Page 85 of The Wrong Play

I smiled, small and shy, my heart overflowing, and nestled into him, my cheek against his chest, feeling the steady drumof his heartbeat—fast, wild,alive. This wasn’t just a moment; it waseverything. A collision of fate and fire, a quiet storm of something undeniable, something that made me feel seen,whole.

Later that night, as I listened to his quiet breaths, our limbs tangled in his bed, I had so many thoughts.

Sex with Callum had been a transaction. A carefully orchestrated game where I was always two steps behind, where I never quite knew the rules until it was too late. His touch had been firm but distant, rehearsed in a way that made it clear he was more interested in controlling me than in making me feel anything.

With Callum, I had been something to be handled. A possession, a trophy, a thing to be claimed rather than cherished. He had never once looked at me like I mattered, never once let me lead, never once given me space to breathe.

I never felt safe.

Even when I thought I wanted him, there had always been a hesitation. A wrongness pressing against my ribs, something dark curling in my gut. He made me feel small. Trapped. Powerless.

And I hated that, for so long, I had convinced myself that was just how it was supposed to be.

Because Jace?

He was everything Callum wasn’t.

Jace touched me like I was something holy. Like I was made of delicate, breakable things but strong enough to take whatever he gave me. His hands were rough but reverent, his mouth soft but insistent. He listened. He worshiped. He made me feel wanted, not owned.

And the biggest difference?

With Jace, I never felt afraid.

Not once. Not even when his grip tightened in my hair, not even when he pressed me into the mattress, not even when he kissed me so deeply I forgot my own name.

Because Jace didn’t just take—he gave.

Every touch was a question. A promise. A demand wrapped in devotion.

And for the first time, I understood.

It was never supposed to hurt.

It was never supposed to feel like a cage.

It was supposed to feel like…this.

CHAPTER 13

JACE

The ball cut through the crisp night air, spiraling perfectly as it came down toward me.

I tracked it effortlessly, the lights burning overhead, the roar of the empty field like a promise of what was coming. My fingers closed around the leather, the impact reverberating up my arms as I pulled it in and took off, juking past an imaginary defender before turning back and tossing the ball to Matty.

“Damn, you’re locked in today,” Matty called, shaking his head as he caught my pass.

I grinned, jogging back to the line of scrimmage. “Gotta be ready for Saturday,Matthew.”

“Yeah, but usually by the end of practice you’re coasting,” Parker muttered, stepping up beside me. He pushed his helmet back, eyeing me like I was a puzzle he hadn’t quite solved. “What’s wrong with you?”

Matty scoffed. “Riley’s probably avoiding him again.”

I wrinkled my nose, thinking it was probably too unhinged that I didn’t like him even saying her name.

Parker raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, that’s probably it.”

Matty shot me a smirk, one that quickly faded when I nodded my head to the silver car in the parking lot wherehisstalkerwas watching practice. Like usual.

---