Page 77 of The Wrong Play

“C’mon—one tailgate.” He took a sip of his drink, cold foam catching on his full Iip and somehow I caught my tongue licking along my own lip, like it was practicing to trace his. Jace’s gaze grew hungry as he watched me, and I was annoyed about how achingly hot he was.

Worthless.Weak.No one could love you but me.

Callum’s words stomped through my head reminding me…you couldn’t risk your heart on a man who shone like the sun…when you were justash.

Jace didn’t move away from the counter. He just continued to sip his frilly drink, watching me like he’d already mapped every crack in my armor.

“Do you need something else?” I said, fiddling with my apron while trying to look everywhere but him.

“You’re making this very difficult, Riley St. James, aka Riley Thatcher, aka buttercup.” He set the cup down with an exaggerated sigh that made my lips twitch despite myself. “And you’ve left me with no choice.”

Before I could react, he hoisted himself onto the counter—a full sprawl, his legs dangling, his arms behind his head like he was lounging on a picnic blanket. My jaw dropped as his legs draped around the cookie containers, all while he grinned at me like some kind of lovesick fool. To make it even more outrageous…his abs were flashing—six ridges of tanned, sculpted muscle that seemed to gleam under the fluorescent lights like this was a commercial, and he’d just been oiled up. I stared.

Because how could I not?

Lust coiled in my belly, hot and unbidden. One thing I hadn’t done…taste those abs. I was suddenly desperate to trace all that skin with my tongue.

Why did he have to look like he’d been carved from every fantasy I’d ever had?

Jace took his sweet time lowering his arms, letting the shirt drape slowly back down, smirking like he knew exactly what he’d done to me by that little flash of skin. Customers seated at the tables froze, the guy that had been standing behind him actually had to lean over Jace’s body to order a flat white, glaring at me like this was my mess.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, my voice cracking as my eyes lingered on where his abs had been, my heart a frantic jumble. Jen, my boss, peeked out from the back…and then shrugged, like it was no big deal.

Someone needed to have a discussion with the student body at this school and let them know that football players weren’t actually gods.

I peeked back at the sliver of skin showing as Jace stretched out some more.

Okay…maybehewas a god. But this was unsanitary, at the very least.

“I’m staging a lay-in, baby doll,” he said, shifting like he was trying to get comfy, his voice all flirty velvet. “A la sixties vibes, Riley-style. I’m not moving until you say yes. Call it a protest against your stubborn streak, or a show for my favorite barista. Take your pick.”

“You’re insane,” I said for what must have been the millionth time since I’d met him, but my voice faltered, a laugh slipping free as my chest ached with want. My cheeks were burning from the fact that everyone in the store was staring at me. A woman reached over his legs for sugar, and I rubbed my temples, unsure of what to do.

I’d just ignore him. He couldn’t stay here forever.

Right?

I began wiping the counters…around his body, refilling sugars, grabbing milk…leaning over him for lids—all while he stayed here, watching me with that grin.

Fifteen minutes stretched like a lifetime, and unfortunately, my resolve started splintering at the seams.

“Move, asshole,” a guy demanded. Jace just winked.

A woman muttered, reaching over his legs for creamer; another glared as she ordered a chai tea, forcing me to stretch across his stupid abs again.

I finally snapped and threw my rag down.

“Fine—one party…or tailgate…or whatever it’s called. I’ll show up alone. No picking me up. No…nothing crazy…or Ileave,” I told him, trying to ignore the butterflies going off in my stomach as we locked eyes.

A slow, sexy,victorioussmile slid across his lips before he moved off the counter, his abs flexing again as his shirt came up, like somehow he was doing it on purpose. He leaned toward me, his eyes blazing like I’d handed him my soul. “Deal, Mrs. Thatcher,” he said, brushing off his jeans with a flourish. “You won’t regret this, Riley-girl. It’s going to be the best night of your life.”

“Doubtful,” I muttered, but my voice softened, and he caught it—his grin turning sweeter, melting me further. He tossed a twenty on the counter. “For the drink and the eye candy.” And sauntered out, leaving me staring after him, my chest a tangle of irritation and…yearning.

Fuck.

It kind of felt like I was falling.

CHAPTER 12

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