Page 5 of Sacked by the Quarterback (The Locker Room Playbooks #1)
“Bree?”
Jax stroked a hand down the back of my head, raking through my wavy, dark hair until my spine was liquid. After not nearly long enough, he placed a mug down in front of me and sat in his spot across the oak kitchen table with a steaming mug of his own. Then he blushed and began to shred a napkin. I cocked an eyebrow. Whatever it was, this was going to be good.
Since he so clearly needed a moment to gather his thoughts, I took a swig of hot coffee and finished typing an appointment in my phone’s calendar app, eyes flicking to our weekly Friday night date. I’d started marking it with an eggplant emoji years ago, and I smiled at the silly—and sexy—reminder. Then I put my phone down to give him, and the coffee, my full attention.
“What’s on your mind?” I scooted forward and met his gaze.
“Remember…remember our conversation a few months ago?”
Did I ever . Prompted by a friend’s shocking affair, we’d spent an entire evening, and more wine than I cared to admit, confessing our deepest fantasies to each other. Even though we’d been married a decade, apparently we hadn’t even scratched the surface—but when you bind yourself to someone for forever , no one outright tells you that neither of you are mind-readers and you need to talk about that shit.
“Uh huh,” I said neutrally and sipped my drink. I watched him under my downcast eyelashes as he psyched himself up to continue. If possible, he was even more handsome than when we first got together. Fuck our twenties. Mid-thirties looked better and better.
An email notification chirped on my phone; I silenced it and tossed it onto the third chair. Jax would always come first.
“Would you be up for doing something a little different for date night this week?” he asked.
We’d done everything from the classic dinner-and-a-movie to escape rooms and axe throwing. “Sure. Have something in mind?”
Jax met my eyes over his coffee cup. “When you went for your physical last month, did they send you a copy of your STI test?”
Huh?
If his goal was to keep me off-balance, he was knocking it out of the park. “Yeah. All negative, of course.” I tilted my head, curiosity officially piqued. “Jax, what’s this?—”
“Bree—were you serious about doing some of what we discussed?”
My mouth went dry, the list replaying in my mind in all its taboo glory. Nothing we’d talked about that evening was off-limits, at least with some serious discussion first. But some fantasies…
Game on.
I took his hand and squeezed. “Only if it’s together. And safe.”
“Good. I was hoping we were still on the same page,” he said. “Because I might— might —have found a way to make one of yours—and mine—come true.”
“What?” My heart thundered so hard I was afraid it would crack my ribs open. “Which one?” Anticipation of the unknown racked me with shivers.
Jax shook his head. “Nothing’s final. But…” He got up and pulled an unassuming manila folder off the counter and set it in front of me. The chair creaked as he sat again. “I needed to make sure you were fully on board.”
Jax opened the folder and tapped a blank line next to one he’d already signed. “Your signature.” He licked his lips. “Do you trust me?”
He was earnest, honest, and, most importantly, mine.
My answer came as easy as breathing. “With my life.”
With how quickly I moved the pen, I was surprised my signature didn’t catch the paper on fire.
Some husbands surprised their wives with flowers.
Some husbands surprised their wives with chocolate.
Some husbands, apparently, surprised their wives with a night of exploring their deepest fantasies together.
Fuck, am I lucky .