Page 84 of The Wrong Play

We pulled up to the house he’d told me he shared with Matty, a small place off-campus with a porch light flickering. Jace turned off the engine and looked at me with a soft smile. “C’mon,” he said in a gentle voice, and I followed him inside, my steps echoing across the floor as he flicked on a lamp, casting a warm glow over the living room.

My eyes widened when I saw the room. I’d been expecting some grimy jock crash pad, maybe a futon and a pile of beer cans. But it was way nicer than I’d pictured. The living room stretched out, sleek hardwood and plush vibes—a big leather couch, a glass coffee table gleaming under a soft lamp, and a shelf lined with shiny football trophies that caught the light just right. A huge flat-screen hung on the wall, and the air smelled faintly of cedar, warm and inviting, like it was actually lived-in, not just a pit stop.

Jace tossed his keys onto a polished side table with a clink, then turned to me, his hands shoved in his pockets, looking almost…shy? Like he wasn’t sure how to play this now that we were here. “How are you feeling?” he asked, stepping closer, his brown eyes locking on mine, searching, like he was looking for some sign from me. “It’s late. I can drive you back if?—”

“No,” I said, too quick, my voice soft but firm, surprising even me. I swallowed, my hands fidgeting at my sides. “I want to stay. With you.”

His brows lifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, then that grin crept back, slow and warm. “Yeah?” he said, stepping closer still, until I could feel the heat of him again, that pine-and-Jace scent wrapping around me.

We stumbled down the hall, a tangle of limbs and quiet laughs, my hoodie slipping to the floor as we made it inside a bedroom. I didn’t even bother to look around—didn’t care about the walls, the furniture, the shadows cast by the dim light spilling in from the hall. My focus was all on him, on Jace, his golden hair mussed from my fingers, his brown eyes catching mine with that warm, steady glow that made my heart skip. He sat down on a king-sized bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and tugged me onto his lap, his hands finding me like they always did—curling around my hips, sliding up my back, and threading through my hair.

I felt alive, electric, the buzz of the beer I’d sipped at the bonfire sharpening into something bright and clear, like the night had peeled back every layer until it was just us, raw and real.

His touch was everywhere, in his warm palms pressing into my spine, his fingers brushing the bare skin where my shirt had ridden up, tangling gently in my ponytail.

I couldn’t get enough, I couldn’t stop the way my breath hitched, the way my hands pressed against his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. I pulled back, breathless, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the faint stubble prickling my skin, and I looked at him, really looked, seeing the flush on his cheeks, the way his lips parted, soft and waiting. My chest fluttered, a wild, nervous beat, and I slid off his lap, slow and deliberate, kneeling between his legs, my hands resting on his thighs, the denim rough under my palms.

“Riley—” he started, his hands reaching for me, hovering like he wasn’t sure if he should pull me back or let me go. His eyeswidened, a flicker of worry cutting through the heat, but I shook my head, my decision settling firm and warm in my chest, a quiet certainty I hadn’t felt in so long.

“I want to,” I said, looking up at him, my voice steady despite the flutter in my stomach. His jeans were tight, the outline of him hard and obvious against the fabric, and I reached for his belt, my fingers trembling but sure, the metal cool against my touch.

This wasn’t just impulse—it was more, something I’d been turning over in my head all night, maybe longer. I wanted to show him, really show him, how much he meant, how much I liked him—how much I liked the way he made me feel seen, safe,wanted.

With Callum, this had been a chore, a demand I’d hated, something I’d dreaded every time his voice turned harsh, his hands too heavy. I’d always felt small after, hollowed out, like I’d given up a piece of myself I couldn’t get back.

But with Jace? I wanted to give him this—not because he asked, not because I had to, but because Ichoseit, because it felt right, like a gift I could wrap around him, something tender and mine to offer.

“You’re drunk,” Jace murmured, catching my wrists, his voice uneven as his thumbs brushed my pulse points, gentle but firm. His eyes searched mine, wide and worried, his breath shallow like he was fighting himself. “Babycakes, you don’t have to?—”

“I’m not,” I cut in, shaking my head, my voice soft but fierce. “I feel more alive, morealert, than I ever have.” I met his gaze, unwavering, my heart pounding with something bold, something new. “I want this. With you.”

He stared at me, his grip loosening, and then he exhaled, a shaky, awed sound, his hands falling to his sides. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice raw, and I smiled—a small, real smile—before unbuckling his belt, sliding it free, my fingers brushing the heat of his skin as I unzipped his jeans.

“Get on your knees.”Callum’s voice echoed in my head, but I blinked him away, the warmth of Jace’s bedroom flooding back, his brown eyes locked on mine—soft, reverent, nothing like Callum’s.

This was different. This wasmechoosing,metaking, and it felt like light breaking through a crack I’d forgotten was there.

He lifted his hips, and I tugged his jeans down, his briefs next, and he sprang free—thick, hard…huge. The sight of him sent a shiver through me. It wasn’t fear, though, it waswant. I leaned in, my hands moving up his thighs, feeling the muscle tense under my touch as I pressed a soft kiss to the tip, tasting the drop of salt and heat already beading from his slit.

Jace groaned, low and deep, his head tipping back as his hands fisted the comforter. “Riley—” he breathed, my name a prayer on his lips, and I smiled against his skin, my heart swelling with something powerful…something mine.

I took some of him into my mouth, slow and deliberate, my tongue tracing his length, learning him, savoring the way he shuddered, the way his breath hitched with every move I made. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t forced. It was tender, intentional…a gift I wanted to give.

His hands hovered, like he didn’t know where to put them, and then they settled in my hair. He didn’t push, he just rested them there, his fingers threading gently through the strands.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he rasped in a breaking voice. I glanced up, meeting his eyes—wide, awestruck, glowing with something that made my chest ache. I moved faster, my lips sliding over him, my hand wrapping around the base, stroking in time with my mouth, and he moaned, a raw, beautiful sound that sent a thrill racing through me.

I felt strong, alive, every shudder of his body a testament to my choice, my power. This wasn’t Callum’s cold demand—this was Jace, open and vulnerable, giving himself to me as much as I was giving to him. I swirled my tongue, teasing the sensitive spot beneath the tip, and his hips jerked, a choked “Riley” spilling out, his voice thick with wonder. I hummed softly, the vibration making him gasp, his fingers tightening in my hair just enough to feel real, to feel connected.

Time blurred, the room fading to just us. The soft creak of the bed, the ragged rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of him against my lips.

I took him deeper, my throat relaxing, my hands steady, and he trembled, his control fraying, his moans growing louder, more desperate. “Riley—I’m—” he warned in a strained voice, but I didn’t pull back, didn’t stop, wanting him to feel it, to know this was mine to give.

He came with a groan, loud and shattering, his body arching, his hands clutching my hair as he pulsed against my tongue, hot and overwhelming. I stayed with him, swallowing every drop of his cum, my heart feeling like it was glowing inside me until he stilled, his chest heaving as his fingers caressed my jaw. I pulled back slowly, wiping my lips with the back of my hand as I looked up at him.

My breath was uneven, my cheeks were warm.

Jace stared down at me, his eyes wide and glassy, his mouth parted like he couldn’t find words. “Riley,” he finally said hoarsely, reverently, and he reached for me, pulling me up into his lap, his arms wrapping tight around me. “Holy shit, babycakes,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to mine, his hands trembling as they cupped my face. “You’re…you’re incredible.”

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