The Wrong Play (The Wrong Player, #2)

by C.R. Jane

My fingers drummed against the neck of my beer bottle as I took a sip, my gaze drifting to where Parker and Casey were tucked in a corner of the bar. She was laughing, pressed against his side, his arm curled around her waist like he’d rather die than let her go. It was disgusting. It was pathetic. It was everything I wanted.

She’d painted my number on her cheek—willingly or not, it didn’t matter—and I’d answered with her name on mine. Checkmate, baby llama.

“Stubborn little angel cake,” he muttered,

I rested my cheek against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his skin—clean, warm, so him—and let my eyes flutter shut. “I think I was always gonna end up here,” Jace murmured, his voice barely a whisper against my ear. “With you.”

Matty barked out a sound that was a cross between a dying cow and a moose. “You’re a psycho, Thatcher.”

My heart ached in the best way as I whispered, “Say it again.” His lips curled in the faintest, most heartbreakingly tender smile I’d ever seen. And he leaned in, his forehead pressing against mine, our breaths mingling…our souls stitched together in the silence. “Always.”