The Wrong Play: A Football Romance (The Wrong Player Series Book 2)
The Wrong Play: Chapter 22

The second Jace carried me over the threshold like some old-fashioned groom, I knew I was in trouble.

Not the kind of trouble where you get caught sneaking back into your dorm after curfew. But the kind of trouble where the ground beneath you shifts, where you look around and realize you’ve walked straight into the lion’s den. And the lion? He was grinning like he’d already won.

Jace kicked the door shut behind him, his grip on me firm like he thought I’d try to bolt. To be fair, I probably should have. Instead, I was too busy processing the absolute absurdity of my life. I had bed bugs. My dorm was unlivable. My weird-ass roommate had screamed herself into a concussion. And now, I was being princess-carried into the home of the man who was way too happy for a college junior about to have a live-in girlfriend.

Matty was slumped on the couch, a bag of chips open on his lap. He took one look at me, one at Jace, and exhaled like he had seen this coming from a mile away.

“Dude.” Matty’s tone was pure resignation. “You actually did it. You kidnapped her.”

Jace smirked, finally setting me down, but not before his fingers flexed like he was reluctant to let go. “She came willingly.”

Matty gave me a look that said, Did you, though?

I ignored it because if I thought too hard about how fast all of this had happened, I might actually scream.

Jace didn’t give me time to process anything. He took my hand and pulled me toward the hallway. “Come on, Riley-girl. Let’s get you settled.”

“Do you have a guest room?” I asked, because as bad as it was to be moving into his house…it was definitely too much for me to be in his space every day sharing his room.

“Nope.” He led me into his room and did a little ta-da move.

Jace didn’t hesitate. The second we stepped inside, he strode over to the dresser and got to work. I hovered near the doorway, watching as he grabbed my bag, unzipped it, and started pulling out my clothes, neatly stacking them in one of the open drawers.

“Wow,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “No fear at all, huh?”

He barely glanced at me, his smirk pure arrogance. “Fear of what?”

I gestured vaguely. “I don’t know…the possibility that my stuff is now riddled with microscopic parasites?”

Jace scoffed, completely unconcerned. “Nah.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Nah?”

He shot me a look over his shoulder, like I’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Not worried about it.”

I frowned. “You’re not worried about bed bugs?”

“Not even a little.”

That was…odd. Most people would at least be mildly concerned. Hell, I was concerned. I’d spent the entire drive over mentally cataloging everything I owned, trying to determine what could be salvaged if the infestation had made it into my things. But Jace? Zero hesitation. Like he knew something I didn’t.

A strange feeling slithered down my spine, but before I could dwell on it, he kept unpacking, pulling out my socks, my shirts, my sleep shorts—each one folded and placed away like he’d done this a million times.

That was when I saw it.

Not the drawer he was filling. The one he wasn’t.

It was already full.

My steps slowed as I took it in.

I stopped cold. “Jace.”

He turned, looking at me with that lazy, infuriating confidence, like he knew exactly what had me gaping. “Yeah?”

I lifted my hand, pointing toward the dresser. “Is that⁠—”

“Your drawer?” He finished for me, strolling over to pull it farther open. Inside were things that should not be there. My favorite brand of socks. A sleep shirt that looked suspiciously like it was my size. Even the same type of hairbrush I used.

I moved to the closet next, opening the door, my stomach tightening when I saw hangers. Empty space. Room for me.

His bathroom? My shampoo. My conditioner. My brand of body wash.

I turned slowly, my pulse a steady drumbeat in my ears. “Jace.”

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “Riley.”

I swallowed. “What the hell is all this?”

He pushed off the frame, walking toward me, every step deliberate. When he stopped in front of me, he tilted his head as if he was amused I’d even asked.

“I like to be prepared.” His voice was smooth, just the right mix of teasing and something darker. “And this? Was always going to happen.”

A shiver ran across my skin, and I wasn’t sure if it was from his voice, his presence, or the sheer weight of what he had just said.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Then finally managed, “I can’t decide if this is the creepiest thing anyone has ever done for me or⁠—”

Jace cut me off before I could finish. “Charming.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

“Sure it was.” His lips twitched. “Riley-girl, you wouldn’t be standing here if you didn’t like it.”

I made a sound that was dangerously close to a scoff, even as I was very aware that he was right. “That’s a bold assumption. This is only until I can replace another place.”

His grin sharpened. “I don’t assume.”

There it was. The thing that set Jace apart from every other guy I had ever met. It wasn’t just confidence—it was certainty. He pursued me with the same single-minded focus he probably used in a game. No hesitation. No doubt.

I stepped back because I needed space. He let me, but there was something in his gaze that said only for now.

I swallowed, then turned abruptly, heading back toward the living room because I needed to be anywhere else before I did something stupid.

Matty was still on the couch, halfway through his bag of chips, completely oblivious to the emotional warfare I had just endured.

He glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “You good?”

I sat down hard, grabbing a handful of his chips and stuffing them into my mouth before answering. “No.”

Jace strolled in like he owned the place—because, well, he did—and dropped onto the couch next to me, throwing an arm over the back like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Matty chewed thoughtfully. “You look like someone who just realized they’re in over their head.”

I pointed at him. “Exactly.”

Jace made a dismissive noise, reaching over to pluck one of Matty’s chips out of the bag. “She’s fine.”

I turned to glare at him. “I haven’t decided if I’m fine yet.”

He flashed that lazy, arrogant smirk that made me want to throw things. “You will.”

I groaned and flopped back against the couch, my mind spinning with everything that had happened tonight.

This was insane—we were insane.

Jace winked, though, all cocky confidence and unshakable certainty, and I couldn’t stop my answering grin. The warmth that spread through me wasn’t fear or doubt—it was something terrifyingly close to right. Like no matter how twisted or obsessed we were, this was exactly where I was meant to be.

JACE

She was finally here for good. In my bed. Wrapped in my sheets. Breathing in my space.

I lay beside her, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest. Her lips were slightly parted, her hair a mess against my pillow, the strands catching the moonlight filtering through the blinds. Too pretty. Too perfect. And completely mine.

She slept with one hand curled beneath her cheek, her body relaxed in a way I’d never seen before. That should have been a good thing, but all it did was remind me how much I needed to keep her here.

My cameras—strategically placed—gave me every angle of the room so I could watch her when I couldn’t be here. There was one trained on the bed and another covering the entrance. A final one was in the corner near my dresser, positioned to capture the room’s entire layout.

I should have been satisfied, I should have closed my eyes and gone to sleep, but I wasn’t done.

My fingers curled around the tiny device Jagger had sent me. Small. Subtle. Undetectable. Just like he promised.

I moved carefully, pressing it against her skin and firing the tracker beneath the soft curve of her shoulder. She stirred slightly, a quiet moan escaping her lips. My breath caught, watching her lashes flutter, but the sleeping pill I’d slipped into her drink at dinner had done its job. She didn’t wake.

A slow grin curled my lips. Perfect.

I tucked the device away and shifted closer, pulling her against me, inhaling her scent. Soft. Sweet. Addictive.

She was finally right where she belonged.

By the time the sun filtered through the curtains, I was already up, moving silently in the kitchen. Matty sat at the kitchen island, freshly back from a jog, drenched in sweat and looking like he wanted to murder someone. He was stirring his protein shake aggressively, eyes narrowing at me as I cracked eggs into a pan.

“What are you doing?” Matty grumbled, eyeing the ingredients I had set out.

“Making breakfast.”

“For yourself?”

I smirked. “For Riley.”

He groaned, taking a long gulp from his drink. “You’re acting suspicious.”

I flipped the eggs with practiced ease. “I’m always suspicious.”

“No, this is worse.” He leveled a glare at me. “You look…smug.”

“I have a lot to be smug about.”

Matty groaned. “Jace. There’s obsessed and then there’s Parker. Think about who you want to be when you grow up.”

I grinned, sliding the eggs onto a plate. “Maybe Parker wants to be me when he grows up.”

Matty shook his head, muttering something about how I was insane. I ignored him and piled Riley’s plate with exactly what I knew she liked—fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and a stack of pancakes with just the right amount of syrup. I grabbed a fresh cup of coffee, made exactly how she drank it, and balanced it all on a tray before heading back to the bedroom.

When I pushed open the door, Riley was stirring, her hair a tangled mess, her skin flushed with sleep. She stretched, blinking up at me as I set the tray down beside her.

“You made me breakfast?” she mumbled in a husky voice.

I smirked, leaning in and brushing a kiss against her lips before I set down the tray in her lap. “You’ve finally given me what I want, and surprise—there are major rewards.”

She scoffed and grabbed her fork, stabbing a big bite of eggs. “I slept so good last night,” she said as she slipped it into her mouth…looking appropriately impressed with my kitchen skills.

I fought back another smirk, knowing exactly why she’d slept so good. I made a mental note—next time, no sleeping pill. I had better ways to make sure she slept soundly, ones that involved more orgasms, which were always better than drugs.

She took a sip of her coffee and shook her head in disbelief. “A girl could get used to this, Thatcher.”

“That’s the goal,” I murmured, watching with satisfaction as her jaw dropped, and a slow blush crept up her cheeks.

Good. Let her start getting used to the idea. Because she wasn’t going anywhere.