Page 1 of More Than We Know

CHAPTER 1

SARAH

The house is too quiet.

I should have expected this, but it didn’t occur to me just how permanent it would feel. Our youngest son is finally gone for college, and even though I know he and his brother will be coming home to visit for the holidays in a few months, the weight of the silence is heavier than I anticipated.

I close the book in my lap after attempting to read the same paragraph three times and walk to the living room, where Quentin is lounging on the couch engrossed in some historical documentary.

“Hey, you doing okay?” he asks, shifting his attention from the TV to me.

I shrug. “Yeah. It still feels weird knowing we have the house to ourselves all the time now. I’m not sure what to do with myself.”

“Pretty soon we’ll be back to work, and this will feel normal.”

“I know,” I sigh. Once summer break is over, Quentin and I will go back to school—him as a principal and me as a teacher—and I’m sure we’ll be grateful for the silence in the evenings. But right now it feels like something is missing in a bittersweet sort of way, even though Ethan moved into his apartment only a few days ago. He had wanted to get settled in before classes start.

Quentin sits up and pauses the TV. “How about we have a date night tonight? A real one? It’s been a while since we’ve gotten dressed up and gone out somewhere.”

It doesn’t take me long to consider his offer. “That sounds nice, actually. Were you thinking somewhere specific?”

We toss a few ideas of restaurants and movies back and forth until Quentin says, “What about Club Caliber?”

My eyebrows rise. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been there.”But what better way to take advantage of our newfound solitude than by going to a BDSM club?

“It has. Can you be ready by seven? We can do dinner then go to the club?”

I glance at my phone. It’s only five. “Absolutely.”

I take my time getting ready, having almost forgotten how much I enjoy the process of making myself look and feel good for the club. In the shower, I shaveeverythingand exfoliate with my favorite sugar scrub, and when I get out, I lather myself in lotion. It takes the better part of an hour for me to blow dry my hair and put on makeup.

Wrapped in a towel, I make my way into the bedroom and dig through the back of my dresser drawers until I find what I’m looking for—a black lace lingerie bodysuit that I haven’t worn in over a year.

I hope it still fits, I think before I wiggle into it and adjust the straps, letting out a sigh of relief when it settles against my skin just as nicely as it did before.

I run my fingers over the patterned lace spanning my torso and survey myself in the mirror. While I may not have the same body as I did twenty years ago when Quentin and I started dating, I still think I look pretty damn good. Time has changed a lot about my body, but I like to think that it’s all evidence of the life I’ve lived in those years.

Satisfied with how the lingerie looks and feels, I quickly slip into one of my favorite dresses that I also haven’t had the chance to wear in a long time so that Quentin doesn’t walk in on me in only my lingerie. I want to surprise him with it since he probably doesn’t expect me to wear it.

Not anymore, anyway.

We used to be adventurous, going out on a whim and having kinky fun in our stolen moments. But life got in the way, as it often does. We traded our spontaneous date nights at the club for carting kids to sports practices and catching up on work in the evenings. Priorities shifted with the different phases of life, and intimacy took a backseat while we dealt with the highs and lows of our careers, raising a family, and all the random stressors on top of that.

While there’s never been any doubt in our love, things in the bedroom have become... stagnant. Sex has become more of a routine than an adventure, something we both enjoy but rarely have the time or energy to explore in the way we used to.

Sometimes I wish he’d grab me by the hair, push me to my knees, and tell me to suck his cock, or bend me over the couch and take me in the living room while we’re home alone. I want to submit to him again in the way I used to; I want him to dominate me and show me I’m his.

Maybe his suggestion to go to Club Caliber tonight is his way of telling me he wants the same thing.

“Hey, are you ready?” The bedroom door swings open and Quentin steps in. His eyes rake over my body as he takes in my red dress and black heels. “Well, hello beautiful,” he purrs.

“Hello, Sir,” I flirt, hoping my use of the honorific will clue him in to what I’m thinking—that I want his Dominant side to come out and play.

He raises an eyebrow and his lips quirk up in a smile, telling me he gets the message loud and clear.

We make our way out to the car, and Quentin guides me down the sidewalk with a steady hand on my lower back.

And for the first time in a long time, a spark of excitement ignites within me. I don’tneedanything to change for me to be happy, but I can’t ignore the anticipation rushing through me at the prospect of reviving our old selves.

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