Page 43 of The Wrong Play

His lips trailed down to my jaw,my neck.

“I’m all you’ve got,”he whispered. “No one will ever want you the way I do.No one will ever love you the way I do.”

I squeezed my eyes shut,trying to convince myself that I should feel grateful.

That Callum loved me.

That he was taking care of me.

That I was lucky.

Because like he said—who else would want me?

Sick.

Exhausting.

Naïve.

Too much to deal with.

He had told me so many times.

I felt the weight of him,the pressure,the power in his grip.

A tear slipped down my cheek,and when he pulled back,he smiled like he’d won something.

Like I was his,no matter what.

I jerked away from Jace’s touch like I’d been burned, my chest heaving as I tried to breathe past the sudden wave of panic.

I could feel his eyes on me, sharp and focused. He knew something was wrong.

I forced my gaze to the front of the room, gripping the edge of my desk until my knuckles turned white, willing the memory away, willing the panic down.

Breathe.

Just breathe.

By the time class ended, my pulse had finally slowed to something almost normal.

But my decision had already been made.

I needed to stay away from Jace Thatcher.

As the students around us started gathering their things, Jace leaned toward me again, completely at ease.

“What just happened, Riley-girl?”

I stood up fast, clutching my bag against my chest like it was a shield.

“I don’t know what you’re up to,” I said, my voice steady despite the lingering panic in my veins.

Jace arched a brow, the corner of his lips tugging up like he found me amusing. “Up to?”

I swallowed.

“You transferred into this class. You’re following me around. You—” I gestured vaguely, my fingers curling into fists. “I’m not interested.”

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