The Wrong Play: A Football Romance (The Wrong Player Series Book 2)
The Wrong Play: Chapter 12

The glow of the bonfire danced against the night sky, painting long shadows across the field as the air buzzed with life. Laughter floated over the crackle of burning logs, mixing with twangy music from a truck’s speakers and the sharp scent of smoke and beer. People were everywhere—crowded around the flames, stretched out on the grass, leaning against tailgates with red cups in hand, their voices loud and bright.

Too many people.

I lingered at the crowd’s edge, my fingers twisting the sleeves of my hoodie, the soft fabric bunching under my grip. It was so loud, voices overlapping, cups glinting in the firelight, bodies weaving in a blur that made my chest tighten. The energy hummed, wild and overwhelming, and I wasn’t sure I could step into it. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should just turn back, slip away to my dorm before anyone noticed I’d even⁠—

My feet left the ground, the world tilting fast. I gasped, a quick little breath, as strong arms scooped me up, lifting me like I was light as air. A startled squeak slipped out, high and silly, before I felt a warm, solid chest press against mine, spinning me through the air until my head spun and my heart raced. Jace. It had to be Jace.

He grinned down at me, his golden hair catching the fire’s light, his lips flashing like he’d just found a prize. “There’s my girl,” he said, his voice warm and steady, wrapping around me like a blanket I hadn’t asked for but couldn’t push away.

My sneakers skimmed the ground again, soft dirt under my feet, but he didn’t let go, his hands stayed on my waist, firm and warm through my hoodie, sending a flutter through me I couldn’t shake. I blinked, breathless, my hands hovering like I didn’t know where to put them. “You can put me down,” I stammered, my voice small, tripping over itself.

“Just celebrating the fact that the night’s actually perfect now that you’re here,” he said, his grin widening, all smug and pleased. His eyes sparkled, mischief glowing in the brown, the fire’s reflection flickering like something wild and alive.

I stared, my thoughts scattering, my heart doing a nervous little dance in my chest. He leaned closer, too close, his breath brushing my cheek, his nose almost touching mine. “I followed you from your dorm,” he said, casual as anything, like it was no big deal. “I had to make sure you showed up.”

My breath caught, eyes widening as I tried to process it. “You followed me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as my stomach flipped around—part shock, part something soft and warm I didn’t want to name.

Jace’s smirk deepened, as he dipped lower, his voice a low, teasing murmur. “Yeah, babycakes,” he said. “Couldn’t let my favorite girl slip away before I caught her.”

A rush of heat climbed my cheeks, and I ducked my head, tugging my sleeves over my hands. He always did that…said things like they were sweet, not completely unhinged, and for some reason I was never as weirded out—or scared—as I probably should be.

Jace slid me down the length of his body, slow and deliberate, like he wanted me to feel every hard inch of him, his chest, his stomach, and then…ok…the firm, undeniable press of his erect length against my hip as I moved past it. My breath hitched, a quick, shaky pull and he groaned softly.

“I would tell you to ignore him, but I don’t really want you to,” he said with a wink.

I scoffed, unable to help the grin that slipped past my lips.

I didn’t really want to ignore him either.

His hands stayed on my waist, thumbs brushing my ribs through my hoodie, soft and teasing, while he looked at me—really looked—like he was soaking me up, memorizing every nervous blink. I fidgeted, my fingers twisting my sleeves, unsure where to hide from the sudden warmth tingling through me.

Then he smiled, soft, devastating, and entirely too sincere. He winked, quick and playful, and my heart stumbled, caught in my throat. “Riley-girl,” he said, his voice dropping low, husky, the glow of the flames painting gold across his sharp jaw and his messy hair. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Callum had never called me beautiful after that first night. He’d replaced any compliments with critiques and criticism, and I’d believed every harsh word that had come out of his lips.

Jace said these things like they were a revelation, and I had no idea what to respond. Heat rushed up my neck, my breath stalling, a lump I couldn’t swallow. “Jace—” I started, voice wobbly, but my brain blanked, words slipping away like sand.

“Welcome to our first official date,” he said, grinning like he hadn’t just flipped my world upside down, like this wasn’t a total ambush that left me dizzy. His arm went around my shoulders, tugging me into his side, warm, solid, smelling like pine and smoke as he steered me toward the bonfire. “Come on. I gotta introduce you to my bestilicious bros.”

I blinked up at him, my head spinning. “Your what?” I asked, my voice small, tripping over his words as I stumbled to keep up with his long strides.

“You know,” he mused, guiding me through the crowd like it was nothing, his hand steady on me while bodies parted around us, laughing, shouting, cups sloshing. “My boys. My ride or dies. My No Drama Llama brothers from other mothers…” He smirked, obviously thinking he was funny, even though I had no idea what he was talking about. “They’ve all been dying to meet you.”

Panic squeezed my ribs, sharp and sudden, my sneakers faltering on the uneven grass. “Jace, I don’t—” I swallowed, my voice quivering. “I think it’s too soon. Don’t you?”

He stopped dead, turning to face me, one eyebrow arching high, all fake innocence and teasing light in his eyes. “Too soon?” he echoed, like I’d said something hilarious. “Huh. That’s weird.” He tilted his head, gold hair falling over his forehead. “Did I feel like a stranger in my Jeep yesterday?”

My stomach flipped, a quick, hot twist, and I glared, cheeks burning. “That’s different,” I said, my voice a little colder, though it trembled at the edges as I remembered—his hands on me, the Jeep’s leather seat cool against my back, the way he’d touched me like he belonged there.

He grinned, wide and wicked. “Is it?”

“Yes,” I huffed, crossing my arms tight, trying to ignore the memory.

“Interesting,” he said, dragging the word out before he sighed big and dramatic, like I’d wounded him. “You and Matty both need a wake-up call. I’m always right.”

I scoffed, a tiny laugh slipping out despite my nerves. “Those words are never going to come out of my mouth,” I said, shaking my head, my ponytail swaying as I peeked up at him.

Jace’s grin was never-ending as he steered me forward again, his arm a warm weight I couldn’t shake. “We’ll see, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dipping low, teasing and sure. “We’ll see.”

A thrill shot through me, curling low in my stomach.

I shouldn’t have liked this—him pushing, teasing, refusing to back down no matter how much distance I tried to put between us. But I did. More than I should. More than I wanted to admit.

I tucked my lip between my teeth, trying to suppress the smile threatening to break free, but the warmth was already spreading through me, traitorous and undeniable. He made me feel wanted. Chased. Like he had no intention of letting me slip through his fingers.

And maybe—just maybe—I didn’t want to slip through.

Not when it was him.

As we wove through the chaos of the bonfire party, the night pulsed around us, wild and loud, like it had a heartbeat of its own. People shouted Jace’s name from every direction—teammates in sweat-stained jerseys, girls in tight sorority crop tops giggling too loud, random guys waving for a fist bump, their voices slurring over the crackle of the fire. Every few steps, someone lunged into our path, trying to snag him for a laugh or a story, their red cups sloshing beer onto the grass. The air smelled like smoke, spilled liquor, and the faint sweetness of burning wood. It pressed in, heavy and warm, making my head spin a little.

Jace barely slowed, his long strides cutting through the crowd like it was nothing. His arm stayed locked around my shoulders, firm and steady, his fingers brushing my collarbone through my hoodie every time he shifted. It was like he was binding me to him, keeping me from floating away in the mess of bodies and noise. I clung to that feeling with all my might, my sneakers scuffing the uneven ground.

“This is Riley,” he said, over and over, his voice smooth and sure, introducing me to every single person we passed—some linebacker with a goofy grin, a girl with glitter on her cheeks, a guy balancing four cups like a circus act. No hesitation. No secrecy. Just Jace, tossing my name out like it belonged there, loud and proud, his smile flashing in the firelight.

“Hey, Jace, man, come take a shot with us!” some guy hollered from behind a makeshift bar where kegs and coolers were stacked in the dirt, a folding table wobbling under bottles. His voice was thick, half-drunk, cutting through the music blaring from a truck nearby.

Jace didn’t even turn his head as we kept moving, his grip on me tightening a fraction. “Can’t. I’m with my girl,” he called back, casual as anything, like it was the easiest thing in the world to say.

My girl.

The words hit me like a jolt, and I stumbled, my sneaker catching on a clump of grass. My heart did a quick, clumsy flip as it thudded hard against my ribs. I glanced up at him, wide-eyed, searching his face. He wasn’t looking at me; he just kept steering us forward, cool and composed, his golden hair up in some kind of half-up, half-down hot messy bun that I was pretty sure no other man could make so incredibly sexy, his jaw sharp and unbothered. Like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in my chest and walked away whistling.

It kind of seemed like Jace Thatcher—one of the gods of UT football, the star wide receiver, the guy everyone wanted a piece of—was introducing me, me, as his girlfriend. Proudly. Casually. Like it was obvious. Like it was no big deal. With him, I wasn’t some dirty secret he’d tuck away when the spotlight got too bright.

A pang twisted in my chest, tight and sudden, stealing my breath.

With Callum, I’d been hidden away, kept quiet, made to feel like I wasn’t worthy of being acknowledged. I’d been something to control, to keep in the dark, shoved in the shadows until he wanted me. Someone who was his, but only behind closed doors.

Like that one night…

The house was alive with the murmur of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the low hum of classical music piped through the sound system. My mother’s voice rang out in a practiced laugh as she charmed some politician’s wife, and my father stood near the bar, swirling a glass of whiskey, looking entirely disinterested in his own event.

I’d been told to dress appropriately. Which, in my mother’s language, meant something elegant but demure. Something that wouldn’t draw attention in the wrong way but would still present me as the perfect daughter in the St. James family.

I’d spent the evening like a ghost, floating from room to room, sipping a watered-down drink, pretending to be fascinated by whatever conversation was happening around me. But my stomach had been in knots since the second I saw him.

Callum. With her.

Age-appropriate her. The kind of woman Callum should be with. She was perfect. Polished. Laughing in all the right places, touching his arm with an ease that made my stomach churn.

And Callum?

He seemed to be eating it up. Smiling at her, leaning in, whispering something that made her blush.

I told myself I didn’t care. I told myself it didn’t matter. That he didn’t love her, not like he loved me. But the sharp edge of jealousy was a knife in my ribs every time I saw his hand skim the small of her back. Every time she smiled up at him like he was hers.

I was supposed to be used to this. To watching him parade around with her, a woman who fit the mold perfectly. To seeing him be the man he was expected to be while I stood in the shadows.

It didn’t matter that I was the one he really wanted. It didn’t matter that it was my bed he’d crawled into countless nights before.

None of it mattered.

Because Callum belonged to this world, and I belonged to him. And he never let me forget it. He never let me be free.

I spent the night avoiding him. I tried to pretend I was fine, that the sight of his hand ghosting over her hip didn’t make my skin crawl. I avoided his eyes, avoided being in the same room with him when I could.

But I should’ve known better. Callum never let me avoid him for long. He liked to taunt me with her. He liked to put me in my place. Because he knew there was nothing I could do about it.

The party was winding down, and she had gone home when I felt it—that prickle on the back of my neck. I turned, and he was there. His tie was loosened. His eyes were dark.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he murmured, stepping closer.

My heart pounded against my ribs. I forced a brittle smile. “You seemed occupied.”

His lips twitched. “Jealous?”

I scoffed, but the sound barely left my throat before his fingers were curling around my wrist, his grip firm.

“You know better than that, Riley.”

I hated how easily I let him pull me with him.

The hall was empty, the distant hum of the party fading as he tugged me into the closet under the stairs. The second the door shut, his hands were on me.

His fingers slid into my hair, tugging, forcing me to look at him.

His lips grazed my jaw. “You’ve been a little brat tonight.”

I swallowed hard.

Callum sighed, his patience razor-thin as he flicked his gaze over me. “You know why I have to be seen with her, Riley. No one would take me seriously if they knew the truth. I have to keep you tucked away because you’re not old enough, you’re not polished enough to stand beside me where it matters.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping, cool and cutting. “So stop pouting. You know the deal. I do what I need to do, and you stay exactly where I put you. And right now? You can make it up to me for the attitude you’ve been throwing all night.”

His thumb traced my bottom lip. My breath hitched.

I knew what he wanted.

I knew what he expected.

And I knew I was going to hate myself even more…

But I sank to my knees anyway.

I blinked hard, the bonfire snapping me back, the heat of it licking at my face as Jace’s arm tugged me closer. He was the complete opposite of Callum. There didn’t seem to be any shame, any hesitation. It was just him, holding me tight, making sure every drunk idiot here knew I was his. He seemed so proud of that. Flaunting me, like I was everything.

His thumb brushed my shoulder again, a soft, absent touch that sent a shiver down my spine, and I swallowed, my throat thick with something I couldn’t name.

I didn’t say anything. My voice was stuck somewhere between my racing heart and the lump in my chest. Because deep down, in a quiet little corner I didn’t want to peek into, I liked it. I liked the way he said, “my girl” like it was a fact, I liked how his arm felt like a shield, I liked how he didn’t care who saw us. It was new, dizzying, and a little…terrifying.

Because what if this wasn’t real?

What if he found out who I really was…the girl Callum had seen…and changed his mind? My body was a tripwire that could go off at any minute. What if it did—and he decided he didn’t want to handle it?

We continued weaving through the crowd, his arm a steady weight around my shoulders, until we reached a giant black truck parked at the edge of the field. Its tailgate was down, flipped open like a makeshift stage, and a small group lounged around it—laughing, cups in hand, their voices loud over the music thumping from a speaker propped in the bed. I slowed as I took them in, trying to school my face so I didn’t look too freaked out, but Jace didn’t pause.

“No Drama Llamas,” he called, his voice cutting through their chatter, easy and confident as he pulled me in front of him, his hands sliding to my hips like he was presenting me. “This is my angel cakes, babylicious, most fantastical girl on the planet—my girlfriend Riley.”

My breath caught, a little hitch in my chest, and I froze, heat creeping up my neck. Girlfriend. He said it like it was carved in stone, and my eyes darted up to his face, feeling some kind of weird relief at how confident he looked when he said it. The group turned, heads swiveling, and I shrank a little under their stares, my fingers twisting the hem of my hoodie.

“I was beginning to think you made her up, Jace-face,” one guy said, stepping forward with a laugh.

Jace nudged me toward him, grinning wider. “Riley, this is Parker—our quarterback, resident big brain, and bestilicious number one.”

Parker was tall, matching Jace inch for inch, with broad shoulders that filled out his shirt like some kind of model and dark hair that fell in his face. His grin was all perfect teeth—and his blue eyes glinted as he reached out a hand toward me. “Hey, Riley. Heard a ton about you,” he said in a booming voice, smooth and deep, like he was born to command a room—or a field. Before I could even move, Jace swatted Parker’s hand away mid-air, a quick smack that made Parker laugh, low and easy.

“No touching,” Jace said, voice sharp but smirking, stepping closer to me, his hand sliding to my hip, gripping tight, possessive as hell. I froze, caught off guard, my smile wobbling as Parker raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning like some kind of otherworldly, gorgeous creature.

Jace leaned in, his lips brushing my ear, breath warm as he whispered, “Parker sometimes has magical powers with women, so we best not risk it,” he said in a low growl.

The gorgeous girl next to Parker snorted, rolling her eyes, and I watched as Parker pressed a soft kiss on the top of her head, looking at her with the same wide-eyed awe that I’d seen before…whenever Jace looked at me.

“I only use my magical powers on one woman,” Parker commented, sounding a bit growly as he pulled the girl closer to him.

My stomach did its weird twisty thing again.

“Nice to meet you,” I murmured, barely audible over the noise, my cheeks heating up as Jace’s fingers squeezed my hip, steady and sure, staking his claim.

Jace gestured to the girl next to Parker next. She was beautiful, with long, dark hair, sharp cheekbones and big, bright eyes that sized me up quick, not mean, just curious.

“This is Casey,” Jace said, his voice softening a little. “Smartest one here, keeps us in line, and the love of Parkie Poo’s life.”

Parker beamed at that intro, and Casey blushed and looked down at the ground, like she wasn’t sure how such a thing could be true either.

“Hey, Riley,” she said, her voice calm, a little husky, and she smiled—just a small curve of her lips, but it felt real.

“Good to meet you.” I nodded back, my hands fidgeting, feeling a little less lost with her steady gaze.

“And this is Matty,” Jace said as a guy with a mop of wavy black hair leaped off the tailgate, landing with a thud that rippled the ground, all lean muscle and swagger in one hot package. Matty had bright blue eyes that were piercing, the kind that’d stop traffic. He was gorgeous—wide and solid, his arms sculpted under a faded UT shirt that clung to every muscle.

There was a pause as he stared at Jace like he was waiting for something.

“Why are you acting weird?” Jace asked. “You’re going to make her think I hang out with weirdos.”

“I’m just waiting for the rest of my introduction,” Matty snapped. “You had a whole bunch of nice things to say about Parker, so where are my nice things?”

“Oh, you’re feeling insecure about the ‘bestilicious number one’ thing,” Jace said with a nod. “That’s only because I met him first. It’s not a ranking thing, per se.”

“Per se…that was a good one,” said Parker.

Jace beamed at him. “Thank you. I knew you would like that one.”

I couldn’t keep the grin off my face.

“I’m still waiting,” said Matty, sounding very disgruntled as he crossed his arms over his chest. “And I don’t think we ever agreed on the No Drama Llamas thing. I think there were better options. Like not having a name at all.”

“He’s just mad that he didn’t think of the group name first,” Jace whispered—loudly—in my ear.

Matty grunted again, and Jace sighed like he was being very put out. “Riley-girl, this is Matthew. Star tight-end, known for his tight end and his missing quarter inch. Bestilicious number two.”

Matty’s face got a little red, and we were all laughing as he stared at Jace like he was going to kill him.

“What’s the quarter inch thing?” I asked.

Matty got even redder.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” he said in a weird, high-pitched voice as he waved his hand at me and jumped back on the tailgate.

Last was another girl, leaning against the truck, her blonde hair catching the firelight like it was made of gold. “This is Natalie,” Jace said, grinning again. “Casey’s bff, our resident fireball. She has a mean right hook we’ve learned, but so far she hasn’t used it on any of us.”

Natalie rolled her eyes, but looked very proud at her introduction. She was tall and curvy, her smile wide and bright, like she was ready to charm the whole world. Her blue eyes sparkled as she waved at me enthusiastically, her nails painted orange to match her UT shirt. “Riley! Oh my gosh, you’re adorable,” she said, her voice bubbly and fast, like she couldn’t wait to spill a hundred stories. “You and Jace are the cutest. Do you like Nerd Gummies and football? It’s okay if you don’t like football. We can work on that.”

I blinked at all the hurried sentences falling out of her mouth as Casey laughed, high and sweet.

“You’re going to scare her off, Nat. And then she won’t want to be friends with us.”

“Of course, she’s going to want to be friends with us,” Natalie retorted, like Casey had said something ridiculous. “We’re awesome.”

Natalie glanced over at me. “You want to be friends with us, right?”

I blinked at her, blushing furiously again as I squeaked out, “Of course.”

Natalie looked at Casey triumphantly. “See?!!”

Jace chuckled behind me, his breath warm against my ear. “Told you they’d love you,” he murmured, low enough that only I could hear, and my heart skipped, caught between nerves and something softer. “It’s impossible not to.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse betraying me with the way it stuttered in my throat.

Jace’s voice was smooth, easy—like this was just another one of his crazy, offhand remarks. Like it was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing.

Not to me.

Not when his breath skimmed my skin, low and intimate, like a secret just for me. Not when his words lingered—sank deep and settled into the place I never let anyone reach.

It was impossible not to.

My stomach flipped, my body reacting before my brain could catch up.

Because it almost sounded like he…

Like he loved me.

Which was ridiculous.

Right?

And yet, as I felt the heat of his body pressed against my back, as his fingers brushed lightly over my wrist like he couldn’t not touch me⁠—

I wasn’t exactly sure.

I was next to Jace, our legs dangling over the edge of Parker’s truck as the bonfire’s roar sliced through the night. Its flames stabbed fifteen feet high, flinging embers that twirled like frantic moths above the Knoxville crowd, a pulsing swarm of coeds, alumni, and stragglers mashed together under a star-slashed sky. Their shouts and slurred laughter hammered my ears over the relentless thud of bass from warped speakers.

And somehow—somehow—this was the most fun I’d ever had.

The group had been good to me, welcoming in a way I wasn’t used to, like I belonged there just as much as any of them. I’d laughed more tonight than I could ever remember laughing in my life, loud, real, unrestrained laughter that had my stomach aching from the sheer force of it. Parker and Matty had drunkenly declared me an honorary Llama member, and Casey and Nat had all but glued themselves to my side, already making plans for us that I couldn’t help but hope were real.

And then there was Jace.

He’d been everywhere—his body always close, his hand brushing my thigh, his knuckles grazing my wrist. He never left my side except to grab me food, and even then, he’d thrown a wink over his shoulder like he dared me to miss him. And maybe I did. Maybe I’d spent every second hyperaware of the way his eyes always found mine first, the way he’d light up just a little whenever I smiled at him.

I was warm from it all. The beer, the heat of the fire, the way my chest felt different—light and heavy all at once.

My head buzzed, foggy from the four or five beers I’d downed. I clutched my latest bottle, already half-empty, the condensation slicking my fingers.

And for the first time in a long, long time…

I felt happy.

The opening chords of “The Only Exception” floated through the night air, soft and lilting, cutting through the thumping bass that had owned the bonfire all evening. The gentle strum of the guitar rippled out, a whisper against the chaos, softening the wild shouts and laughter into something quieter, something sweeter. The crowd shifted, a subtle hush falling over the field as the song’s melody wove through the smoke and firelight. It felt like the world exhaled, just for a moment, and I sat there on the tailgate of that giant black truck, taking it all in.

Jace was in front of me then, his strong hands sliding around my waist, his fingers warm where they moved against my skin.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick and low, wrapping around me like the song itself, pulling me in before I could think to pull away—not that I wanted to, not really.

His hands tightened, and then he lifted me off the tailgate with that ridiculous ease of his, like I weighed nothing. The world tilted as he set me down on the grass, and I swayed for a second—the buzz of the beer making my head light, my movements slow and clumsy. But Jace was there, his hands guiding me, steady and firm, pulling me into him until my chest brushed his, the solid warmth of him grounding me as the music swirled around us.

The firelight danced over his golden hair, turning the messy strands into something glowing, something almost mythical, like he’d stepped out of a story I’d dreamed up. His grip was firm, protective, his arms wrapping me close as he swayed us side to side, slow and deliberate, the crowd fading into a blurry hum beyond us. I pressed my palm against his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath his shirt, strong and alive, matching the rhythm of the song. His warmth seeped into me, melting the tension in my shoulders, softening me against him.

I exhaled, a shaky little breath, and let myself melt into it, into him, lost in our own tiny world, the bonfire’s crackle and the distant chatter falling away.

This wasn’t just a dance.

This was something more.

Jace’s fingers splayed wide against my back, tracing gentle, lazy circles over my hoodie, like he was mapping me out, memorizing every inch he could touch. It wasn’t just holding—he was keeping me, his hands possessive but so tender it made my chest ache.

I rested my cheek against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his skin—clean, warm, so him—and let my eyes flutter shut.

“I think I was always gonna end up here,” Jace murmured, his voice barely a whisper against my ear. “With you.”

My breath caught, a quick, sharp hitch that lodged in my throat, and my fingers tightened on his shirt, clinging to the fabric like it could steady me.

It wasn’t a declaration. Not quite.

But it felt like one, heavy with quiet truth, sinking into me like rain into dry earth.

I pressed closer, my forehead brushing his collarbone, the heat of his skin radiating through his shirt, and he shifted, one hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck, his thumb brushing my hairline, soft and slow. The firelight flickered behind my closed eyes, painting little bursts of gold and orange, but all I could feel was him—his heartbeat under my palm, his breath against my temple, the way he held me like I was something precious, something he’d never let slip away.

“Riley,” he said, so quiet it was almost lost in the music, and I peeked up at him, my lashes lifting slow and hesitant. His face was close—too close—his eyes locked on mine, warm and unguarded, the fire reflecting in them like tiny sparks. His lips curved, just a little, soft and real, and my stomach flipped, a slow, sweet twist that left me breathless.

The song dipped, the lyrics curling around us, wrapping us in its quiet promise, its aching hope.

And I knew.

Knew what it meant to truly fall for someone.

It wasn’t grand gestures or flashy moments. It was this. The quiet, the certainty, the way someone could hold you like they’d never let you go. The thought that maybe…he’d be able to handle me…that he wouldn’t think I was a burden.

I gripped the back of his shirt and clung to him, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to let go either.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice rough at the edges, like it slipped out before he could stop it, and I ducked my head fast, my cheeks burning, a tiny laugh bubbling up despite myself. He chuckled, too, soft and low, his chest rumbling against mine, and he pressed his lips to my forehead—a quick, gentle kiss that sent a shiver racing down my spine.

The song faded, its last notes drifting into the night, but Jace didn’t let go, he didn’t step back. He just held me there, swaying still, like the music hadn’t ended, like it never would. And I stayed, my arms around him, my cheek against his shoulder, the firelight glowing soft and golden around us, feeling—for the first time in a long time—like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

The night stretched on, the bonfire’s glow dimming as people trickled away, their laughter fading into the dark. Jace stayed close, his arm around me as we said goodbyes—Parker’s laugh, Matty’s sloppy wave, Casey’s quiet nod, Natalie’s bubbly hug filling my insides up with a heady, sparkling warmth. And then he led me to his Jeep.

“Are you all right to drive?” I murmured as he helped me into my seat.

“I didn’t drink anything, Riley-girl,” he said, reaching over to snap my seat belt into place.

“You didn’t?” I asked with a frown, before realizing I’d only seen him sipping water the whole evening.

“I didn’t want anything about this night to be blurry,” he answered with a wink as he closed my door.

My head was still light, the beer’s buzz lingering, but his hand in mine felt like an anchor as he drove. There was a part of me that said I should be asking him to take me back to my dorm—but I couldn’t get my mouth to actually say that.

I didn’t want this night to end.

The hum of the engine and the soft country tune on the radio filled the space between us. I leaned my head against the window, watching the blur of trees and streetlights, my heart still fluttering from the dance, from him.

We pulled up to the house he’d told me he shared with Matty, a small place off-campus with a porch light flickering. Jace turned off the engine and looked at me with a soft smile. “C’mon,” he said in a gentle voice, and I followed him inside, my steps echoing across the floor as he flicked on a lamp, casting a warm glow over the living room.

My eyes widened when I saw the room. I’d been expecting some grimy jock crash pad, maybe a futon and a pile of beer cans. But it was way nicer than I’d pictured. The living room stretched out, sleek hardwood and plush vibes—a big leather couch, a glass coffee table gleaming under a soft lamp, and a shelf lined with shiny football trophies that caught the light just right. A huge flat-screen hung on the wall, and the air smelled faintly of cedar, warm and inviting, like it was actually lived-in, not just a pit stop.

Jace tossed his keys onto a polished side table with a clink, then turned to me, his hands shoved in his pockets, looking almost…shy? Like he wasn’t sure how to play this now that we were here. “How are you feeling?” he asked, stepping closer, his brown eyes locking on mine, searching, like he was looking for some sign from me. “It’s late. I can drive you back if⁠—”

“No,” I said, too quick, my voice soft but firm, surprising even me. I swallowed, my hands fidgeting at my sides. “I want to stay. With you.”

His brows lifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, then that grin crept back, slow and warm. “Yeah?” he said, stepping closer still, until I could feel the heat of him again, that pine-and-Jace scent wrapping around me.

We stumbled down the hall, a tangle of limbs and quiet laughs, my hoodie slipping to the floor as we made it inside a bedroom. I didn’t even bother to look around—didn’t care about the walls, the furniture, the shadows cast by the dim light spilling in from the hall. My focus was all on him, on Jace, his golden hair mussed from my fingers, his brown eyes catching mine with that warm, steady glow that made my heart skip. He sat down on a king-sized bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and tugged me onto his lap, his hands replaceing me like they always did—curling around my hips, sliding up my back, and threading through my hair.

I felt alive, electric, the buzz of the beer I’d sipped at the bonfire sharpening into something bright and clear, like the night had peeled back every layer until it was just us, raw and real.

His touch was everywhere, in his warm palms pressing into my spine, his fingers brushing the bare skin where my shirt had ridden up, tangling gently in my ponytail.

I couldn’t get enough, I couldn’t stop the way my breath hitched, the way my hands pressed against his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. I pulled back, breathless, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the faint stubble prickling my skin, and I looked at him, really looked, seeing the flush on his cheeks, the way his lips parted, soft and waiting. My chest fluttered, a wild, nervous beat, and I slid off his lap, slow and deliberate, kneeling between his legs, my hands resting on his thighs, the denim rough under my palms.

“Riley—” he started, his hands reaching for me, hovering like he wasn’t sure if he should pull me back or let me go. His eyes widened, a flicker of worry cutting through the heat, but I shook my head, my decision settling firm and warm in my chest, a quiet certainty I hadn’t felt in so long.

“I want to,” I said, looking up at him, my voice steady despite the flutter in my stomach. His jeans were tight, the outline of him hard and obvious against the fabric, and I reached for his belt, my fingers trembling but sure, the metal cool against my touch.

This wasn’t just impulse—it was more, something I’d been turning over in my head all night, maybe longer. I wanted to show him, really show him, how much he meant, how much I liked him—how much I liked the way he made me feel seen, safe, wanted.

With Callum, this had been a chore, a demand I’d hated, something I’d dreaded every time his voice turned harsh, his hands too heavy. I’d always felt small after, hollowed out, like I’d given up a piece of myself I couldn’t get back.

But with Jace? I wanted to give him this—not because he asked, not because I had to, but because I chose it, because it felt right, like a gift I could wrap around him, something tender and mine to offer.

“You’re drunk,” Jace murmured, catching my wrists, his voice uneven as his thumbs brushed my pulse points, gentle but firm. His eyes searched mine, wide and worried, his breath shallow like he was fighting himself. “Babycakes, you don’t have to⁠—”

“I’m not,” I cut in, shaking my head, my voice soft but fierce. “I feel more alive, more alert, than I ever have.” I met his gaze, unwavering, my heart pounding with something bold, something new. “I want this. With you.”

He stared at me, his grip loosening, and then he exhaled, a shaky, awed sound, his hands falling to his sides. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice raw, and I smiled—a small, real smile—before unbuckling his belt, sliding it free, my fingers brushing the heat of his skin as I unzipped his jeans.

“Get on your knees.” Callum’s voice echoed in my head, but I blinked him away, the warmth of Jace’s bedroom flooding back, his brown eyes locked on mine—soft, reverent, nothing like Callum’s.

This was different. This was me choosing, me taking, and it felt like light breaking through a crack I’d forgotten was there.

He lifted his hips, and I tugged his jeans down, his briefs next, and he sprang free—thick, hard…huge. The sight of him sent a shiver through me. It wasn’t fear, though, it was want. I leaned in, my hands moving up his thighs, feeling the muscle tense under my touch as I pressed a soft kiss to the tip, tasting the drop of salt and heat already beading from his slit.

Jace groaned, low and deep, his head tipping back as his hands fisted the comforter. “Riley—” he breathed, my name a prayer on his lips, and I smiled against his skin, my heart swelling with something powerful…something mine.

I took some of him into my mouth, slow and deliberate, my tongue tracing his length, learning him, savoring the way he shuddered, the way his breath hitched with every move I made. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t forced. It was tender, intentional…a gift I wanted to give.

His hands hovered, like he didn’t know where to put them, and then they settled in my hair. He didn’t push, he just rested them there, his fingers threading gently through the strands.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he rasped in a breaking voice. I glanced up, meeting his eyes—wide, awestruck, glowing with something that made my chest ache. I moved faster, my lips sliding over him, my hand wrapping around the base, stroking in time with my mouth, and he moaned, a raw, beautiful sound that sent a thrill racing through me.

I felt strong, alive, every shudder of his body a testament to my choice, my power. This wasn’t Callum’s cold demand—this was Jace, open and vulnerable, giving himself to me as much as I was giving to him. I swirled my tongue, teasing the sensitive spot beneath the tip, and his hips jerked, a choked “Riley” spilling out, his voice thick with wonder. I hummed softly, the vibration making him gasp, his fingers tightening in my hair just enough to feel real, to feel connected.

Time blurred, the room fading to just us. The soft creak of the bed, the ragged rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of him against my lips.

I took him deeper, my throat relaxing, my hands steady, and he trembled, his control fraying, his moans growing louder, more desperate. “Riley—I’m—” he warned in a strained voice, but I didn’t pull back, didn’t stop, wanting him to feel it, to know this was mine to give.

He came with a groan, loud and shattering, his body arching, his hands clutching my hair as he pulsed against my tongue, hot and overwhelming. I stayed with him, swallowing every drop of his cum, my heart feeling like it was glowing inside me until he stilled, his chest heaving as his fingers caressed my jaw. I pulled back slowly, wiping my lips with the back of my hand as I looked up at him.

My breath was uneven, my cheeks were warm.

Jace stared down at me, his eyes wide and glassy, his mouth parted like he couldn’t replace words. “Riley,” he finally said hoarsely, reverently, and he reached for me, pulling me up into his lap, his arms wrapping tight around me. “Holy shit, babycakes,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to mine, his hands trembling as they cupped my face. “You’re…you’re incredible.”

I smiled, small and shy, my heart overflowing, and nestled into him, my cheek against his chest, feeling the steady drum of his heartbeat—fast, wild, alive. This wasn’t just a moment; it was everything. A collision of fate and fire, a quiet storm of something undeniable, something that made me feel seen, whole.

Later that night, as I listened to his quiet breaths, our limbs tangled in his bed, I had so many thoughts.

Sex with Callum had been a transaction. A carefully orchestrated game where I was always two steps behind, where I never quite knew the rules until it was too late. His touch had been firm but distant, rehearsed in a way that made it clear he was more interested in controlling me than in making me feel anything.

With Callum, I had been something to be handled. A possession, a trophy, a thing to be claimed rather than cherished. He had never once looked at me like I mattered, never once let me lead, never once given me space to breathe.

I never felt safe.

Even when I thought I wanted him, there had always been a hesitation. A wrongness pressing against my ribs, something dark curling in my gut. He made me feel small. Trapped. Powerless.

And I hated that, for so long, I had convinced myself that was just how it was supposed to be.

Because Jace?

He was everything Callum wasn’t.

Jace touched me like I was something holy. Like I was made of delicate, breakable things but strong enough to take whatever he gave me. His hands were rough but reverent, his mouth soft but insistent. He listened. He worshiped. He made me feel wanted, not owned.

And the biggest difference?

With Jace, I never felt afraid.

Not once. Not even when his grip tightened in my hair, not even when he pressed me into the mattress, not even when he kissed me so deeply I forgot my own name.

Because Jace didn’t just take—he gave.

Every touch was a question. A promise. A demand wrapped in devotion.

And for the first time, I understood.

It was never supposed to hurt.

It was never supposed to feel like a cage.

It was supposed to feel like…this.