Page 12 of Flag On The Play (Gridiron Warriors #5)

FINLAY

B est 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.

I park across the street from her building, kill the engine, and sit in silence for a minute.

This is either going to go incredibly well or crash and burn so hard it’ll leave shrapnel in my chest.

But I’ve played enough games to know when to take the shot. And I’m not walking away from this one.

The building door clicks open before I even buzz in. An older woman shuffling out with grocery bags. I hold the door, nod politely, and head up the two flights to her apartment. My pulse is loud in my ears. Not nerves. Just anticipation.

I knock twice and wait.

She opens the door wearing a pair of black shorts and an oversized tee that has the tiny bleach stain on the hem.

Her eyes narrow instantly. “Seriously?”

“That’s a hell of a greeting.”

“You show up at my apartment uninvited after we slept together like it didn’t mean anything, and you expect a parade?”

“I didn’t say it didn’t mean anything,” I fire back.

“You didn’t say anything, Finlay.” She crosses her arms over her chest, leaning a hip against the frame. “Not when I left. Not since. So, unless this is a booty call, which I can assure you will be one-sided, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here.”

God, she’s infuriating. And beautiful. And completely wrong.

“I had the best game of my career today.”

“Congratulations. I’m sure ESPN is thrilled.”

“You wanna know why?”

“Nope. Not really.”

“It’s you, Nova.”

She blinks. Stares at me like I’ve grown three heads. “Excuse me?”

“You were the difference. You. Us. Letting go of whatever’s been pent up between us all these years? I felt clear. Focused.”

She scoffs. “Okay, well, I’m glad sex with me cured all your issues. That’s definitely not emotionally complex or pressure-inducing at all.”

“Jesus, it’s not about just sex.”

“Right. You’re telling me one night with the girl you used to bully in high school fixed your career. Got it. I’ll start writing inspirational TED Talks about my magical vagina.”

“Nova.”

“No, really. Maybe we should bottle it. Sell it. Quarterback Gold. One Night to a Championship Season.”

“You done?” I ask, stepping closer.

She glares, lips twitching in that way they do when she’s about to either slap me or laugh. “I haven’t decided.”

I reach out and gently push the door wider. “Can I come in?”

She hesitates, torn. I see the war behind her eyes. Her gut wants to tell me to screw off. Her mouth is about to do it. But then, she steps back. Just an inch.

I take it as the invitation it is.

Inside, her place smells like vanilla and something slightly citrusy. It’s her. Messy in the corners, warm lighting, and a blanket tossed over the back of the couch like it’s always ready for a movie night.

I stop a few feet from her, trying not to devour her with my eyes.

“Nova, I know you don’t believe me, or maybe you don’t want to, but something happened between us. And I’m not talking about just hooking up. I’m talking about this. Whatever this is. It’s been years in the making, and I’m not about to walk away because you’re scared.”

She exhales slowly. “I’m not scared.”

“Bullshit. You’re terrified.”

Her mouth opens ready to fire, but then she closes it again.

Her gaze drops for half a second before snapping back up.

“I don’t want to be your good luck charm, Finlay.

I don’t want to be some weird performance booster that you latch onto until you’ve gotten what you want.

I want to matter or not be anything at all. ”

My chest tightens. “You already matter. You always mattered. Even when I was too young and stupid to understand why.”

Silence stretches between us. Heavy and uncertain.

She shakes her head slowly, voice quieter now. “You really wanna go all in on this, huh?”

I step close enough that we’re toe to toe, our bodies just not touching. “I’m not giving up on us before it even starts.”

“And if I push you away again?”

I smirk. “Then I’ll come back again. You should know by now, I don’t give up easily.”

Her eyes search mine, like she’s trying to find the lie in all of this.

And when she doesn’t find one, she finally whispers, “You’re exhausting, Reed.”

“You’re infuriating, Wilde.”

Then we both laugh, soft and breathless.

God, I love this fire between us.

And I’m not about to let it burn out now.

“You really think this is a good idea?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes locked on mine.

“No,” I admit. “But when have we ever done things the good way?”

That earns me a small eye roll, but she doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t move. So I take one slow step closer until our chests nearly brush. The heat between us pulses like a live wire.

“Tell me to stop,” I murmur.

She doesn’t. She won’t. Her breathing hitches instead, chest rising just enough that I feel it, even without touching her.

So I take her face gently in my hand, my thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.

“Still not stopping me,” I whisper.

“I hate how good you smell,” she mutters back.

I chuckle. “That’s not a real protest.”

“It’s all I’ve got right now.”

And then I kiss her.

It’s not fast. Not rough. But it’s deep. Slow. Like I’m taking my time memorizing her mouth. And when her hands fist the front of my hoodie and pull me tighter to her, I know I’ve completely lost the last shred of self-control I was clinging to.

She walks me backward until the back of my knees hit her couch, and I drop down. She follows, straddling my lap, her thighs hugging either side of my hips, same as the other night, only this time it’s different. Slower. Hotter. More dangerous.

Because this time, I know exactly what I’m getting into, and I can’t stop.

She grinds against me, and I swear to God, I’m in heaven.

Her hands slide into my hair, nails grazing my scalp, and I groan into her mouth.

She tastes like wine and stubbornness. Like everything I’ve been craving and everything I know I shouldn’t have.

Her lips move against mine with a need that matches the pounding in my chest. Her fingers twist in my hoodie as she grinds down against me, and my hands slip beneath that oversized shirt she’s wearing like a damn shield.

“No bra,” I murmur against her neck, my thumbs brushing the soft curves of her waist. “You really trying to kill me?”

She shivers, but that spark in her eyes? It’s not from fear.

“I thought you liked a little pain with your pleasure,” she throws back, breathless.

“You have no idea what I like.” My voice is low, ragged.

“Try me.”

I grip her hips, pressing her harder against me, and she lets out a soft gasp that makes my spine straighten like I’ve just won a game on the final drive. I want her. God, I need her.

But just as my hands move to tug that shirt up, ready to bare everything again, she suddenly pulls back.

Her palm flattens on my chest. Her breathing is shaky. Just like mine.

“Finlay,” she says quietly, “we can’t just keep doing this.”

My hands still.

“We’re not doing anything we both don’t want,” I say, trying to rein in the frustration clawing at the edges of my voice. “Don’t pretend this isn’t real.”

“I’m not,” she whispers. “That’s the problem.”

Her eyes meet mine, and for once, there’s no armor. No sarcasm. No venom. Just Nova.

“This thing between us? It’s intense. It’s physical. It’s addictive. But if we don’t figure out what it actually is, we’re going to crash and burn.”

I stare at her, heart pounding, blood still roaring through me in all the wrong directions. “You think I’m doing this just for sex?”

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” she says, her voice sharp. “One minute you’re grinning like the cocky asshole I hated in high school, and the next you’re looking at me like I hung the damn moon. It’s whiplash, Finlay.”

I blink, still trying to catch up. “Nova.”

“I mean it. This can’t happen again,” she says, her eyes flicking between mine, her chest rising and falling fast. “Not until we figure out what the hell this actually is.”

“Are you saying you want more?” I ask, quieter than I mean to.

She lets out a breath, frustration and hope tangling together in it. “I’m saying I need to know what this is before we fall back into bed. Before I let you in again like that.”

Her hands are still on my chest, but she’s not pulling away.

She’s waiting for something real.

And for the first time, I realize she’s not scared of sex. She’s scared of me. Of trusting me. Of being wrong about me again.

“I’m not just chasing you, Nova,” I say, my voice low, raw. “I’m not trying to win some game. You’re not a damn trophy. You’re…shit. You were the one girl I couldn’t forget.”

I don’t press. I let the moment sit.

“And you were the one boy I never let myself remember.” She exhales and climbs off my lap, tugging her shirt down. “I need time to think.”

I nod, adjusting myself because yeah, I’m still hard, but this matters more than getting off.

“Take it,” I say, standing too. “But just so we’re clear, this thing between us? It’s not going away. I’m not going away.”

She doesn’t reply. She just bites her lip, opens the door, and I walk out.

I lean against the wall in the hallway, running a hand through my hair, my heart still racing.

She never wanted to remember me, and now here I am.

And it’s not just about sex. Not just about winning her over or shutting her up with a kiss.

Now, it’s real.

And fuck, I’m all in and I have no idea if she is.