Page 25

Paige

I take a moment to compose myself when I get inside the venue, making sure to fix my dress and check my hair, and then I’m on—albeit a little flustered—greeting guests and thanking donors.

After spending the day setting up for the Storm event, I rushed home to get ready, planning to be back before the majority of guests arrived. And I was. But I didn’t count on Easton accosting me before I got to the door.

Though I wouldn’t say it was unwelcome.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since the night of my photo shoot. I may have been drunk, but I can still remember every bit of our encounter. Of my advances and his restraint. I was frustrated when he didn’t want to come in, but I also understood his view on things. It should have been my view too.

Now, something seems to have shifted between us, and the pull is impossible to ignore.

I have never wanted anyone more than I want him, but God is it complicated.

Thirty minutes later, when most of the guests have arrived, I take to the stage, gaining attention to run through the schedule for the night.

After a lot of negotiating, the board finally agreed for me to set a golden age theme. I had the era of cinema in mind, but I didn’t specifically say that to avoid setting a dress code. I was happy to accept the golden age of fashion or even sport. It was left up to the guests themselves and they did not disappoint.

There are top hats and ball gowns, but also attire a little more casual, and I am loving the mix.

If the effort is anything to go by, it’s shaping up to be a successful night.

After welcoming everyone and explaining the details of the auction, I pause to check my notes, making sure I’ve covered everything. And when I’m certain that I have, I glance up and catch Easton’s stare.

“From the bottom of my heart, thank you,” I say, ready for my moment to be over. “And that’s all from me. Hopefully we’re all on the same page and excited to—” Easton subtly raises an eyebrow and I stumble over my parting words. “Excited to donate. I’ll… ah… hand the floor back to… to… the band.”

Dammit, Easton. I don’t get nervous like that. I’m not the girl that struggles when a guy gives me attention. That’s not me.

When I get off the stage, I make my way through the crowd, head down, only looking up when a hand gently squeezes my waist.

Easton.

Without drawing attention, he subtly leans in, his palm scorching my skin, while I school my features, anticipating his words. “Your guests sure as hell better be on a different page than mine or there will be hell to pay.”

Jesus Christ .

He keeps moving as though the exchange never happened, while my entire body melts. And for the next two hours, I’m on edge. Twitchy. Hot with anticipation even though Easton doesn’t so much as glance in my direction.

Why the hell would I choose option two? I’m clearly crazy. He’s much better at keeping his cool than I am.

When the crowd gets loud and tipsy, I seek Easton out, finding him talking to a beautiful woman, and the sting of jealousy bites me. I laugh to myself as I shake off my thoughts. Christian and I used to play those games—purposely making each other jealous, increasing the tension until one of us got mad—then making up for it the second we were alone.

Easton and I don’t need the tension from jealousy. He has me wound so tightly I could snap at any moment just from thinking about what he’s going to do. Or when. How… God, what is he doing to me?

I glance his way again, and it’s obvious from his bored expression that there’s nothing between them. He’s not talking to her as a message to me. They probably work together. Nothing more.

It’s me he wants.

And it’s me he’s going to get, because as tense as I am right now, I’m his for the taking, his for whatever he wants to do to me. And he knows it.

I’m actually surprised by this side of him. I never would have expected it from my private football man. He’s always so guarded and— Wait… My man? Jesus . He tells me I’m his—no, he tells me my pussy is his and suddenly I’m calling him mine. Bad idea, Paige. Tonight is about an addendum to our agreement. Nothing more.

Our lives haven’t changed. Easton still has his son. His sweet-natured little boy who I simply adore. And I still have my own issues. One day the veil of my perfect life is going to be ripped away and the truth will come out. I’d never let my mess affect Easton, and more than that, I’d never let my mess lead back to Isaac.

Another hour passes and I’m talking to Amelia about the Storm TV show when one of the stars himself, Zane, swaggers over, a cheesy smile on his face, while I struggle to force one myself. I’m not going to pretend I’ve learned the names of all my father’s players yet, because I’m lucky if I know a handful of them, but I know him.

How could I not? On top of the fact that I’ve had three people warn me away from him, he’s also the cause of some of Easton’s pain. And I don’t like him.

“Ladies.” Zane bows his head as though he’s about to tip his hat and I roll my eyes. “How are you both?” he continues. “Amelia, it’s been too long.”

“What can we do for you, Zane?” Amelia keeps a smile on her face and her expression calm, not giving any of her thoughts or feelings away.

“I thought I’d come over and introduce myself to the woman of the hour. Amelia, do you know you’re in the presence of social royalty?”

Amelia shakes her head but laughs. “Speaking of royalty, if Paige is a princess, does that make her father the king? If so, it’s time for you to fall to your knees.” She points over Zane’s shoulder, drawing our gazes to the stage as my father, the king as she called him, takes his position, demanding attention with his presence alone. The lights dim as a spotlight bathes him in a glow, drawing the guests forward like sheep.

I follow, of course, but move to the side of the room, out of his line of sight, behind the masses. The last thing I want is for him to see me in the crowd and call me to the stage.

While I obviously don’t mind the spotlight, I’ve done my bit, and I’m currently too worked up to be coherent.

“Good evening, everyone,” Dad begins, and I hold my breath, nervous for the reception he’ll receive. It’s been four weeks since the general manager “resigned” on Dad’s request, and while the stories have died down in the media, he’s still receiving some pushback.

The room falls quiet and I sigh in relief, my shoulders physically dropping as some of the tension leaves my body. Some. Not all of it. Because the rest is attributed to Easton and it’s not going away until I discover his plans.

For all I know, he was joking, and he’s going to disappear after the speeches are done without a word. Wouldn’t that be torture?

“Thank you,” Dad continues. “We appreciate you all for coming tonight and raising money and awareness for this special cause. As Paige mentioned, Parkinson’s disease is a condition close to our heart and affects many families across the world.” I smile as I think about my grandfather, and send out a silent prayer that we can help others going through what he did. “We may not be able to work miracles, but we can do our bit through donations, and I’m blown away to announce that we’ve raised over a million dollars tonight.”

I clap along with the crowd while a sense of pride washes over me. I’m never going to move mountains, but if I can do my bit with the small luxuries I’ve been afforded then I’m happy.

“Before I get down to the specifics, I’m going to hand the mic over to Victoria Kate of The Wiser World Foundation to announce the winners of the door prize and big-ticket auction items.”

Knowing this is going to take a while, I close my eyes and sigh, letting my head fall back before rolling it from side to side, stretching out my neck.

Strong hands grip my waist from behind and I startle until a warmth hits my neck and Easton’s husky voice penetrates my senses. “You look tense. Let me fix that.”

I try to turn but he holds me in place, my strength no match for his own. “Keep your eyes forward, D’Angelo. No matter what happens. Trust me.”

I barely know him, and yet I don’t have to think to decide that I trust him completely and I don’t award that faith to many.

Nodding by way of answer, I keep my eyes on the stage, butterflies swarming my chest as he subtly drags me back, only stopping when I’m pressed against him.

Then his hands disappear.

He’s so still that if I couldn’t feel him against my back, I’d assume he was gone. But on top of his touch, there’s a heat radiating between us. A spark. The signal that our moment has come.

My mind whirls with possibilities during the excruciatingly long minute before the tips of his fingers scrape the back of my legs through my dress, making me jump.

I recover quickly and cough to hide the sudden movement while at the same moment Easton glides his leg between mine, forcing them apart. “We can do this here, discreetly, with my fingers inside your pussy, or I can take you behind this wall and fuck you with a little more abandon, both while we listen to your dad’s grand speech.”

Oh God. The venue we booked has been partitioned off to allow space for the auction. And since the auction is now closed, I’m certain that section is clear. But the idea of getting caught has my pulse spiking and arousal pooling at my center.

I rock my hips, brushing my ass against Easton, and he grows hard behind me, the bulge in his pants pressing into me, making me more desperate to touch him.

I want his fingers, but more than that, I need his cock. I need him to lose control just as much as I do.

Without a word, I walk away, keeping close to the wall on my way to the auction area, my heart beating so fast, it’s hurting my chest.

When I round the corner, out of sight, I heave in a relieved breath. But it’s short-lived. Within a heartbeat, Easton’s there, pushing me against the wall as his hand slips beneath my dress.

“You were right about the torture of anticipation,” he growls, his voice deliciously deep. “But it’s going to be that much more satisfying when I finally sink inside you.”

Jesus . My legs clench and I want to tell him to do it now. I’m ready. I’ve been ready since he had his fingers inside me hours ago, but I’m also greedy and want it all.

“Fuck me with your fingers first; you owe me that. And then, I want your cock.”

“Fuck, Paige. You’re really something else, you know that?” His fingers drift through my center as he speaks, back and forth before he applies a little pressure and my breath hitches, stopping me from answering.

My head falls back as Easton continues to tease me, but when I finally allow myself to relax and enjoy his slow movements, he pumps a finger inside me, immediately curling it to rub against my walls.

My hips buck as I gasp. “Oh God ,” I rush out, clenching my teeth as he rolls my clit with his thumb, working my heat, his fingers like magic.

“You’re always so ready for me,” he whispers, leaning into me, his free hand gliding along my silk dress until he reaches my breasts, squeezing me through the material.

He groans when he finds me braless too, but he shouldn’t be surprised. As if I’d let straps or outlines ruin my glamour.

As if for punishment, he pinches my nipples, and a shot of electricity sparks to my core. But when he gently rubs the pain away, the sensation of the soft material and his warm touch has my body aching for more.

And I’ve changed my mind. “I need you inside me. Now.”

“Not yet, D’Angelo. You can take a little more.”

One of his fingers plays with my ass while the other works my pussy, forcing me to bite my lip to stop myself from screaming.

“Now, Wilder,” I demand somewhat quietly, wrapping my fingers around his tie, pulling him down until we’re face-to-face. “I need you now .”

Reaching for his waistband, I frantically unbutton his pants and lower the zipper before slipping my hands inside, cupping his hard length. He growls as he bucks against me and then he’s spinning me around, pushing my upper body against the wall as he lifts my dress, flashing my ass to whoever may come in.

He waits a few torturous seconds before stepping into me, his fingers spreading my lips before he glides his cock through my slick heat.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he whispers and I push back as I moan, more desperate for him than I’ve ever been before.

He thankfully doesn’t make me wait, sinking into me in one quick movement, groaning as he does.

I haven’t been with anyone since we first started seeing each other, and his thickness burns, but I welcome it, holding my breath until he’s buried to the hilt.

I’d love to stop and enjoy the feeling of him filling me up, but we both know we don’t have the time for that and immediately start moving, him grabbing my hips and guiding my movements, me gripping the wall so I can push back, meeting his fervor.

With his movements frantic, I rock my hips hard as I straighten up, reaching back to curl my arm around his neck, the new position squeezing his cock before he’s ready.

“Fuck,” he groans, and his breath on my ear, mixed with the feel of him inside me, has me melting for him.

I buck in the new position and Easton clears his throat in warning seconds before a guttural groan rips from within him, my movements making it harder for him to stay quiet.

A smile pulls at my lips, but Easton wipes it off my face by pinching my clit while he pumps into me, forcing me to cover my mouth as a cry escapes my lips and my orgasm consumes me.

My hips buck uncontrollably, and I’m high on the ecstasy of Easton until I hear my name and freeze.

“Before I call her up here, I want to tell you a bit about the work she’s done to make tonight possible.”

Fuck . I squirm, trying to wriggle out of Easton’s grasp but he doesn’t move. He’s not done. Instead, he pumps harder while his thumb runs circles over my clit, sending my body into a fit of spasms, with him following me over the edge, grunting through his release.

My body collapses against the wall but Easton grips tighter, holding me against him until my breathing slows and the pulse of his cock makes me shiver.

I don’t get a chance to enjoy the moment before I’m being spun around and guided down a darkened hall, confusing me until the exit sign shines a light on the bathroom door.

“I thought you’d want to clean up before Daddy called you onto the stage,” Easton rasps in my ear. “You can’t have him knowing you’re not the dutiful daughter he thinks you are.”

This man . Fuck . I shiver at his gravelly voice, but by the time I’m focused enough to turn around, he’s gone.

Snapping out of my daze, I run in and freshen up before making a dash to the side of the stage, hearing my dad call my name as I reach him. “Paige, honey. Where are you?”

“I’m here.” I rush up the steps, settling myself under his outstretched arm. “Sorry, I was near the back because this is unnecessary. You don’t have to praise me.”

Dad smiles, shaking off my concern as he whispers, “Of course, I do. This is all you .” He lifts the mic to his mouth and sets about embarrassing me. “If you haven’t met my beautiful daughter, this is Paige.”

As he speaks, I think about Easton, imagining him watching me, smiling at our close call, my body heating at what we just did.

I thank the heavens for the sheer number of auction items and my dad’s over-the-top speeches because without that, we never would have made it to the end.

Speaking of over-the-top, “As well as being a model and artist,” Dad continues and my eyes flash to his, my smile locked in place, when I’d rather scold him. “…she’s also the founder of the D’Angelo Foundation, and I think we can all agree, she’s one heck of an event planner.”

He’s embellishing the truth, but I let that slide. I’m not an event planner. I’ve only really planned this one event on my own, and technically he and Mom founded the charity, putting it in my name before handing it over to me.

I love the D’Angelo Foundation and wouldn’t change a thing, but it’s a step I probably wouldn’t have taken on my own.

“Paige and I will be hosting multiple events over the next few years, in partnership with The San Francisco Storm, and hope to see you all here again, doing your bit for these amazing charity foundations. I understand a lot of you have charities you regularly support or charities of your own, therefore we appreciate anything you can do as we as a team give back.

“For our next event, we’re teaming up with Thomas Kelly’s mental health project, a cause I wholeheartedly believe in. It’s important to raise awareness of mental health in athletes, specifically men, and I can’t wait to see what we can do to support Thomas’s wonderful foundation. We know the spotlight’s on us as a team this year for a number of reasons—the Super Bowl for one, and the other little prime-time moment that we won’t be talking about—and with the help of Paige and her foundation, we’re planning to step up and shine.”

The crowd laughs at the mention of the TV show, but it’s still a sore point with the team. I’ve been told the players and officials are divided in their opinions of the show. My dad sits firmly in the “ not a fan” club, as does Keeley. And I’m sure Easton would feel the same. Understandable considering how he was portrayed on top of Zane’s tell-all about his ex.

“Our team may be a mix of the young and the older, but at the heart of it, we’re a family. A family that cares. A family that supports each other. A family that enjoys a good celebration when one of their own achieves greatness. So, cheer us on as we achieve greatness this year both on and off the field. And let’s get this party started. I’m sure you’re all sick of my voice. It’s time to get back to the festivities. Thank you all for coming. And here’s to back-to-back wins.”

He raises a glass, the base of it almost hitting my ear, and I smile while the crowd cheers.

I’ve got to admit, he’s good. I just hope it’s enough to win over those still on the fence when it comes to his choices.

Dad and I walk offstage and the second we’re out of earshot, he releases a deep sigh. “That never gets easier. Put me in a negotiating situation and I’m on fire. Need me to do a speech about a hot topic, I’m your man. Ask me to speak about something that's personal to me and I clam up. Just calling your name had me sweating.”

My shoulders drop. I was all set to tell him off for mentioning my artwork, but now I feel bad for him. He probably doesn’t even realize he did it. “Who knew under that tough, bulldog exterior there was a sensitive soul.”

“You did,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’ve always been real with you.”

“I think I might be the only person.”

“Shame it’s not mutual.” His brow raises but I know better than to take the bait.

“I’m real with you, Dad. This is who I am,” I lie. Yes, I love my public persona. But there’s so much more to me. No one is that happy all the time. No matter what they project to the world. Thomas and his charity is a good example of that. He announced he had depression a few years ago, and he’s been fighting to reduce the stigma around it ever since. I admire him for that.

I have a feeling this team is going to grow on me. But there’s one player in particular that I want to see right now.