Page 34 of The Wrong Play

I sat up so fast that my stool nearly tipped over.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, voice way too high. I cleared my throat, forcing casual. “Yeah. Why?”

“She left her credit card behind. Figured you might want it back.”

He pushed it toward me. I stared at it. The shiny black card, the little gold chip in the corner. Thenameprinted across the front.

I reached for it, my fingers shaking, my pulse racing.

Riley St. James.

I knew her name now. I finally fucking knew her name. My grin was so wide it hurt.

“Gentlemen,” I said, holding up the card like I’d just won the fucking lottery. “Do you know what this is?”

Parker and Matty both stared at me for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“What?” Parker asked, raising a brow.

Matty leaned in. “A credit card?”

I laughed, because oh, they had no idea. My whole body was thrumming with victory.

“Nope.” I smirked, my grip tightening around the card like it was my golden ticket. “This is a sign.”

Matty rolled his eyes, clapping me on the back. “Or it’s just her credit card, dumbass. Either way, let’s get you another drink before you start proposing.”

But I didn’t need another drink. Because I had what I needed.

I had her name. And now?

Now, she was never getting away from me again.

CHAPTER 5

RILEY

Iwoke up gasping for air.

My body ached, a delicious soreness lingering in places I hadn’t felt in a long time, and for a moment, I was warm. Safe. My mind drifted back, memories of his hands gripping my waist, his mouth branding my skin, his deep, husky laughter vibrating through my chest as he teased me, his eyes locking onto mine as he buried himself inside me.

Jace.

I shuddered and squeezed my eyes shut, willing the memories away, but they didn’t leave. I could still feel him. The way he watched me, like I was the only thing in the room, the way he touched me like he had every right to, and the way his voice had wrapped around my throat like a velvet noose every time he called me sweetheart or babycakes or any of the other things he’d called me.

No. No. No.

I sat up too fast, and my head pounded in protest. A rush of nausea rolled through me, the aftermath of too much alcohol and even more regret.

I needed water. I needed coffee. I needed to pretend last night never happened.

Groaning, I covered my face, and that’s when I felt it—my bare skin.

I ripped my hands away and looked down at myself.

Shit.

I was completely naked under my covers.

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