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When I first learned that my husband was a member of a sex club, I pictured people having sex in every room. Maybe even out in front of the place.

To my surprise, that’s not at all what this is.

It’s a mansion built into the foothills of some mountain. It stands by itself in the desert, and it’s both elegant and imposing. Except for the house lights and landscape lighting that’s almost romantic, it’s also dark, as if every window has heavy curtains on it. If not for the cars parked out front, I would have no idea that anybody’s even here.

The reception desk is elegant. The woman sitting behind it is elegant.

As Tristan leads me into the first room…more elegance.

To my disappointment, nobody’s even naked.

And then I realize it’s because it’s really not a sex club. It’s an exclusive club for exclusive people. The first room which looks to take up half the first floor is basically a standard nightclub. Music pumps, and people dance while they drink. They all seem to be having a nice time, and they’re completely oblivious to the fact that a football megastar just walked into the room.

Or maybe they’re not totally oblivious, but they don’t really seem to care.

We walk through the nightclub toward the other half of the first floor, which is set up sort of like a study. I can’t hear the music from the room next to us except when someone enters the room, and even then, it’s somehow muted.

Bookcases line the walls, and there are several seating areas of different sizes. Two wingback armchairs sit with a small table in between, and there are four sets of those along one side of the room. A couch and two love seats all face a table for bigger groups to talk, and there are three sets of those. Pool tables are lined up in the middle of the room with pendant lighting overhead, and a long bar with stools extends along another wall.

This looks like a room where business is conducted, and I glance around the room. My eyes land on legendary baseball player Troy Bodine talking with a group of other baseball players I recognize.

“Troy Bodine?” I murmur to Tristan, who nods.

“One of the owners,” he says.

My eyes land on the hottest former baseball player in the group: Cooper Noah.

He played for the Dodgers for many years and quit playing thanks to an elbow injury not too long ago. I recognize him from some magazine’s cover—he made the hottest celebrity list for the last six years running, and even from across the room, he’s hotter than that magazine gave him credit for. He rakes a hand through his perfectly mussed dark hair then runs his hand along the strong jawline. He glances up, probably because he feels me staring at him, and he offers a friendly smile.

Jeez.

His teeth practically gleam even in the darkness of this room, and I swear his bright blue eyes sparkle at me.

Tristan chooses that moment to toss his arm around my shoulder and draw me in.

“That’s Cooper Noah,” I whisper yell, and he chuckles.

“I know. I’ve met him a few times. Super nice guy.”

“What’s he doing here?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Looks like he’s talking to Troy.” And then he starts walking over toward the bar like it’s no big deal that Cooper Noah and Troy Bodine are just sitting on a couch in a club. “Want a drink?”

I nod. “A glass of wine would really hit the spot.” Or two or three.

It’s weird to look around the room and spot more people I recognize. Do these people use the sex rooms?

And speaking of the sex rooms…when are we going to see them? Do I get to watch Cooper in a sex room?

Tristan orders, and I’m standing beside him as we wait for the bartender when I hear male voices behind me.

“Thanks for inviting me to the club tonight, man,” the first voice says. “This floor is great, but the third floor isn’t really my thing.”

I’m so freaking tempted to turn around to see who it is.

“I had ulterior motives,” the second voice says.

“You always do,” the first voice says with an easy laugh, and without knowing anything about them, I can tell it’s two friends talking.

“I’m sure you’ve heard by now the expansion team was approved. Las Vegas is getting a new baseball team, and they’ve given me an offer to be the manager. I want you to come play for me,” voice two says.

I can’t help it.

I turn to look behind me, and my eyes widen as I pretend I’m looking at something across the room. Both men glance at me, totally catching me in the act of trying to see who they are.

My cheeks flush with embarrassment as I turn back around.

Oh. My. God.

It’s Troy Bodine and Cooper Noah.

Good Lord, they’re both attractive men.

This isn’t a sex club.

This is a club where the hottest people on Earth get to gather and just sit around being hot.

Troy is asking Cooper to play for the expansion team coming to Vegas, and I’ve never felt so on the cutting edge of the hottest celebrity gossip in my entire twenty-five years on this Earth.

“Nah, man. I’ve been out of the game for years. You don’t want me,” Cooper says as I pretend to watch the bartender when my attention is solely focused on the conversation happening behind me.

“Is the elbow healed?” Troy asks.

“Yeah. Surgery pieced me back together, but I’m far from being in shape to play,” Cooper says.

Troy huffs out a laugh. “Then it’s a good thing we’ve got five months of off-season training before we need to head into pre-season training.”

“You really want me to unretire?” Cooper asks. “I don’t know. I mean, I miss the game, of course. I loved every second of playing. But I’ve got some good shit going on now, too.”

Troy’s not laughing anymore. “Listen, Coop. You know how these expansion drafts go. Everyone holds tight to their best players, and we get our pick from the leftovers. We need you. We need a born leader. We need someone to be the face of the Vegas Heat, and I want that someone to be you.”

“The Vegas Heat?” Cooper asks, and I wish I could see Troy behind me. I make a guess that he nods at Cooper’s question. “That’s a kickass name.”

It really is.

Tristan hands me a glass of wine and grabs his beer, and then he turns around. “Hey, man,” he says to Cooper, and he nods at Troy.

He knows them.

He’s friends with them.

My mind is blown.

He ushers me up to the next floor, so I never get to hear Cooper’s response.

He takes me through the strip club and out to the backyard, a romantic area with a pool and a gorgeous view of the mountain right in front of us.

We head up to the third floor, and rather than take me on a tour, Tristan opens a door. He holds it open and gestures with his hand, so I walk in first. It’s dark, and he flips a switch behind me as he locks the door.

Lights turn on, but they’re dim. That’s when I notice the dimmer, but Tristan leaves it how it is.

The room is large, with a dresser on one side, a leather chair in one corner, and a huge bed on a rotating platform in the center with a nightstand beside it.

Is there a bed size bigger than a king? Because I’m pretty sure this room has it.

Built into the headboard and footboard are what look to be cuffs, and a little thrill goes through me at the thought of being stretched, cuffed, and pleasured.

Mirrors of different sizes and shapes are on the walls, and there’s even a mirror on the ceiling.

It seems no matter which way I look, I’ll be able to watch whatever Tristan is doing to me.

“This is one of the private rooms,” Tristan says, moving in behind me. “Nobody can see what we’re doing in here.” He points to the corners of the rooms. “No cameras. Total privacy.”

I set my wine glass down on the dresser. “What plans do you have for me, Mr. Higgins?”

I open the top dresser drawer, and my eyes widen at what I find.

Vibrators, dildos, and cock rings of all different sizes stare back at me.

I quickly slam the drawer shut as I spin around to face my husband, who stealthily moved mere inches from me.

I gasp at his proximity.

“Find something you like in there, Mrs. Higgins?” he murmurs.

“Uh…” I stammer.

“Everything in here is sanitized and ready for use.” He pulls open the next drawer, showing me a variety of crops, whips, and paddles. The next drawer has clamps and plugs and other items that seem to be a total mystery to my rather na?ve, innocent self.

I glance up at him. “Or we could just…you know…”

“Fuck?” he asks, and the way he says the word with a hard k sound at the end speaks right to my aching vagina.

I nod a little timidly, and he shuts the drawer and steps toward me. I shiver—not because I’m cold, but because of the anticipation. Because I can’t believe he’s really here in front of me.

Yeah, it was exciting seeing those other athletes and celebrities downstairs. It was neat hearing that Las Vegas is getting a baseball team, and Troy Bodine wants Cooper Noah to be the face of it.

But it’s all gone from my mind as I focus on Tristan.

My husband .

The man who has vowed forever with me when for the last seven years, the only way I had a chance to even get in touch with him was in my dreams.

I draw in a deep breath and exhale slowly as he wraps his arms around me, I breathe him in, and I tip my chin up so I can look at him. So I can pinch myself. So I can remind myself that this is real.

And then his mouth collides down to mine, and he devours me with a simple kiss. My heart races and I hold him tightly, pulling myself as close to him as I can while he kisses me with all the pent-up passion of being away from each other for two long weeks.

His hand glides along my torso to my breast, which he cups in his big hand, and then he backs up a little, stopping the kiss way too abruptly.

“Take off your dress,” he demands, and I practically squeal with excitement as I scramble out of my dress.

I love demanding, dominating, aggressive Tristan.

I also love sweet cinnamon roll Tristan who’s sexy on the outside and sweet on the inside. And caretaker Tristan who does everything he can to be a wholesome, good guy. And hot as hell football player in the tight pants Tristan. And best daddy in the world Tristan who’s a family man down to his very core.

And by some miracle, he loves me, too.

Which he shows me quite aggressively as my hands and feet are cuffed to this bed. First he sucks on my clit, giving me an intense orgasm with his mouth that has me trembling, and then he slides into me and gives me another one.

I’m sated, exhausted, and elated as we rest on the bed together for a little while before he’s ready to go again, and it’s in those quiet moments of bliss that I look toward the future. I see laughter and intimacy and more kids and quiet getaways and loud vacations. I see so much happiness and bliss when I spent so many years in the opposite.

It always came back to that one person—the one who was meant for me just as I am meant for him.

And I can’t wait for every second of the future with my wide receiver.