Page 119 of The Wrong Play

A tear slipped down my cheek.

Jace caught it with his lips, kissing it away like he could take the pain with it.

I didn’t know what to say.

So, I didn’t say anything.

Instead, I finally exhaled.

I finally let go.

And when Jace pulled me into his arms, I let myself be held.

Because maybe, just maybe, he meant every word.

For three days, he was there—skipping drills, dodging his coach’s wrath, sleeping next to me when I drifted off, waking me with water, his voice a low hum through the fog.

Jace…he held me like I was worth it, like my broken pieces fit his jagged ones. By the fourth day, the fog lifted, my body lightened, and he grinned, all teeth and triumph. “There she is—my girl’s back.”

I’d laughed, weak but real, and knew then—he’d carved a space in me no one else could touch.

That night, the air in the bedroom shifted—soft and heavy, a quiet hum from the radiator weaving through the stillness, blending with the sound of our breaths as we sat on the bed. The comforter was a tangle around our legs, it kind of felt like a shield against the world outside. Jace was sprawled beside me, his golden hair a beautiful mess from my fingers running through it earlier, his shirt clinging to the broad lines of his frame, hinting at the strength beneath. I caught his gaze—those brown eyes, warm and glinting with something softer than his usual cocky smirk—and my chest tightened, a pull I couldn’t resist…a pull I didn’twantto resist.

Not anymore.

“Jace,” I whispered, my voice a fragile thread as I reached for him. My fingers brushed his jaw, rough with a day’s stubble, and he caught my hand, pressing it to his lips. His breath was warm against my skin, a tender kiss that sent a shiver racing through me, and the world shrank—just him, just me, this delicate, perfect moment suspended in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

“You want some more peppermint tea, don’t you?” he said proudly, moving to get off the bed.

I huffed softly, because he was a professional at this point at peppermint tea. But what I wanted…was something more.

“Jace,” I murmured, brushing my hand down his chest. His eyes widened, and he gulped dramatically.

“Riley-girl, I?—”

“Give me what I want, Jace Thatcher.”

“Are you sure?” His voice was raw, quiet, a plea edged with restraint. “I don’t want to rush you, sweetheart. Not if you’re not ready.”

The sweetness in his words made my chest tighten, stealing the air from my lungs.

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling around his, brushing over the rough calluses on his palm—the marks of a man whohad clawed his way to the top with sheer will. And now…now he was here, looking at me like I was something he was willing to fight for too.

“Jace,” I murmured. “I want this. I want you. More than anything.” I blew out a breath. “Ineedyou.”

His breath hitched at that, the sound making warmth unfurl in my stomach, slow and aching. He gripped my waist, his fingers spreading across my skin through the thin fabric of my tank top, like he was memorizing every inch.

“Fuck, Riley,” he whispered, his voice breaking with awe. “I’ve missed this.”

He lifted the hem of my shirt, peeling it up with care, baring my skin to the soft light, and I shivered—not from the chill. But from him…from the way his eyes traced me, like I was a treasure he’d uncovered, a star he’d pulled from the night sky.

I raised my arms, letting him slip the tank top over my head, the air cool against my flushed skin as it fell away. My breath caught as his fingers grazed my ribs, mapping me with a tenderness that felt like a promise, like he was seeing every part of me, the scars, the freckles, the shaky rise and fall of my chest…and loving it all.

My hands were trembling as they moved to his shirt, tugging it up and off. I needed to feel him, his warmth, his skin against mine. He helped me, pulling it over his head, and I traced the planes of his chest with my fingertips, worshiping all the taut muscle…the abs that made me wet just thinking about them.

“Please,” I breathed, my voice a soft plea as I pulled him down, our mouths meeting in a kiss. It was gentle at first, then deepened, our tongues tangling together as he licked into me. He groaned, a low, reverent sound that vibrated through my chest.

Pulling back, his eyes met mine…searching. “You’re sure?” he pressed again, his voice thick with concern. “Youreallyfeel up to this?”

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