Page 75 of Delicate Storm

It was only casual, for God's sake. There are other men for me, other women for him.

We have to move on.

And yet, neither of us leaves.

Until I’m finally at my breaking point.

Slowing down the treadmill, I begin my cooldown, prepared to concede until Easton’s phone rings and he quickly packs up, disappearing without a backward glance.

The tension snaps as the door clicks shut and I’m finally able to breathe again.

No words were spoken, there was no touching, no feeling, and yet, I don’t think I’ve ever been that turned on in my life.

What is this man doing to me?And more to the point, how long can we keep this up?

CHAPTER TWENTY

Easton

Iswear my cock has been half-mast since I spent that torturous hour in the gym with Paige. From the outside looking in, we were two strangers—or more if you count the other people there with us—innocently sharing a gym. But my thoughts were anything but innocent. I’m almost thankful that others were there. At least it stopped me acting on the graphic visuals I had running through my mind.

I wanted to fuck her. Plain and simple. I wanted to strip her naked, lay her flat on the weight bench, and spread her legs. Then I wanted to feast on her. Work her clit until she was screaming my name, begging me to stop. And fuck—goddammit, I’m going to get hard again.

Today is going to suck.

“East—”

“Nope,” I cut Zane off before he’s even said whatever the fuck he wanted to say because today is not the day. “Unless you’re about to tell me that you’re a fucking idiot and want to worship me at my feet, then no. I’m not interested.”

“The fuck. I didn’t do anything wrong. How many times—”

“Not today.”

“I was just going to tell you that Coach wants us to run drills and—”

“Again. No. Not today.”

Zane’s jaw drops, but he walks away in the direction of our offensive coach, and a little part of me is glad it’s not Coach Pierce. I’m not at all worried about what I said, but I’d rather not get in an argument with the head coach when I can already feel a weird tension surrounding the staff.

I’m not sure what Zane says—whether he complained like a whiny little schoolboy or took the blame. But either way, when the coach calls us for drills, he teams me up with our second wide receiver instead of Zane, and God am I happy about that development. Michaels is great. He keeps to himself and like me, he doesn’t get involved in other people's business. He also doesn’t fuck his teammates’ girlfriends, so he’s got that going for him.

With the season opener this weekend, Coach pushes us to the limit, but there’s not one person on the team that doesn’t welcome it. We’re out to win. To show the world we’re still a force and that we’re gunning for that back-to-back championship. To prove the drama surrounding us hasn’t affected our game. The TV show and our previous owner's departure are a thing of the past. A blip on our radar. Nothing anyone has to worry about. We are the team to beat. I can feel it.

Has some of Luke’s cockiness rubbed off on me? Maybe. But he was right. He told us from day one last season that it was going to be our year, and his confidence never wavered. It makes sense for us to follow his lead. Even if it pains me.

I’m wrecked by the end of practice but feeling good about the team, and it’s clear to see I’m not the only one. There’s a high around the locker room, and it’s difficult not to get caught up init. Until the door opens and Paige is standing at the threshold, chatting closely with my dearly beloved sister. The one I’m about to disown.

Sure, she knows nothing about my situation with Paige, but isn’t she supposed to have some kind of built-in sibling intuition? Shouldn’t she just know to stay the fuck away?

As I stare at her, my mind conjures up the images from Paige’s magazine shoot, and I have to bite my cheek to shift my focus.

Paige’s hands move around animatedly, like they often do when she’s invested in a conversation, and my sister’s hooked on her every word, making me wonder what the hell they’re talking about.

After a few seconds, Paige glances up and her eyes lock on mine as she pauses midconversation, holding my stare until the door closes again, cutting off our connection. I shake my head and continue getting ready, but my thoughts remain on the scene in the hallway.

Trying to figure out what’s being said.

No, trying to work outPaige.

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