Page 73 of The Wrong Play

I didn’t want to.

Because I had spent the entire night trying to convince myself that I did. That I wanted Danny, that I wanted normal, that I wanted any of this to make sense.

But Jace saw through it. Through me.

He pulled back, just enough to make me feel the loss; his eyes locked onto mine in the dim glow of the streetlights coming in through the windows. “Say it, babycakes,” he murmured, his tone like silk wrapped around steel. “Say you didn’t want him. Say you wantedmeinstead.”

I swallowed hard, shaking my head. “Jace?—”

“Say it.” His fingers tightened, his hips pressing forward just enough to tease, enough to drive me insane. “Or I stop.”

A whimper slipped out before I could catch it. The threat was real—Jace Thatcher never bluffed. And my body? My body wasn’t built to be deprived of him.

I clenched my jaw, hating how much control he had over me. Hating that I had spent all this time running, denying what had been so painfully obvious.

I inhaled shakily, my resolve splintering beneath the intensity in his gaze. “I didn’t want to be there with him.” My voice was a whisper, barely audible over our strained breaths, but it was enough.

Jace’s smirk was slow, triumphant. “That’s my girl.”

And then he was moving again, pushing deep, stealing my next breath as his lips crashed into mine.

But he wasn’t finished.

His mouth trailed to my ear, his voice low and devastating. “Did you think about me while you were with him?”

I stiffened. Heat bloomed up my neck, pooling between my thighs, because—fuck. Of course, I had. I had spent every second of that stupid date comparing Danny to Jace, every word, every smile, every insignificant moment failing to match the way Jace made me feel with just a look.

Silence stretched between us, but Jace wasn’t letting me get away with it. His hand slid down my thigh, slow, teasing, until he was gripping my knee, pushing it higher, opening me wider.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured, his voice a taunt, thick with satisfaction.

I clenched around him involuntarily, my body betraying me, and he groaned, his forehead dropping to mine. “Fuck, Riley,” he whispered, voice unraveling. “You’re just as addicted to this as I am.”

He wasn’t wrong.

I just wasn’t sure I’d survive admitting it.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growled, his voice breaking as he moved, pulling back slow, then slamming in hard, deep, each stroke a claim that rattled the Jeep, the suspension creaking under us. His hands gripped my hips tighter, fingers bruising, angling me to take him deeper, and I moaned, loud and unfiltered, my body rocking with his rhythm. “You’re mine—say it, Riley.”

I shook my head, defiant even as my body surrendered, my hips bucking to meet him. “Make me,” I gasped, my voice a challenge, and his grin turned savage, his thrusts picking up, relentless, the leather slick with our sweat, the air thick with the scent of sex—musk, salt, and that faint pine scent.

“You should know it’s a bad idea to challenge me,” he snarled, one hand sliding between us, his fingers easily finding my clit, rubbing fast and rough, circling with a precision that made my vision blur. “I always win.”

I shattered, my orgasm ripping through me, sharp and blinding as a scream tore from my throat. It bounced off the windows as my body clenched around him, pulsing, trembling.

He didn’t stop. He kept thrusting, dragging it out, his fingers relentless, pushing me through the waves until I was a shaking, oversensitive, mess…gasping his name like a prayer.

“Jace—please—” I whimpered, my hands fisting his hair, pulling hard, strands tangling in my fingers as I tried to ground myself. But he just growled, his mouth crashing into mine as he kissed me deep and messy, all teeth and tongue. He tasted like salt and sin, his lips bruising mine, swallowing my moans as he fucked me harder, the Jeep rocking with every slam of his hips.

“I’m not done,” he muttered against my mouth, pulling out suddenly, leaving me empty and aching. I whined, a needy sound I’d never admit to, but before I could protest, he flipped me over, his hands gripping my hips as he yanked me onto my knees. My palms slapped the leather as he positioned me, ass up, face down, and I felt the heat of him behind me, his cock brushing my thighs as he teased me once again.

“Yes…” I cried, as he thrust in, hard and deep, filling me from behind, and I screamed, the angle hitting something inside me that made my whole body quake. His hands slid up my back, rough and possessive, one tangling in my hair, pulling my head back as he pounded into me, relentless, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the tight space.

“You’re mine,” he growled in a hoarse voice, his free hand snaking around to my front so he could cup my breast. Jace pinched my nipple hard enough to make me cry out again. “Say it, Riley. Fucking say it.”

“No,” I gasped defiantly, pushing back against him, meeting every thrust, even though my body was trembling and slick with sweat, one knee on the seat, one foot on the ground as he pushed into me. He laughed, dark and wild, his hand sliding down, his fingers finding my clit again. He rubbed slowly this time, teasing, dragging me to the edge without letting me fall.

“Stubborn little angel cake,” he muttered, his mouth on my shoulder, biting down, sucking a mark that would bruise by morning. “I’ll make you scream it. I’ll fuck you until you can’t remember his name.” His thrusts slowed, deliberate now, each one rocking me forward, my hands slipping on the leather, grasping for anything to hold.

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