Page 58 of Flag On The Play
I nod once, a hand running through my still-damp hair. “On the field and off.”
Back at the hotel, the city lights glow through the massive window of my suite. I’m still high off the win, but it’s not enough.
Not without her.
So I grab my phone and hit her name.
She answers on the second ring, her voice sleep-soft and sexy. “Hey, QB.”
“Did I wake you?”
“No. Just lying in bed, scrolling on my phone, and missing you.”
I groan, sinking back onto the bed. “Damn, Wilde. You can’t say things like that when I’m a thousand miles away.”
“Oh no,” she teases, “is the big, tough quarterback struggling?”
I smile, eyes closing. Her voice is like a balm to the noise of the day. “You have no idea. I couldn’t stop thinking about you tonight. Every play, every snap, you were right there.”
Her breath hitches just enough for me to hear it.
“You’re my secret weapon, Nova.”
“Pretty sure that’s not legal in the playbook.”
“I’m not playing by their rules anymore.”
Silence stretches for a second.
Then she whispers, “Tell me what you’d be doing right now if you weren’t in Seattle.”
I let the words settle before answering, my voice dropping low.
“I’d be on top of you.”
“Finlay,” she whispers.
“Slow,” I cut in. “I’d take my time. Kiss every inch of you. Remind you exactly what you do to me.”
Her breathing’s heavier now. “That’s what you’d be doing?”
“Hell yeah. You think I could spend the night thinking about the way you taste and not want more?”
She’s quiet, and when she finally speaks, her voice is thick with heat. “I’m touching myself.”
Jesus Christ.
I shift on the bed, trying not to explode.
“I need to hear it, Nova. Every sound you make. Every breath.”
And she gives it to me. Soft, breathy gasps as I talk her through it, painting every filthy promise I plan to keep the second I’m back.
When it’s over, we’re both wrecked. Quiet. But not awkward.
Never awkward with her.
“I miss you,” I say quietly.
