Page 41 of The Wrong Play

He turned his head, tracking my every move with that knowing smirk. “I’ll take that as a maybe.”

I dropped into my chair, gritting my teeth. “You’re joking, right?”

Jace winked, sliding effortlessly into the now empty seat beside me. “Sure, Riley. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

I was about to come up with a scathing retort—maybe even make another escape attempt—but before I could, the professor walked in, effectively trapping me in place.

Jace leaned back in his chair, all smug satisfaction, like he’d just won some kind of game.

I let out a breath, wishing I had something on under this sweatshirt because I was suddenly boiling. I tried to focus on the professor as he set down his books and started rambling about the foundations of moral philosophy.

I was determined to pay attention.

But Jace?

Jace had other plans.

Halfway through the lecture, I felt it—his fingers brushing against the back of my arm.

I froze, resisting the urge to whip my head around. The contact was light, barely there, but it sent a rush through my entire body. I clenched my jaw, staring straight ahead, trying to pretend like I wasn’t hyperaware of him.

Then his fingers traced down, skating over my elbow. I shivered, my entire body going rigid.

I heard him exhale a quiet laugh, and I decided right then and there that I hated him.

All right, that might have been a lie, but I at leasthatedthat my body was reacting. Even through my freaking sweatshirt.

It was official. I was swearing off men. All men.

I tried to ignore him and focus on the lecture. It didn’t work.

His touch was slow, teasing, like he had all the time in the world to drive me insane.

Every time he touched me, my stomach tightened, and my breath hitched. I was utterly unprepared for him.

The attention. The heat. The way he leaned in close, his breath warm against my skin, like he was waiting for me to do something—anything—to acknowledge what was happeningbetween us. How it seemed like he wasn’t just looking at me…butseeingme.

I didn’t know how to handle that.

His touch lingered, soft yet possessive, like he had every right to touch me.

I swallowed hard, keeping my eyes glued to the professor, but I wasn’t hearing a single word being said.

I shifted in my chair, trying to put a few inches of space between us, but the moment I moved, Jace chuckled under his breath.

“Where you goin’, babycakes?”

My pulse spiked. “Nowhere.”

“Sure about that?” He held something up between his fingers, the glow of the screen catching my eye. My phone.

I stiffened. “Jace.”

“Riley.” His lips quirked like he was enjoying this far too much.

I snatched it from his grip, my fingers brushing against his, and I swore I heard the sharp exhale he let out at the contact.

I glanced at my screen. The message app was still open. A new number was already saved underHottie of my Body.

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