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

The first thing I did after Jace left for practice was send an appointment to our shared calendar on his phone. A notification set to go off the second practice ended.

With this simple message attached:

Track me.

I could already picture the look on his face when he saw it—the smirk, the little huff of amusement. And, of course, he’d listen. Because tracking me had become his favorite pastime.

So, when he finished practice and checked his phone, I knew exactly what he’d done. He’d opened his little app that I’d discovered, zeroed in on my location, and frowned at the little dot blinking at an address he didn’t recognize.

Jace: What are you up to, my lady?

“Riley, we’re ready for you,” the front desk called. I nodded at him and stood from my seat, ignoring the rapid fire texts Jace was sending as I followed him to the back and slid onto the procedure table.

The assistant came in as I was studying the artwork on the walls, and I winced as she swiped antiseptic across my skin. I was nervous, but it was the good kind of nervous. The kind that made my stomach flutter and my heart race, because this? This was permanent. Unlike my parents. Who hadn’t even picked up after the news about Callum came out.

But very much like Jace. Because he was forever.

I had finished telling her why I was there, and she had started working, when the door up front suddenly swung open. The wind swept in, along with six-foot-four inches of territorial, sweat-drenched football player. He bent over, his breaths coming out in gasps, holding up one finger before he straightened up and looked around for me. Ever the drama queen, as usual.

His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he shook his head in confusion as he stalked over to where I was laying down.

“What are you doing?” Jace’s voice was part exasperation, part disbelief when he got to me. His cleats were still on, and his practice bag was slung over his shoulder.

He must have run here.

“Babycakes, you—” He frowned as he glanced around before his gaze finally landed on the stenciled design on my ribs, and his expression did something I wasn’t expecting.

It softened.

His name sat just beneath my ribs, exactly where my lungs expanded when I breathed.

Jace inhaled sharply. “Riley.”

His voice sounded different—hoarse, almost reverent.

I turned my head, meeting his eyes, feeling the weight of the moment settle over us like gravity itself had thickened. “You did it first,” I said softly.

His brows drew together slightly, like he was still struggling to process it.

“The first time I saw my name on you, I thought it was crazy. I thought maybe you were just being your usual reckless, obsessive self.” I let out a small, shaky laugh. “But then I realized something. I never once doubted it. I never questioned whether you meant it, whether you’d regret it.”

Jace’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hands flexing at his sides like he wanted to reach for me but didn’t want to interrupt.

I inhaled deeply, feeling his name on my ribs, like it was becoming a part of me. “Every time you take a breath, you lift me up. So now, every time I breathe, I’ll lift you up, too.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes shiny. I tapped my ribs, right over his name. My voice dropped, my words carrying the weight of a truth I’d only just come to understand.

“Let’s breathe for each other, Jace Thatcher.”

His eyes darkened, and he exhaled like I’d just knocked the wind out of him. His bag hit the floor with a dull thud before his fingers brushed the edge of my jaw, tilting my face toward his. “You’re really mine, aren’t you?” His voice was rough, almost awed.

I smiled, small and certain. “I always will be. Now and forever.”

His fingers traced the design, light as a whisper, before he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. Before he could say anything else, though…the artist cleared her throat. “Uh, if you two lovebirds are ready…”

I snorted, because I’d kind of forgotten she was there.

I lay back, my breath steady, and let the needle carve Jace into my skin like he’d already carved himself into my life.

Later that night, I found it.

Tucked in the back of the closet, half-forgotten but impossible to mistake—a black blindfold. I picked it up, smoothing my fingers over the fabric, and an idea sparked.

Jace had just stepped out of the shower, a towel slung low on his hips, water droplets still clinging to his chest. His hair was damp, messy, the blond strands curling slightly at the ends from the steam, and his muscles flexed with every lazy step he took toward me.

I needed a second to process the sight.

Because there was something almost unfair about Jace Thatcher when he was fresh out of the shower—like he’d been handcrafted for sin. Every sharp plane of his body, every defined ridge of his abs, was on full display, glistening under the soft light. His tattooed chest was broad, his shoulders unfairly wide, tapering down into a tight, cut waist, the kind of V-line that could make a woman forget all common sense.

I swallowed, my gaze trailing lower, taking in the way the towel barely clung to his hips, hanging loose, taunting. It wouldn’t take much—a tug, a well-timed stretch—for it to drop, and that knowledge made my pulse thud a little harder.

And then, my gaze caught on the ink that sat just along his ribs, standing stark against his tan skin. My name.

Riley.

My breath hitched, and I bit my lip, heat creeping up my spine as I imagined tracing my tongue over the letters, tasting the proof of his devotion. My own ribs were feeling tender after their new ink…but certainly not enough to stop me from having some…fun.

His lips twitched like he could feel my stare, like he knew exactly what was going through my head.

“Enjoying the view, babycakes?”

Cocky bastard. He was eyefucking me just as hard since I was dressed in nothing but a shirt and a pair of underwear.

I huffed, crossing my arms, even though my face felt way too warm. “It’s not my fault you look like this.”

His smirk deepened, and he took another step closer, his abs tensing, his towel dangerously loose. “Yeah?” His voice was thick, amused. “Is that why you’re undressing me with your eyes?”

Scoffing, my pulse betrayed me with another hard thump. “There’s not much left to undress, Thatcher.”

His gaze darkened, dropping to my bare legs before snapping back up. “Then why don’t you finish the job?”

I sucked in a breath, my knees suddenly very weak.

And then—his towel shifted. Not downward. Upward.

The thick material lifted, tenting as his body betrayed him, and my cheeks burned, even though I was well acquainted at this point with this monster of a dick.

Jace’s smirk turned…sinful, and his brown eyes gleamed with satisfaction, enjoying every second of my internal meltdown. “Something on your mind?”

I crossed my arms, shifting my weight, trying very hard to not look at the very obvious issue in front of me. “Your towel is…um…” I gestured vaguely.

He tilted his head, mock confusion clouding his expression. “What about it?”

I glared. “It’s moving.”

Jace let out a deep, rumbling chuckle, running a slow hand through his damp hair, making the muscles in his arm flex way too distractingly. “Huh. Weird. Wonder what could be causing that.”

I approached him, the blindfold hidden behind my back, trying to get a hold of myself so this game could go how I wanted it to.

“Do you trust me, Jace?” I asked, trying to make my voice at least a little sexy sounding.

He lifted a brow. “Riley-girl, that smile is dangerous.”

I grinned wider. “Close your eyes.”

Jace’s smirk deepened, but he obeyed. “As you wish.” I rolled my eyes, because he’d gotten that from watching Princess Bride with me last night.

Stepping closer, I smoothed my fingers over his jaw before slipping the blindfold over his head, tying it snugly. The second the fabric slid into place, his body went rigid.

“They really should have invested in softer material,” he muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening like he was suppressing a memory.

Pausing, my hands lingered at the knot. “Jace?”

His smirk returned, a fraction too quick. “Nothing. Just an observation.”

I hesitated for a second longer, but his lips curled, like he was daring me to keep questioning him. So I didn’t. I had other things I wanted to be doing.

“So, you trust me?” I asked again.

He swallowed hard. “With my life.”

“And you can’t see anything?” I checked.

He snorted. “Not a thing.”

A thrill shot through me.

I stepped closer, my hands skimming over his abs, his breath hitching as I pressed up on my toes, letting my lips brush along his jaw.

“Come to bed, Jace,” I murmured, my voice soft, coaxing.

His smirk deepened. “Babycakes, I was just about to say the same thing to you.”

I grinned, pushing on his chest so he stepped backward until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. He didn’t resist, letting me guide him down, his body sprawled beneath me, all sharp lines and muscle, and deliciousness.

Fuck. He was beautiful.

I climbed over him, straddling his waist, dragging my nails lightly down his chest. “You’re awfully compliant,” I teased.

He smirked. “This is definitely my idea of a good time, just so you know.”

I leaned in, brushing my lips just shy of his. “I’ll make a note.”

His fingers ghosted up my spine before his hand curled around my waist, pulling me flush against him. My heart pounded, my body humming at the feel of him, the warmth of his skin, the raw intensity in his grip.

Perfect.

I pressed kisses along his jaw as I trailed my fingers up his arm, slow, deliberate, letting my touch lull him deeper into this moment. And then, quick as a flash⁠—

Click.

Jace stilled.

Flexed his wrist. The unmistakable sound of metal rattling filled the room.

“Riley.”

I eased back, admiring my handiwork, my heart pounding from the thrill of it. Gotcha.

“Yes, dear?”

His jaw clenched. He yanked his arm, his wrist securely fastened by the pink, furry handcuff I’d attached to the bedpost earlier.

“What the hell?” His voice was low, laced with something between exasperation and intrigue.

I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle my giggle. “I thought it was time for a little payback.”

“Riley.” His voice dropped into a warning, rough and low. “Take them off.”

I pouted, dragging my fingers lightly over his wrist where the pink furry cuffs were holding him hostage. “Don’t like being handcuffed, huh?”

His fingers flexed against the restraints, his muscles pulling tight. “Riley,” he said again.

I ignored the tension in his voice, too caught up in the way his body looked stretched beneath me—his arm strained, his bicep flexing, his abs tight and ridged, dipping into that deep V that disappeared under the towel still slung around his waist. My name on his ribs, rising and falling with each deep breath he took.

Mine. All of him was mine.

A thrill shot through me as I traced the ink with my fingertips, watching his stomach clench in response. His body was so responsive to me, and I reveled in it.

“You love being in control,” I murmured, dragging my nails up his chest, my touch featherlight.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he reached for me with his other hand. “And, you love pushing your luck, babycakes.”

I caught his wrist and pressed it into the mattress as I grinned, leaning in to press a soft, teasing kiss to the center of his chest. “No touching.”

His breath hitched as I dragged my lips lower, kissing over the hard ridges of his abs, my tongue flicking out just enough to taste his skin. He jerked slightly at the sensation, his body completely at my mercy.

His towel twitched.

I bit back a smile as I ran my tongue along his tattoo before moving down to the cut of his hip bone, kissing my way to the edge of the fabric still clinging to him. The strain in his muscles, the way his body coiled beneath me like a loaded spring…I loved this.

“I wonder, Riley-girl—” His voice was tight, controlled, but there was desperation beneath it. “If you know exactly what you’re doing right now…”

I laughed, my insides clenching just thinking about what the danger in his voice would mean for me later on.

I lifted my gaze, and slowly—so agonizingly slow—peeled his towel away.

His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, and a pulse of need shot through me at the sight of him laid out for me like this. “Hmm. No wonder you liked this so much.”

Jace’s chest rose and fell in deep, controlled breaths as I wrapped my fingers around him, watching the way his jaw clenched at the first firm stroke.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his arm tensing against the cuffs.

I dragged my tongue along the underside of his length, slow and deliberate, teasing him as I swirled around the tip, savoring the taste of him.

Jace groaned, his hips instinctively bucking up, as his free hand reached out, searching for something to grasp.

I immediately pulled away, so there was no way for him to get to me. “I believe I said no touching, Mr. Thatcher.”

His head snapped back against the pillow, his knuckles going white as he yanked at the cuffs again, frustration crackling off of him in waves.

I smiled against him, taking him deeper, letting my tongue glide along his length before hollowing my cheeks and sucking him in.

A harsh, ragged curse slipped from his lips. “Fucking hell⁠—”

His muscles were tight, his body trembling as he fought not to break. His bicep flexed again, his stomach clenching as I took him deeper, swallowing him down until his thighs shook beneath my hands.

His whole body went rigid, his fingers flexing against the restraint as a growl ripped through him. “I hate this. I hate not fucking touching you.”

I moaned around him, knowing that sound would drive him insane.

“Riley,” he snapped, his voice wrecked. “You better⁠—”

His words cut off into a snarl as I sucked harder, taking him deeper, my hands gripping his thighs, nails lightly scraping along his skin.

“Fuck. Fuck.” He yanked his arm again, the bed frame groaning under the force.

My tongue flicked over him once more, slow and teasing, and then…

Snap.

The furry cuff ripped free, the bedpost splintering where the wood had given way. The blindfold went flying somewhere off the bed.

And in a blink, his hands were on me.

He flipped us in one smooth, overpowering motion, his body covering mine, pinning me to the mattress before I could react.

I gasped, my heart hammering, but Jace was already on me—his big, warm hands gripping my wrists, shoving them above my head, his weight pressing flush against me, his breath hot against my lips.

He glared down at me, his gaze breathless and burning as he took me in.

I was very smug about the way his chest was heaving, how his brown eyes were dark and filled with something primal…something very fun. “That was a dirty trick, Riley-girl.”

I was breathless, laughing, but entirely at his mercy now. “I don’t regret it.”

His lips twitched, that signature smirk flickering over his face. “Oh, I know.”

His lips slammed against mine—wild, claiming, relentless—stealing my breath the way he always did, the way he always would.

Jace dragged my thighs apart, his body pressing against mine like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between us.

A sharp gasp left me as his fingers curled around the thin lace of my underwear. There was no hesitation, no warning…just a low growl and the snarl of fabric as he ripped them clean off my body.

“Jace—”

His mouth crashed back onto mine, swallowing my gasp, his tongue sweeping inside, devouring, as his fingers replaced what he’d just torn away. He slid through my slick heat, teasing, pressing, his touch ruthless, knowing exactly how to pull me apart.

“I don’t like not touching you,” he growled against my lips, his breath ragged, his control barely there as he pressed his length against me, dragging the tip along my entrance, teasing us both.

I writhed beneath him desperately, my fingers clawing at his back as I tried to pull him closer, deeper.

He slammed into me, hot and hard and so deep I arched, a cry breaking from my lips.

He didn’t give me time to adjust, didn’t ease into it. He owned me, thrusting deep, filling me completely, stretching me until there was nothing left of me but him.

My nails dug into his shoulders as pleasure crashed through me. “Yeeesss!”

“That’s it,” he muttered against my throat, his lips dragging down to my collarbone, sucking, biting, marking me. “Take it. Take all of me.”

I clenched around him, my body pulling him deeper, harder, and his rhythm turned brutal—relentless—like he had to remind me that I belonged right here, under him, taking every ounce of his obsession.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” he rasped, shifting his angle, hitting the spot that made me cry out.

I was unraveling, pleasure coiling deep, burning hotter and hotter, my body tightening, chasing the peak I knew was coming too fast, too hard.

“Baby…” My voice broke as the climax ripped through me, pleasure exploding in every nerve, leaving me shattered and shaking beneath him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, thrusting once, twice—then burying himself deep, his body locking against mine as he came with a loud, wrecked sound.

We stayed like that, tangled and trembling, his breath warm against my skin, his hands still gripping my thighs like he’d never let go.

His lips brushed against my temple, softer now, his voice hushed, reverent. “I’ll get you back for that, babycakes.”

I let out a breathless, contented laugh. “I’m looking forward to it.”

His fingers traced slow, lazy circles on my spine as he pulled me closer like I was something precious.

I turned my head, my lips brushing over the strong curve of his jaw, my heart full and steady, knowing that this…this was where I belonged. Always.