Page 21 of Flag On The Play (Gridiron Warriors #5)

NOVA

T he stadium is buzzing with electric energy and late-season tension. Fans are on their feet, jerseys everywhere, and the scent of popcorn and overcooked hot dogs hangs in the air. I clutch my soda and yell louder than I ever thought possible when Finlay’s number comes into view on the field.

“He looks damn good in those pants,” Roxy mutters beside me, elbowing me with a wicked grin. “I mean, I know he’s yours, Nova, but credit where credit’s due.”

“Do you even know what position he plays?” Delaney teases, raising an eyebrow.

Roxy scoffs. “Hot. That’s his position. Very, very hot.”

I roll my eyes, laughing. “You two are idiots.”

Finlay’s mom, Emma, laughs from her seat next to me, clutching her scarf a little tighter around her shoulders. “You’ve got wonderful friends, Nova. They make the game more fun.”

“I try,” Roxy says, throwing Emma a wink.

“Don’t encourage her,” I murmur playfully, and Emma chuckles again.

We quiet down a little as the play clock resets. Finlay jogs onto the field, and my stomach does that wild flutter it always does when I see him in his zone. Focused. Confident. Like he was made for this.

I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until the whistle blows and he makes a pass that’s so clean, so precise, it has the whole stadium roaring. Another first down. He points to the stands briefly, and I swear his eyes find mine for a split second.

Emma leans closer, her voice soft, almost lost in the cheering. “You’re exactly what he needs, Nova.”

I glance over, surprised by the tenderness in her voice. She’s not looking at the field anymore. She’s looking at me.

“When my husband was sick,” she continues, “we talked a lot. About life. About Finlay. And about you.”

My heart stutters. “Me?”

She nods. “After you visited him. He told me Finlay never should’ve let your friendship fade. He said he could see it, back when you were just kids. You were the girl Finlay belonged with.”

Emotion clamps down hard on my throat. “He said that?”

Emma reaches out and places her hand gently on mine. “He did. And he was right. I see the way my son looks at you, Nova. It’s different. It’s full. You brought him back to life.”

I blink fast, trying to keep the tears from spilling. “Those years when we lived next door they were some of the best memories I have. I’m so grateful for them.”

“I’m grateful too,” she says quietly.

I smile, my lips trembling. “I love your son.”

She squeezes my hand. “I know.”

Just then, the crowd erupts louder than before, and we all whip our heads toward the field. Jace is tearing down the sideline, cleats kicking up turf. He dodges one tackle, then another, and then he’s gone.

“Come on!” Roxy shouts, jumping to her feet.

Delaney grabs my arm as we rise, the stadium a wave of roaring fans.

Jace crosses into the end zone like a lightning bolt.

Touchdown.

Game over.

Nighthawks win.

Everyone around us loses it, but my eyes go straight to Finlay, arms raised in victory, teammates piling on Jace, and then, just for a second, his head turns toward the stands again. Our eyes lock. The smile he gives me is everything.

And I know, without a doubt, that he’s mine.

And I’m his.

So when he exits the stadium and tells me we’re joining the team to celebrate, I don’t argue.

The bass is thumping, vibrating through the floor and up my legs as we walk into the packed club. Neon lights flicker overhead, strobes casting flashes of color over the swarm of dancing bodies. The victory energy from the game hasn’t died, it’s only gotten louder.

Finlay’s hand is securely around my waist, his touch warm and possessive. He leans down to whisper in my ear, lips brushing my skin. “You look so damn good tonight.”

I smile, tilting my head so our eyes meet. “You’re just saying that because you won.”

He grins, those perfect eyes shining. “Nope. Winning just gives me the excuse to show you off.”

“Show me off, huh?” I tease, leaning into him. “You planning on making all your teammates jealous?”

His hand slides lower, giving my hip a squeeze. “Already did.”

“Ew,” Roxy calls out behind us. “Keep it in your pants, Quarterback.”

Finlay just laughs, pulling me closer as we make our way through the crowd toward the VIP section the team had reserved.

Jace is already there, surrounded by a mix of teammates and girls, nursing a drink with that smug, cocky grin he always wears when he scores a touchdown.

He spots us and lifts his glass in our direction.

“Wilde!” he calls out. “Our lucky charm!”

“I’ll take full credit for the win, obviously,” I reply with a laugh, slipping onto a couch beside Finlay.

Delaney and Roxy grab drinks from the tray a waitress sets down, and we all toast to the win.

“To Jace’s miracle run!” Roxy yells.

“To Finlay’s arm!” Delaney adds.

“To Nova’s thighs,” Finlay says under his breath, just for me.

I choke on my sip, smacking his chest playfully as the girls burst into laughter.

“God, you’re such a guy,” I mutter, shaking my head.

“And you love it.”

He’s not wrong.

The night blurs into warmth and music and laughter.

Roxy ends up on the dance floor with two linebackers, holding her own like the wild woman she is.

Delaney hangs back at the table, sipping her cocktail and bobbing her head to the beat while chatting with Theo, who keeps inching a little closer every time she smiles.

I stay curled up next to Finlay, both of us relaxed and happy. At one point, he tugs me onto his lap, and we just sit there, arms around each other, like the whole world melted away outside this moment.

“You’re glowing,” he says into my neck.

“I’m tipsy,” I reply, giggling.

“No,” he says, pulling back to look at me. “You’re happy. And it makes me feel like I won something way more important than a game tonight.”

My heart squeezes.

“You’re the real win, Wilde.”

And right there, surrounded by music and friends and the celebration of his victory, I realize he’s right. I am happy. I feel it in my soul.

And it’s thanks to Finlay.

It’s also thanks to him that I’m getting more turned on the longer I sit on his lap.

“You know, this would be a lot more fun if we were alone,” I whisper, kissing his neck.

His hands squeeze my ass as he pushes his hard dick against my now painful pussy.

“Say no more,” he says, standing with me in his arms.

“I’m pretty sure she knows how to walk, Reed,” Jace says, laughing.

Finlay doesn’t say anything, just continues to walk toward the bathroom.

“Wait, what are you doing?” I ask, looking around.

He pushes through the bathroom door and places me down as he quickly checks to make sure we are alone. He locks the door and turns to me with that cocky smirk of his that does something completely different to me now.

“My girl wants to be alone, so I’m giving her what she wants.” He steps in front of me and roughly sinks his fingers into my hair as his eyes bounce between mine. “What we both want.”

His lips crash to mine, and I moan, unable to control how he makes me feel.

He breaks the kiss and spins me around, facing the mirror, and our eyes collide. My body is burning with need, and he doesn’t waste a second giving me what I need.

He reaches under my dress and roughly pulls off my panties, shoving them in his pocket.

“Lean over and grab the edge of the sink, Nova,” he growls, unbuckling his jeans.

I do as he asks, and by the time I look at him through the mirror, I see him rolling on a condom. Before I can even process it, he slams into me, causing me to scream out in both pleasure and relief.

This isn’t slow and romantic.

It’s hard, rough, and erotic.

He’s driving into me so hard that I quickly understand why he told me to hold on. My eyes drift closed as my body is overcome with fire.

“Open your eyes, Nova. I want to see you when you come undone, and I want you to watch me as I get you there.”

His deep, rough voice in his demanding tone nearly sends me over the edge.

I moan as my grip tightens on the sink while he slams into me over and over.

His fingers are digging into my hips, surely leaving me bruised.

His solid chest pressed against my back.

His warm breath is blowing against my neck.

His dark eyes locked with mine through the mirror.

I’ve never felt like this before. Never had this connection. Never wanted someone so badly that it physically hurts. Never allowed my heart to be involved.

And it’s so much more than I ever imagined.

Finlay bites down on my neck as he reaches between us and rubs my clit.

“Fuck!”

I see stars as my body begins to fall. It crashes over me like an unexpected tidal wave.

“Finlay, oh God,” I moan as wave after wave washes over me, never once looking away from his eyes in the mirror.

“Fuck, Nova. Your tight pussy is squeezing me hard. I’m not going to last,” he groans, holding my hips tighter.

I’m still floating from my orgasm as I lick my lips and my eyes bounce between his. “Let go, Finlay.”

He explodes as he moans my name, and it echoes around the empty bathroom.

He spins me around and crashes his lips to mine.

“Damn, that was incredible, baby,” he says, resting his forehead to mine.

“Hot bathroom sex. Who would’ve thought?”

The cold night air bites at my skin as I walk out of Heaven’s Edge, muscles sore and makeup smudged from the long shift.

My feet ache from dancing two sets, and the private VIP request had drained the last of my energy.

I’m beyond done. All I want is to get home, take a long, hot shower, and hear Finlay’s voice before he leaves for Texas in the morning.

The streets are quiet this late, my car a comforting sight under the streetlamp.

By the time I reach my apartment, I’m already tugging off my jacket, craving comfort.

The moment the front door closes behind me, I head straight to the bathroom.

The shower is hot, a welcome relief washing away glitter, sweat, and the weight of the night.

I slip into my favorite gray sweats and Finlay’s hoodie that’s much too big. It still smells like his cologne and skin and comfort. I curl up on the couch with my damp hair twisted in a messy bun, phone in hand, ready to call him.

But the second the screen lights up, my breath catches.

Six missed calls. Nine unread messages.

All from Roxy and Delaney.

My stomach flips, a low hum of anxiety crawling up my spine.

I open Roxy’s first.

Babe. You need to see this.

Attached: Link to an article

FLAG ON THE PLAY: Quarterback’s New Plaything?

I tap the link. The headline hits me like a punch to the gut.

FLAG ON THE PLAY: Talented, Popular Quarterback of the New York Nighthawks Is Slumming It with a Stripper. We Call Foul.

My heart stops.

Right there, splashed across the page in bright, bold letters, and below it, a photo. Me siitting on Finlay’s lap at the club after the game. My head resting on his shoulder. His arm around me. We look happy.

And apparently, that’s unacceptable.

The words blur, but phrases stick out like poison-tipped daggers.

“He could have anyone, so why her?”

“Seduction at it’s finest .”

“It’s not love. It’s lust in the limelight.”

“Reputation suicide for a man with a clean image.”

“Nova Wilde is Lux. A stripper or a hooker?”

I can’t breathe.

My fingers tremble around the phone as shame and rage coil together in my chest. The heat rises in my face, fury burning behind my eyes.

They called me a whore.

They made me a punchline. A stain on his career.

I don’t stop to think. I don’t call Delaney or Roxy. I grab my keys and leave.

I barely remember the drive to Finlay’s penthouse. Everything is buzzing in my head like a fire alarm I can’t shut off. My emotions are pinging in every direction. Rage, humiliation, heartbreak.

By the time I’m banging on his door, I’m shaking.

He opens it fast, his face lighting up when he sees me, until he sees the storm in my eyes.

“Nova?”

I shove the phone into his chest. “Read it.”

His eyes flicker down to the screen. His jaw tightens.

He scrolls. Silent.

I wait for the anger. The disbelief. The protectiveness.

But instead, all I get is a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I guess I’m just surprised it took this long.”

I blink.

I step back. “That’s it?”

He looks up, confused. “Nova.”

“That’s all you have to say?” My voice is rising, cracking. “They just slut-shamed me in front of the entire country, and your reaction is that?”

“You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

A sharp, broken laugh leaves my throat. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I being dramatic about being labeled a whore in the national media?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s a trashy gossip site. People will forget it in a week.”

“I won’t forget it,” I snap. “My mom might read that. My landlord. People I care about. People who don’t know me.”

His tone hardens a little. “Nova, this is what happens when you're in the spotlight. You can’t let it own you.”

“I’m not you, Finlay,” I shout. “I didn’t sign up for press, or cameras, or to have my entire existence reduced to a headline because I have a job that people like to judge.”

He exhales slowly. “So quit.”

The words hit me like a slap.

I freeze. “What?”

“Quit,” he repeats. “Come live here. You don’t have to dance anymore. You hate it half the time anyway.”

My heart cracks.

“That’s your solution?” I whisper. “I give up my job, my independence, and you hide away the whore in your penthouse?”

His face falls. “That’s not what I meant.”

I step back. My voice is trembling now. “But it’s what it feels like. Like you’d rather erase that part of me than stand next to me through it.”

“Nova, that’s not fair…”

“No,” I cut him off, storming toward the door. “What’s not fair is being treated like this for being with someone I love. What’s not fair is you standing there with that blank expression while I’m drowning in humiliation.”

I pull the door open.

“Nova, please, just stop,” he says, stepping forward.

I turn around, one tear sliding down my cheek.

“I expected more from you, Finlay. So much more.”

And then I leave.