The Wrong Play (The Wrong Player, #2)

by C.R. Jane

Jace’s fingers splayed wide against my back, tracing gentle, lazy circles over my hoodie, like he was mapping me out, memorizing every inch he could touch. It wasn’t just holding—he was keeping me, his hands possessive but so tender it made my chest ache.

“Loving you isn’t some fucking chore. It’s not a weight around my neck, not something I have to suffer through. You think you’re hard to love, but you don’t get it. You don’t understand that loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Every breath I take, I want you to be part of it. Every time I move, I want to feel you with me. I don’t want you on my arm where it’ll fade in the sun. I don’t want you on my back where I’ll never see it. I want you here, Riley. Where you can’t be ignored. Where you can’t be erased.”

“But you don’t have to survive me. You just have to love me.”