be good for me. “See you then?”

“Great,” he said, backing away, flashing that smile again—bright and uncomplicated. “Oh, what dorm are you?” he asked.

Right, because it wasn’t normal for someone to just know everything about you without you telling them…another way he was safer than Jace.

“Carrick Hall,” I said, immediately wishing that I’d just told him I’d meet him at the restaurant.

He nodded. “See you, Riley.” He left, and I stood there, staring at the humming vending machine, wondering why “safe” felt so wrong.

Friday night crept up, and I stood in front of my mirror, fussing with the hem of my soft gray sweater. I’d paired it with dark wide-leg jeans and ankle boots. Simple, comfy, not trying too hard. Danny didn’t strike me as the type to care about plunging necklines or stilettos, and I wasn’t in the mood to play vixen anyway. My hair fell in loose waves, brushing my shoulders, and I swiped on some gloss, the faint berry scent clinging to my lips. I grabbed my purse, checked the clock—six-fifty—and hesitated, my phone sitting dark on the dresser.

I shouldn’t have looked. I should’ve just walked out. But my hand moved anyway, unlocking the screen, and there it was: a text from Jace, timestamped ten minutes ago. No words, just a selfie—him shirtless in a bathroom, leaning against the wall, one hand raking through his long blond hair, the other snapping the pic. His abs were on full display, all ridges and shadows, sweat gleaming from a workout, that v-line dipping into his low-slung sweats like a freaking invitation. His smirk was pure sin, his eyes glinting with that cocky, I-know-you-want-me stare, and lust hit me like a freight train, hot and sudden, pooling low in my belly.

“Fuck,” I muttered, gripping the dresser, my thighs clenching as I stared at the screen. My pulse raced, heat flushing my face, and I could almost feel him—his breath on my neck, his hands pinning me, that elevator moment replaying in vivid, torturous detail. I should just delete the picture, but my fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, traitorously tempted to zoom in on those abs.

I forced myself to shut the phone off, shoving it into my purse.

But the image stayed burned into me, an itch I couldn’t scratch as I forced myself out the door.

Danny was waiting outside, leaning against a black Honda, his hands in his pockets. He looked good in his crisp white polo, his dark jeans that fit just right. His hair was swept back from his face and when he saw me, he smiled, all warmth and no edge. “Hey, Riley,” he said, opening the passenger door. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” I said, sliding inside. “You too,” I added. My voice was steady, but my skin was buzzing, Jace’s selfie still simmering in my veins. I did my best to shove it down, focusing on Danny as he climbed in, the car smelling faintly of an ocean scented air freshener.

The drive to Giovanni’s was quick. Danny was chatting about one of his classes, a project he was stressed over, and I nodded along, half-listening, the city lights smearing gold and red across the windshield.

The restaurant glowed ahead, all warm brick and ivy curling up the walls. We parked and walked inside, the scent of garlic and basil immediately surrounding me. It was cozy, with its dim lights, red-checkered tablecloths, and candles flickering in little glass holders. A hostess led us to a booth, and I sank into the cushioned bench, the murmur of voices and clink of dishes wrapping around us.

The hostess handed us our menus and stepped away. “Ever been here?” he asked, scanning his own.

“Nope,” I said, flipping it open, the list of pastas and wines blurring as Jace’s abs flashed through my head again. I blinked. Hard. Trying to focus. Danny said something about carbonara, and I nodded.

Crap. Why had I looked at that picture?

“I’m leaning toward the lasagna,” he said, setting his menu down. “Mama makes it all the time—hers is killer.”

“Yum,” I said lamely.

Danny started talking about his “mama,” and while charming when mentioned once…it was obvious that he was a huge mama’s boy. I couldn’t relate to him about that, obviously, so all I could do was hum along like I was interested.

The waiter swung by, and I ordered the carbonara, while Danny ordered the lasagna, plus a glass of water for each of us. The restaurant hummed with life, couples chatting over plates of ravioli, a kid giggling two tables over, spilling spaghetti on his shirt. I sipped my water, letting it settle me, trying to drown the heat Jace had sparked.

The food arrived in fat, steaming plates of pasta. My carbonara glistened, rich with pancetta and cream, and Danny’s lasagna was a gooey stack of cheese and meat. “This is unreal,” he said, digging in, his fork scraping the plate. “Mama might be dethroned.”

I twirled a bite, the sauce coating my tongue, and nodded. “Yeah, this is delicious.” He smiled, and I relaxed a bit more, the food warming my chest, the night almost…normal. Almost good.

We talked—small stuff, stats class, his dog back home—a golden retriever named Spot, because, of course, he would have named his dog that—and I let myself sink into it. The candlelight softened his features, making him look even better. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, and his laugh was light, unforced. “So,” he said, sipping his water. “Are you into football? I saw you at Saturday’s game.”

I froze mid-bite, Jace’s smirking face slamming back into me. “Uh, yeah,” I said, swallowing hard. “It’s…fun, I guess.” My voice sounded off, and I cursed myself, shoving another bite in to cover it.

“Fun’s right,” he said, grinning. “Davis and Thatcher? Those guys are beasts. You see that last play?”

My stomach twisted, Jace’s name dropping like a bomb. “Yeah,” I muttered, forcing a smile. “They’re…something.” Beast didn’t cover it—Jace was wild, unhinged; mine in ways I couldn’t admit. I took a bigger sip of water, suddenly wishing it was wine, and I tried to focus on Danny’s next story—something about his sister’s cooking fails—but my skin prickled restlessly, Jace haunting me like a freaking ghost.

The door swung open, the chime slicing through the restaurant’s hum. I happened to glance over, only to drop my fork with a loud clank.

“Riley?” Danny asked, but I couldn’t look at him.

I was too busy staring at Jace, standing there at the hostess stand, his hair mussed from the wind, his brown eyes locked on me, glinting with mischief…and something feral.

How was he here right now?

Danny was trying to talk to me, but I was stumbling over my words, watching as the hostess led Jace into the spot right behind Danny. He slid into the booth, sitting so he was facing me, his back to the wall. His smirk was a weapon, sharp and knowing, and his eyes bore into mine over Danny’s shoulder. My heart kicked into overdrive, my palms sweating as I picked my fork back up and gripped it tight.

Danny was back to talking about his mom again. “So, she forgot the oven was on, and the whole kitchen⁠—”

“Sounds like a real tragedy,” Jace cut in, his voice loud and dripping with sarcasm, his gaze never leaving me. “I’m riveted, man. Keep going.”

Danny faltered, turning slightly, confusion creasing his brow. “Uh⁠—”

“Just ignore him,” I snapped, confusing Danny even more.

Jace grinned, predatory and knowing. His arms stretched along the back of his booth, all lazy confidence.

Danny shifted, eyeing Jace over his shoulder. “Oh, you’re Jace Thatcher!” he said excitedly…because, of course, he recognized him instantly. “We were just talking about you!”

Jace’s gaze glimmered with something that should have sent Danny running—but Danny obviously wasn’t good at reading signs.

I’d blame his mama for that.

“Do you know each other?” Danny asked, his eyes shifting between the two of us.

Jace snagged a breadstick from a passing waiter’s tray. “I do know Riley. Intimately, in fact. Right, buttercup?”

My face burned, and Danny’s face finally started to show a touch of unease.

“So, uh,” Danny tried, turning back to me. “Anyway, my mama⁠—”

“We get it. She’s a fantastic cook and the greatest lady you’ve ever met,” Jace interrupted again, biting into the breadstick, chewing loudly…and obnoxiously. “But let’s be real here, Casanova, your date couldn’t care less about the fact that you dream about your mama when you’re yanking your dick.”

“Jace, stop,” I said, my voice low and as venomous as I could make it. But he just winked, leaning forward.

“Stop what?” he asked, his voice teasing, eyes glinting. “Pointing out the obvious? That he’s completely fucking up this date? That you’re completely bored. Oh…should I tell him about what you’re really thinking about right now?”

“Don’t you dare,” I hissed.

Danny’s shoulders had stiffened, and he set his fork down, glancing at me. “I feel like I’m missing something. Um…”

“No, you’re not missing anything,” I said quickly, shoving my plate aside since my appetite was nowhere to be found. “He’s just an asshole who doesn’t know boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” Jace laughed, low and rough, leaning forward. I was pretty sure Danny could feel Jace’s anger on the back of his neck. “Babycakes, I crossed those in the elevator last week—remember? You didn’t mind then.”

Danny’s face went pink, then pale, his hands fumbling with his napkin. “I—I don’t⁠—”

“Feeling overwhelmed yet? Like you’ve made a terrible…possibly a dangerous mistake?” Jace asked, smirking over Danny’s shoulder, his eyes still locked on mine. “Feeling like she belongs to someone else?”

“Jace, I swear—” I started, but he cut me off, his voice dropping, all silk and menace.

“Swear what, Riley-girl? That you’re not mine? Go on, tell him. Tell him you didn’t cream over my abs right before you walked out to meet him.”

My jaw dropped, heat flooding my cheeks.

Danny’s eyes widened, and he practically leapt out of the booth. “I think—uh—I should go⁠—”

“No, stay,” I said desperately, reaching out for his arm like a woman possessed. Jace laughed, standing now, towering over the booth.

“Let him run, Riley,” he said, stepping around to loom in front of Danny, his grin dark. “He knows what’s good for him. He knows when he’s out of his league.” He leaned down until he was right in front of Danny’s terrified looking face. “And he knows that he should never have gotten close to what’s mine.”

Danny literally squeaked. He grabbed his jacket and bolted for the door, the chime filling the restaurant as he fled.

Jace slid into Danny’s empty seat across from me, leaning back like he’d won.

“You’re a bastard,” I snapped, grabbing my water glass and throwing the rest of it back. My pulse was racing, heat pooling low despite my fury. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You’re what’s wrong with me,” he said, grinning, unrepentant as he reached across to snag a bite of my discarded carbonara. “And you love it.”

“You scared him off like a psycho. Why can’t you just take the hint? I’m not going out with you!” My voice was shaking, and his presence was overwhelming me, like the table between us didn’t even exist. His knee brushed mine.

“A psycho?” He smirked, leaning in, his hand sliding to my thigh, firm and possessive. “You haven’t even seen psycho yet.” His smile dropped. “Danny was lucky. If something like that ever happens again…” His voice trailed off for a moment, and it was like a mask had slipped from his face. His fingers squeezed, and I sucked in a breath, caught between shoving him off and pulling him closer.

“Jace…” I started, but he stood, tugging me up, his grip unrelenting.

“Let’s go,” he said roughly, his eyes burning as he threw cash on the table. “We’re done here.”

I should’ve fought, I should’ve yanked free, but my body betrayed me, following him out into the night, the cool air hitting my flushed skin as he hauled me to his Jeep parked across the street. The restaurant’s warm glow faded behind us, but all I could feel was him, his heat, his pull, his stupid, obsessive need that I couldn’t escape.

Jace sat me in the backseat of his Jeep, the door slamming shut with a bang that echoed in the empty lot. I barely caught my breath when the opposite door was yanked open and Jace was in the backseat with me, all muscle and hunger.

The air was thick, heavy with the scent of his woodsy cologne, sweat from practice, and the faint tang of turf clinging to his skin. His hands were everywhere, gripping my hips, yanking my sweater up, and tossing it aside. His fingers, rough and calloused from football, scraped across my stomach, igniting every nerve, and I gasped as I gripped his shirt, the hard planes of him unyielding under my palms.

“Jace, wait. We should talk about this!” I tried to reason with him. He just smirked, catching my wrists and pinning them above my head with one hand, the leather creaking under me as I squirmed. His other hand shoved my bra up, baring my breasts, my nipples tightening in the cool air. He groaned, low and guttural, his mouth dropping to one nipple as he sucked hard. The wet heat of his tongue flicked over me, his teeth grazing just enough to sting, and my back arched into him despite my protests.

I could complain all I wanted, but one thing was absolutely true. My body fucking loved this.

“Yeah, let’s talk about this,” he growled against my skin, his voice rough as he bit down lightly, then sucked again, harder, pulling a moan from my throat. “Let’s talk about how you went on this date just to try and push me away. Again. Let’s talk about what an asswipe that guy was. How you couldn’t stop thinking about me the entire time. Let’s talk about how there’s not a replacement for me. For us.” His voice bounced off the Jeep’s fogging windows. “Let’s talk about it, Riley-girl. Whatcha have for me?”

I writhed against him, my shoes scraping the seat, the leather starting to get slick with our combined heat. “You’re right. About all of it,” I panted, but my hands, freed now, fisted his shirt, yanking it up and over his head. My nails raked down his back, digging into the taut muscle, tracing the lines of his spine. He hissed, his head lifting up. I followed the bend of his throat. His sweat-slicked skin…his perfect abs that had ruined today in the first place. It felt like I was burning alive. “But you’re still insane.”

“I’m insane for you,” he muttered, as his mouth moved to my other breast, licking and biting, leaving a trail of red marks across my chest like a map of his claim. His tongue swirled, teasing, then plunged lower, licking a slow, deliberate line down my sternum, tasting the salt of my skin. I moaned again, my head tipping back, thudding against the window, the glass cool against my scalp as his hands slid to my jeans, popping the button with a flick of his thumb.

“Jace,” I whimpered, my hips jerking as he shoved them down my thighs, taking my panties with them in one rough, impatient pull. I kicked them down my legs, the denim tangling around my boots for a second before I shook them both off. I was almost naked, sprawled out in the cramped back seat. The air inside the cab was muggy, and his body was a furnace, pinning me, his knees spreading my legs wide, exposing me completely.

He pulled back, his eyes raking over me, and I could only imagine what I looked like right now, flushed, sprawled out for him. His smirk turned feral…as if he could read my mind.

“Fuck, look at you,” he said hoarsely, his voice thick with need as he undid his jeans, shoving them down just enough for his cock to spring free—thick, hard, glistening at the tip. My breath caught, my thighs clenching as I stared, the sight releasing every dirty thought I’d had since that picture he’d sent me.

“You look a little hungry, Riley-girl,” he taunted, gripping my hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh as he pulled me under him with a possessive yank.

“Asshole,” I muttered, but my voice was a wreck. I wrapped my legs around him as I urged him closer. His lips curled as he dragged his cock along my inner thigh, teasing, the slick heat of him brushing my skin, leaving a trail of precum that made me squirm.

“Please,” I begged, my hands sliding to his shoulders as I tried to pull him down. He laughed, low and dark, positioning himself, the head of him nudging against me, hot and insistent.

He locked eyes with me as he thrust in…slow at first, stretching me inch by agonizing inch, filling me until I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I cried out, sharp and desperate, the sound echoing off the foggy glass, and he groaned, burying his face in my neck.

His breath scorched against my skin, the heat of him searing me from the inside out. Every slow, deliberate thrust sent another wave of pleasure crashing through me, my body arching instinctively, needing more—needing him.

Jace groaned, his hands gripping my hips, holding me exactly where he wanted. “Tell me,” he rasped, his voice thick with something darker, something possessive. “Tell me you didn’t want to be there with him.”

I gasped as he thrust deeper, my nails digging into his shoulders, but I didn’t answer.

I didn’t want to.

Because I had spent the entire night trying to convince myself that I did. That I wanted Danny, that I wanted normal, that I wanted any of this to make sense.

But Jace saw through it. Through me.

He pulled back, just enough to make me feel the loss; his eyes locked onto mine in the dim glow of the streetlights coming in through the windows. “Say it, babycakes,” he murmured, his tone like silk wrapped around steel. “Say you didn’t want him. Say you wanted me instead.”

I swallowed hard, shaking my head. “Jace⁠—”

“Say it.” His fingers tightened, his hips pressing forward just enough to tease, enough to drive me insane. “Or I stop.”

A whimper slipped out before I could catch it. The threat was real—Jace Thatcher never bluffed. And my body? My body wasn’t built to be deprived of him.

I clenched my jaw, hating how much control he had over me. Hating that I had spent all this time running, denying what had been so painfully obvious.

I inhaled shakily, my resolve splintering beneath the intensity in his gaze. “I didn’t want to be there with him.” My voice was a whisper, barely audible over our strained breaths, but it was enough.

Jace’s smirk was slow, triumphant. “That’s my girl.”

And then he was moving again, pushing deep, stealing my next breath as his lips crashed into mine.

But he wasn’t finished.

His mouth trailed to my ear, his voice low and devastating. “Did you think about me while you were with him?”

I stiffened. Heat bloomed up my neck, pooling between my thighs, because—fuck. Of course, I had. I had spent every second of that stupid date comparing Danny to Jace, every word, every smile, every insignificant moment failing to match the way Jace made me feel with just a look.

Silence stretched between us, but Jace wasn’t letting me get away with it. His hand slid down my thigh, slow, teasing, until he was gripping my knee, pushing it higher, opening me wider.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured, his voice a taunt, thick with satisfaction.

I clenched around him involuntarily, my body betraying me, and he groaned, his forehead dropping to mine. “Fuck, Riley,” he whispered, voice unraveling. “You’re just as addicted to this as I am.”

He wasn’t wrong.

I just wasn’t sure I’d survive admitting it.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growled, his voice breaking as he moved, pulling back slow, then slamming in hard, deep, each stroke a claim that rattled the Jeep, the suspension creaking under us. His hands gripped my hips tighter, fingers bruising, angling me to take him deeper, and I moaned, loud and unfiltered, my body rocking with his rhythm. “You’re mine—say it, Riley.”

I shook my head, defiant even as my body surrendered, my hips bucking to meet him. “Make me,” I gasped, my voice a challenge, and his grin turned savage, his thrusts picking up, relentless, the leather slick with our sweat, the air thick with the scent of sex—musk, salt, and that faint pine scent.

“You should know it’s a bad idea to challenge me,” he snarled, one hand sliding between us, his fingers easily replaceing my clit, rubbing fast and rough, circling with a precision that made my vision blur. “I always win.”

I shattered, my orgasm ripping through me, sharp and blinding as a scream tore from my throat. It bounced off the windows as my body clenched around him, pulsing, trembling.

He didn’t stop. He kept thrusting, dragging it out, his fingers relentless, pushing me through the waves until I was a shaking, oversensitive, mess…gasping his name like a prayer.

“Jace—please—” I whimpered, my hands fisting his hair, pulling hard, strands tangling in my fingers as I tried to ground myself. But he just growled, his mouth crashing into mine as he kissed me deep and messy, all teeth and tongue. He tasted like salt and sin, his lips bruising mine, swallowing my moans as he fucked me harder, the Jeep rocking with every slam of his hips.

“I’m not done,” he muttered against my mouth, pulling out suddenly, leaving me empty and aching. I whined, a needy sound I’d never admit to, but before I could protest, he flipped me over, his hands gripping my hips as he yanked me onto my knees. My palms slapped the leather as he positioned me, ass up, face down, and I felt the heat of him behind me, his cock brushing my thighs as he teased me once again.

“Yes…” I cried, as he thrust in, hard and deep, filling me from behind, and I screamed, the angle hitting something inside me that made my whole body quake. His hands slid up my back, rough and possessive, one tangling in my hair, pulling my head back as he pounded into me, relentless, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the tight space.

“You’re mine,” he growled in a hoarse voice, his free hand snaking around to my front so he could cup my breast. Jace pinched my nipple hard enough to make me cry out again. “Say it, Riley. Fucking say it.”

“No,” I gasped defiantly, pushing back against him, meeting every thrust, even though my body was trembling and slick with sweat, one knee on the seat, one foot on the ground as he pushed into me. He laughed, dark and wild, his hand sliding down, his fingers replaceing my clit again. He rubbed slowly this time, teasing, dragging me to the edge without letting me fall.

“Stubborn little angel cake,” he muttered, his mouth on my shoulder, biting down, sucking a mark that would bruise by morning. “I’ll make you scream it. I’ll fuck you until you can’t remember his name.” His thrusts slowed, deliberate now, each one rocking me forward, my hands slipping on the leather, grasping for anything to hold.

“Danny who?” I shot back, breathless, taunting him, and his growl turned feral, his hand tightening in my hair, pulling harder, arching my back as he slammed into me, fast and brutal, the Jeep shaking with the force.

“That’s it,” he snarled, fingers circling my clit faster, rougher, sending sparks through me. “Say my name. Say you’re mine, Riley, or I’ll keep you edging until you beg.”

“Jace—” I moaned, my body betraying me, trembling on the brink, and he thrust deeper, hitting that spot again relentlessly, his breath frayed against my ear.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice breaking, hips jerking, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own edge, his fingers relentless on my clit, pushing me higher, higher. “You’re mine. Fucking say it.”

“Yes. Fuck, yes,” I sobbed, shattering again as my orgasm crashed through me, sharper, hotter, a tidal wave that left me screaming his name, my body clenching around him, pulsing, shaking. He groaned, low and guttural, thrusting once, twice, then spilling inside me, hot and deep, his weight pinning me as he came, his hands gripping my hips like he’d never let go.

We collapsed, panting, tangled in a sweaty heap, his chest pressed to my back, his breath hot on my neck, the Jeep a sauna of fogged windows and wrecked leather. He stayed inside me, softening but still there, his hands sliding up my sides, tracing every curve like he was memorizing me. My knees ached, my body thrummed, and I couldn’t move. Aftershocks were rippling through me as his lips caressed my shoulder, soft now, almost tender.

“I’m pretty sure I know what heaven feels like,” he murmured roughly, rolling off me but pulling me with him, flipping me onto my back again. His hands framed my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks, and he smirked, that smug, infuriating grin back in full force.

I glared, chest heaving, my skin slick and flushed, my body still humming from—three orgasms, maybe four, I’d lost count. “It doesn’t mean anything,” I said, but it was as weak as it had ever been. He laughed, low and rough, leaning down to kiss me slowly, his tongue sliding against mine, tasting me, claiming me all over again.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling back, his lips brushing mine, his voice a dark promise. “I’m pretty sure you’re done with that lie.”

Jace shifted and tugged me up, his hands roaming my body—my breasts, my hips, my thighs—like he couldn’t stop touching me, and I let him, too wrecked to fight. My sweater was gone, my bra shoved up, my jeans a crumpled heap on the floor, and I didn’t care. The heat of him, the weight of his stare, it pinned me there, raw and exposed. His fingers traced the marks he’d left, the bites on my neck, the bruises on my hips, and his smirk softened, just a flicker, into something almost…reverent.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered in a thick voice as he leaned down to kiss my throat, slow and deliberate, sucking another mark over my pulse. I felt the strange urge to cry because not once had anyone ever said that to me before.

I moaned as I tugged lightly on his hair. Jace pressed himself against me again, half-hard already, the slick heat of him brushing my thigh.

“Jace, I can’t…” I panted, but it was a lie, and he knew it, his hand slipping between my legs and the mess that was dripping down my thighs.

His fingers teased my swollen clit, light and maddening. I tensed, oversensitive, a whimper slipping out, and he grinned as he kissed me again, hungrily swallowing the sound.

“It will never be enough,” he said against my lips, his fingers circling slowly, building that heat again as his cock hardened fully now and pressed into me.

I didn’t answer him, because if I believed that…and it turned out to be a lie…

“You’re it for me, Riley St. James,” he murmured.

I growled at his ridiculous, thrilling words, my hands gripped his shoulders, my nails digging in, and he laughed, dark and wild, thrusting in again—slow, deep, filling me until I gasped, my legs wrapping around him tighter, pulling him closer.

“Good girl,” he growled, moving now, steady and deliberate, each stroke stoking the fire as his fingers continued to work my clit. “Scream for me one more time, let everyone hear you.”

And I did. I screamed his name as another orgasm hit, slow and shattering, my body convulsing around him, and he groaned, following me over, spilling again, his hands clutching my hips, holding me there as we broke apart together. We stayed like that, panting, trembling, his forehead pressed to mine, sweat dripping between us, the Jeep a cocoon of heat and wrecked passion.

He pulled back finally, a soft smile on his lips as he swept a damp strand of hair off my face with a gentleness that didn’t match the carnage we’d made. His brown eyes—dark, stormy, endless—held me there, drowning me in something I wasn’t sure I could name.

“You ruin me, you know that?” His voice was raw, edged with something dangerously close to awe. “Every time. It doesn’t matter what I do, how much I prepare myself—I get near you, and it’s game over.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering in my throat.

Because I felt the same way.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brown eyes burning, stripping me bare. “I don’t think you understand, Riley.” His thumb swept over my bottom lip, a slow and deliberate caress. “How serious I am.”

A shudder rippled through me and my stomach twisted. “Jace⁠—”

His fingers tightened around mine. “You don’t have to say anything. Not yet.” His lips quirked, a shadow of a smirk playing there, but there was something softer beneath it. Something real. “Just know, Riley—you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

My heart lurched, my breath stalling in my chest.

“And I would never lose my best thing.” His voice dropped lower, his forehead pressing to mine again, our noses brushing. “Not ever.”

Something inside me cracked wide open.

My lips parted, but nothing came out.

His gaze flicked over my face, taking me in, committing me to memory like I might disappear if he blinked. Then he leaned in, pressing a kiss to my temple, lingering there, like he wasn’t just kissing me—he was claiming me. A shiver rolled through me, my heart slamming against my ribs, the weight of his words sinking in, curling into the deepest parts of me.

And I knew, with a certainty that terrified me—Jace Thatcher was never letting me go.