THE PLAYMAKER
BONUS SCENE: First Date Jitters
A steamy peek into Avery’s thoughts before her first official date with Jaxon Carter…
AVERY
My third outfit joins the growing pile on my bed as I stare helplessly at my closet. The black lace lingerie set I'm wearing was an impulse purchase this morning—ridiculous considering I shouldn't be planning for him to see it.
"It's just dinner," I mutter, hands trembling slightly as I run them over the delicate lace edges at my hips. "You've literally had sex with the man in a coat closet. This shouldn't be hard."
But it is hard. Because this isn't just sex anymore. This is a date. A real date with Jaxon Carter—NFL superstar, secret guardian brother, and the man whose touch still burns on my skin hours after he's gone.
I glance at my phone. Forty-five minutes until he picks me up.
My nipples tighten against the lace of my bra as I remember how his tongue felt circling them, how his hands gripped my ass as he lifted me against that wall. The memory alone makes heat pool between my thighs.
"Focus, Avery," I scold myself, though my reflection shows flushed cheeks and dilated pupils that betray my thoughts.
I've spent years writing exposés on men like Jax—athletes with egos larger than their contracts, men who take what they want and leave destruction in their wake. I swore I'd never be that woman warming an athlete's bench.
Yet here I am, practically throbbing at the thought of seeing him again.
I select a deep blue dress with a neckline that dips just low enough to make his eyes darken when he sees me. It hugs every curve, stopping mid-thigh—short enough to tease, but not desperate. The fabric feels cool against my heated skin.
"You're not just terrified of him breaking your heart," I whisper to my reflection as I apply a deep red to my lips. "You're terrified of how much you want him to try."
Because maybe the scariest part isn't that he'll leave like my father did. Maybe it's that he'll stay, and I'll have to admit I've been wrong about athletes my entire life.
My doorbell rings fifteen minutes early, and liquid heat rushes through me.
He's here.
I take a deep breath, sliding my hands down my dress one last time as I walk to the door. The lace between my legs feels damp already, and we haven't even started the evening.
I open the door to find Jaxon standing there, eyes immediately dropping to where my dress hugs my breasts. His gaze is hungry, possessive, and for a moment, he doesn't even try to hide it.
"Little Benchwarmer," he says, voice rough with desire as he steps forward, his fingertips grazing my waist. "You have no idea what you do to me."
I step back, letting him in, the air between us crackling with electricity. "We have dinner reservations," I remind him, though my body is screaming for something else entirely.
His eyes lock with mine, a smile curving those sinful lips. "We do. But I've been thinking about tasting something else all day."
And just like that, I know dinner might have to wait.
This isn't just another story.
This is the beginning of ours—and it's going to be deliciously complicated.
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