Page 38 of Flag On The Play
After, we lay tangled in silence. My head on his chest. His fingers brushing my hip like he doesn’t want to let go just yet.
And for one terrifying moment, I don’t want to let go either.
But I know I should.
Still, when he speaks, it’s not what I expect.
“That wasn’t just sex.”
I laugh, soft and bitter. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make it sound like it was something it wasn’t. We’re oil and water, Finlay.”
He sighs. “Then why does it feel like gasoline and a match every time I touch you?”
I don’t have an answer.
So, I kiss his chest and smile up at him. “Let’s just enjoy the moment, okay?”
He doesn’t answer.
I don’t say anything else.
He’s as confused as I am, and the only thing there is to do is enjoy how fucking epic it was, finally giving in to all the sexual tension.
CHAPTER 12
FINLAY
Best game of my entire career.
Every pass hit its mark. Every play felt effortless. It was the kind of game quarterbacks dream about, where the field slows down, instincts take over, and every damn thing clicks.
In the locker room, the energy is electric. Teammates are shouting, throwing towels, smacking backs. Reporters crowd the space, shoving recorders in my face, asking what changed, what clicked. Coach actually smiled, a rare sight that says more than words ever could.
But it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what the difference was tonight.
It’s Nova.
The tension I’ve been carrying, years of it, finally snapped. That night at the party with her in my arms, in bed, it was like releasing a pressure valve I didn’t even realize had been building so tight.
I’ve had sex. Plenty of it. But not like that. Not with her.
Because it wasn’t just about the physical, though yeah, every second of it was burned into my skin, it was something more.The way she argued with me, even while pulling me into that bedroom. The fire in her eyes. The vulnerability I caught glimpses of when she thought I wasn’t looking.
And even now, hours after the game of my fucking life, I can’t stop thinking about the sound she made when I whispered her name into her neck. How she melted against me. How perfect she looked tangled in the sheets the next morning, sunlight streaking across her bare back, my shirt hanging off one shoulder like some kind of cruel tease.
We didn’t talk that morning. She slipped out with a smart-ass comment and a wink like nothing happened. But I know better.
And I found out where she lives.
No more games.
She’s going to hear me out. She’s going to see that this is more than a rebound or a grudge-fueled hookup. This is years of pent-up want, crashing into something real. Something I’m not ready to walk away from.
Tonight, I’m going to her place. And I’m not leaving until she hears everything I’ve got to say.
