Easton: The Casanova Club #3

by Ali Parker

  Piper looked down at her feet, and her brow furrowed. I didn’t give a damn what she was thinking, and I turned away to lock myself in the locker room somewhere private. She reached out and grabbed my wrist. “Easton, I—”

  “I said enough!” I barked, wrenching my wrist out of her hands.

  She recoiled from me as I rounded on her.

  I pointed a finger at her. “I don’t need your pity, and I sure as shit don’t need your pep talk, Piper. You don’t know shit about this game, and you don’t know shit about me. Just give me some fucking space, will you?”

  Piper’s lips formed a thin line. She lifted her chin, turned on her heel, and marched across the turf toward the exit.

  I was content to just watch her leave until I remembered she didn’t have a ride home. Grumbling to myself, I jogged after her, and when I caught up, I blocked her path. “Wait. How are you getting back to the house?”

  Piper put her weight on her right foot, popped her hip out, and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m a grown-ass woman. I can find my own way back without you and your rotten attitude.”

  “Listen, I don’t need shit from you right now. You hear me? I just lost the—”

  “I know what you lost, Easton,” Piper snapped, taking a step toward me and jabbing me in the chest with her index finger. “And here’s a newsflash for you. I didn’t take the win from you. I didn’t cost you the game. There had to be a loser, and guess what? It happened to be you. How dare you have the audacity to speak to me like that? I won’t tolerate it. Do you hear me?”

  She was pissed. Real pissed. Her stare was hard, angry, and almost unrecognizable, but she wasn’t scaring me.

  I glared right back. “Where do you get off being so pissed at me over this? We barely know each other.”

  Piper scoffed. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  She broke her stare and shook her head. “I’m mad because I care about you, Easton. And I know you care about me too. And all of this bullshit,” she gestured at all of me, “is just a facade.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I growled.

  She leaned in and met my stare once more. “You’re afraid. You’re afraid of what’s going to happen next now that you lost what might have been your last chance at the Super Bowl, and instead of dealing with it like a grown-ass man, you’re lashing out at me. I won’t take it, Easton. I won’t. I expect an apology from you the next time we talk.”

  She turned away, but I caught her upper arm. “Don’t walk away from me. You think I’m scared?”

  Her lips peeled off her teeth in a snarl that almost made me back down. “I know you are.” Her voice was thick with venom as she wrenched her arm out of my grasp. “Goodnight, Easton. I think your team needs you.”

  With that, she marched off. I could sense her anger in every step she took, and I could feel the eyes of my teammates on my back as I watched her go.

  Had I not already thrown my helmet down in a rage, now would have been the perfect time to do it. Instead, I stood there like a fool with my arms hanging slack at my sides, wishing I could take all the words back that hurt the girl who had worked her way into my heart.

  “Shit.”

  Chapter 18

  Piper

  The taxi dropped me off outside Easton’s house about an hour after the game ended. Even after all that time, I was still fuming.

  The driver, a guy in his early twenties with terrible driving habits, avoided making eye contact in the rearview mirror with me the whole drive for fear of me biting his head off like a psychopath in his back seat. Had he pushed any of my buttons, I might have.

  I couldn’t recall a time where I had been this angry and hurt. Where did Easton get off talking to me like that? Who did he think I was? Some girl he could take on and off a shelf whenever he needed her? Someone to cook him meals one night and then bear the brunt of his anger the next?

  “Absolutely fucking not,” I hissed as I marched up the steps to his front door and then promptly turned around to sit on the top step. I lifted my knees and rested my chin in my palm. “And now, we wait.”

  Easton gave me another fifteen minutes to seethe before he and Raj pulled up, lighting up the front of the house with the SUV’s headlights. Raj parked farther away than usual, and he didn’t get out of the car to offer Easton a good evening. He didn’t even turn the car off. He waited until Easton climbed out of the back seat, and then he drove off none too slowly.

  Easton had showered and changed out of his uniform. He was wearing black dress pants and a white button-up. His duffel bag was in one hand, and he’d rolled the sleeves of his shirt up. Some of his hair was still wet, and the fact that he looked so damn handsome only made me angrier.

  He walked up the drive with his eyes cast down. When he arrived at the foot of the steps, he finally looked up to meet my steely stare. “I’m sorry, Piper.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him and resisted the urge to call him several very foul names.

  He sighed at my silence. “I’m not used to… checking myself. Or having someone else check me. I’ve gotten away with some shitty behavior over the last few years, and tonight made me realize just how easy it is for me to project my bullshit onto other people.”

  I peered at him out of the corner of my eye and wished his words didn’t sound so genuine. I wanted to stay mad at him. It would be so much easier to stay mad at him. I could avoid him for the next two weeks until it was time for me to move on to the next man in March. I could pine over Joshua and let the resentment toward Easton build until all the feelings I’d developed for him disappeared.

  Or didn’t.

  Easton sighed. His shoulders slumped and drew inward, and he dropped his duffel bag at his feet. “I feel like a total ass, and I don’t know how to make this better. You didn’t deserve that back there. And I understand if you want me to call Jackson Lee and ask for him to arrange a ride for you to head to the airport tonight. I won’t blame you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You can’t just make this easy for me, can you?”

  “Sorry?”

  “You heard me. Five minutes ago, I was ready to rip your head from your shoulders and now? Now I—I—”

  “You what?”

  I popped up to my feet and planted my hands on my hips. “Now I’m just confused.”

  Easton’s eyes darted back and forth between mine, and he took the first two steps, leaving only four between us. “How can I un-confuse you?”

  His gaze wasn’t hard and angry like it had been back at the stadium. He was the Easton I’d grown to care for over the last two weeks. But how consistent was this? Did he have these mood swings all the time? Or was it just because of the game loss?

  I understood that he’d be angry. Of course I did. It wasn’t like he’d just lost a round of golf with a couple of work buddies. He’d just had the Super Bowl stolen away from him, and football was his passion. His life.

  What he was feeling right now might be akin to what I felt when I thought about what the future looked like if my parents lost the restaurant. I let my arms fall to my sides. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry too. I could have maintained my composure a little better.”

  Easton cocked his head to the side. “I think you handled yourself like a champ.”

  “I was mean.”

  “You were far from mean, Piper. You said the things nobody in my life has had the balls to say to me for years. And I appreciate it. I mean, the timing could have been better, but still, I needed to hear it.” He smiled.

  I ran my fingers through my hair. “Well, you let me know if you ever need someone to put you in your place.”

  He chuckled. “You’ll be the first person I call. Can I tell you something?” He climbed the last stairs between us and stopped on the one below mine.

  “What?” I whispered. He was so close I could smell him.

  The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled down at me. He was so tall I still had to look up at him when he
was on the lower step. He lifted his chin. “You were pretty sexy when you went off like that.”

  “Easton!”

  He flashed me a cocky grin.

  I hid my face behind my hands as the first bout of laughter washed over me. I willed myself to keep it together, but it was impossible, and soon, Easton was laughing along with me, and we were both shaking our heads at our own hotheadedness.

  He finally joined me on the top step. “So, does this mean you forgive me?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’m going to need a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ on that.”

  “Or what?” I dared, deliberately pinching my bottom lip between my teeth.

  Easton shrugged one shoulder and slid a hand into the pocket of his pants. He lifted his other hand to stroke my cheek. “Or I’ll have to stand out here all night and wait until I know for sure you forgive me so I can take you to my bed.”

  I leaned into his palm and hooked a finger in his belt loop to pull him toward me. He bowed his head so our lips were inches apart. “I forgive you,” I whispered.

  And that was that.

  Our kiss was hot and wet, and he held me to him like I was as fragile as a dried rose petal. I slid one leg up his and hooked my calf around his knee to hold myself there in his arms as he took a step back and fumbled to get his keys out of his pocket with me suctioned to him.

  He slid the key into the lock and pushed the door open. We stumbled backward into the house. Easton kicked the door closed behind us and wrapped his arms around my lower back. Then he guided me down the hall, step by step, side to side, until he caught the doorframe to his bedroom and paused, hooking his fingers above his head in the frame.

  I wrapped my fingers in the front of his white button-up. “What?”

  Easton studied me, and I could see the wheels turning in his mind. “I think you’re going to fuck me up real good, Piper James.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “We’ll see.”

  We continued backward to the bed. Easton crushed his lips to mine and unbuttoned my jeans. I hurried to strip them off, and as I stepped out of them, he pushed me lightly by the shoulders, sending me down onto his bed on my back.

  I giggled as he descended upon me, planting his knees on either side of my legs. I sat up, and he took my jacket off. Then he pulled my shirt over my head, leaving me in my bra, panties, and ankle socks.

  “Are you going to punish me for giving you a dose of tough love on the field?” I asked, squirming playfully beneath him as he undid his pants.

  Easton’s cheeks stretched in a wry grin as he unzipped his fly. He dropped forward and braced himself with a hand on either side of my head. His hair was still damp, and it hung in front of his eyes. “No, baby. I’m going to reward you for it.”

  I reached my hands over my head and arched my back, lifting my breasts up and putting on a show for him. “Do your worst, Mr. Superstar.”

  Easton ran his hands up my hips and waist to my bra, which he tugged down. My breasts popped out. Easton pulled my panties aside and worked his pants down around his hips.

  I slid my legs out from between his. Easton leaned over me to reach across the bed to his nightstand, where he opened the drawer and fished out a condom. He tore it open and watched me as he slid it on.

  I couldn’t wait any longer. I lifted my legs back and pressed my thighs together. Easton pressed his cock against my pussy, applying more pressure until he slid between my folds. He leaned in harder, putting a hand on the back of each of my thighs and pushing me deeper into the mattress as he pushed his full length inside me.

  “Oh God,” I breathed, my voice hitching in my throat as I took all of him on the first thrust.

  Easton pulled out and drove back into me. The pressure was incredible and delicious. Each thrust made my insides swell with the need for a release, and when Easton held my ankles together in one hand and pressed the thumb of his other hand to my clit, I nearly climaxed immediately.

  I kept it together a little bit longer. The battle was lost when he rolled his thumb in slow circles. I cried out his name and held my knees to my chest. Easton let out a primal growl above me and fucked me harder. His legs slapped into mine, and when he released his load, he clenched his jaw and hung his head. I raked my fingers through his hair.

  He released my ankles, and I let my legs fall to either side of him. I tried to hide my face from him, but he pulled my hands out of the way and kissed my knuckles.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again.

  “It’s done,” I whispered.

  “I know.”

  I smiled and propped myself up on my elbows so I could kiss him. “I should head to my room.”

  “Stay?”

  I settled back down beneath him as warmth spread through me. “If you insist.”

  Chapter 19

  Easton

  Eleven more days. That was all I had left with the girl slumbering in my bed like a fairy-tale princess, with her dark hair all undone and wildly splayed across my pillows.

  I tucked an arm under my pillow as I lay on my side watching Piper sleep.

  I’d woken up every day like this for the last five days—ever since the night of my last football game of the season. Neither Piper nor me saw any reason for her to have to sleep alone in the guest quarters, and we’d spent every single night exploring each crevice of one another’s bodies, searching for new places to make the other feel like a dream.

  Piper was very good at it, and I was pretty confident in my abilities, too.

  I let out a deep breath and resisted the urge to brush her hair away from her face. A strand was caught in her lashes, but I didn’t want to wake her. Instead, I wanted to do something nice for her.

  She’d been preparing meals left, right, and center since she first showed up. It was time for me to return the favor.

  I rolled over slowly. The bed creaked beneath me, but only softly, and I swung my legs over the side to push myself off the edge. Then I did my business in the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, put on a pair of sweats, and left the bedroom door open just an inch as I padded down the hallway to the kitchen.

  It was earlier than I’d been in my kitchen for some time. Usually on a day like this after losing my shot at the Super Bowl, I would stay in bed until noon after drinking myself stupid the night before while wallowing in self-pity. But I felt no self pity or loathing this morning. I felt good. Refreshed. Energetic.

  One might even say happy.

  So, I took advantage of the endorphins, opened the fridge, and stared at the contents to try to make sense of it all and think of something I could make Piper for breakfast. My first thought was to try to show off and make an omelette like the one she first made when she arrived at the beginning of the month.

  It was a good thought until I realized they would turn into scrambled eggs because I was hopeless in the kitchen, and there was no way I’d be able to flip an omelette. There was also no way Piper wouldn’t figure that out when I handed her a plate of scrambled eggs with veggies and cheese in them. She’d be onto me in a second, and I’d never hear the end of it.

  I shook my head. No omelettes. Next idea. There were always pancakes, but those seemed a bit mundane, and Piper deserved something a bit fancier. Just a bit.

  The natural resolution was French toast, which lucky for me, was something I actually knew how to prepare and could do a pretty decent job of it.

  I set to work and gathered the bowls I would need to soak the slices of bread in egg and cinnamon and a bit of sugar. While it soaked, I went about pulling out the pan and maple syrup and got everything ready to brew a pot of coffee. I found a tray hidden in a back cupboard I hadn’t opened in at least a year and set it on the kitchen island. When everything was done, I would set it on the tray and bring Piper breakfast in bed.

  It took a bit more effort than I originally expected. First, the pan didn’t heat up enough. Then it was too hot, and I burnt the first piece of bread
which I made sure to put on my plate and not Piper’s. From there, things got a little smoother, and I found a routine that worked.

  By eight o’clock, the coffees were poured and steaming in their mugs. I had two plates stacked with three pieces of French toast each and a side bowl of cut-up fruit of varying sizes. I’d done my best to make them all bite-sized, but I realized halfway through that my bites were likely much bigger than Piper’s, so I had cut them all in half again, leaving them a bit too small to be considered bite-sized.

  I nudged the bedroom door open with the corner of the tray and stepped into the bedroom. It was bright with sunlight, but that didn’t seem to disturb Piper at all. She was still asleep, curled up on her side with her hand under her cheek. I put the tray on my side at the foot of the bed and climbed up to prop up the pillows.

  Then I leaned over and put a hand on her shoulder. “Good morning.”

  Piper moaned.

  “Time to wake up. I brought breakfast. And coffee.”

  At the word coffee, she peeked one eye open. I laughed.

  Piper stretched herself out into a long line and reached her hands above her head. She was naked, just how I liked her in the mornings, and her stretch pulled the blankets down over her breasts. I ran a hand up the middle of her stomach to caress each breast and planted a warm kiss on her soft lips.

  She smiled up at me as she nestled back into the blankets. Her gaze drifted down to the tray by my feet. “That smells good. What brought this on?”

  “I wanted to treat you for once. And I thought breakfast in bed was a good way to start the day off right. I hope you like French toast.”

  Piper pushed herself up into a sitting position, fluffed up two of my pillows, and propped herself up against the headboard. “I love French toast. But why is it so far away?”

  Smiling, I lifted the tray and placed it between us.

  Piper reached immediately for a piece of cantaloupe and popped it in her mouth. From there, she devoured a couple of grapes and some bites of cut-up banana before picking up her cutlery and pulling her plate of French toast toward her.