Chapter 1

The roar of the crowd filtered through the stadium tunnels like distant thunder. Today was a massive group stage match at the World Cup, and the whole place was buzzing with tension and excitement.

I stood outside the players' lounge, clutching a thick folder of contracts against my chest. Mom had shoved it into my hands right before she rushed off to the airport for yet another "emergency" business trip.

"Bella, sweetheart, be a dear and take these to Alex, okay? He needs them before the broadcast starts," she'd said, kissing my cheek in a hurry. "I'll call you when I land."

And just like that, she was gone.

I took a deep breath, smoothing down the front of my white sundress. It was simple, a little short, and maybe a bit too clingy for a place like this, but I told myself it was just because of the summer heat. Totally normal. Not because I wanted Alex to notice.

Because that would be insane.

Alexander Voss—my stepfather—wasn't someone you could easily ignore. Former England star, now a respected commentator and player agent, he carried himself with that quiet, commanding confidence that made people straighten up when he walked into a room. At forty-two, he was still ridiculously fit, broad-shouldered, with sharp gray eyes and a low voice that always seemed to settle somewhere deep in my stomach.

I'd had a stupid crush on him for longer than I cared to admit. Even after Mom married him two years ago, the feeling never really went away. It only got worse.

I knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open.

Alex was standing near the back of the lounge, scrolling through notes on his tablet. His dark shirt stretched across his chest, sleeves rolled up to show those strong, veined forearms. When he looked up and saw me, his eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise.

"Bella? What are you doing here?" His voice was calm, with that familiar hint of an English accent. "I thought you were going to watch the match from the box with your mum."

"She had to leave for Singapore," I said, walking over and holding out the folder. "She asked me to bring you these contracts. Said they're important for the broadcast."

Our fingers brushed as he took the folder. Just a small touch—nothing special. But my stupid heart still did a little flip.

"Thanks, love," he said, giving me a small smile. "You didn't have to come all the way down here. I could've grabbed them later."

"It's fine," I replied, trying to sound casual. "I was bored in the hotel anyway. Plus… I kind of wanted to see the atmosphere backstage."

Alex chuckled softly, the sound warm and low. "Careful. Once you get a taste of this chaos, it's hard to go back to the stands."

I smiled, feeling a little braver. "Maybe I like chaos."

The words slipped out before I could stop them. For a second, his gaze lingered on me—just a beat longer than usual. I felt heat creep up my neck.

I shifted my weight, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands. My heel caught a slick patch of spilled water on the floor. The world tilted.

"Ah—!"

I gasped, arms flailing.

Strong hands caught me instantly. Alex's arm wrapped around my waist like steel, pulling me against him before I could hit the ground. But the momentum carried me forward. My body crashed into his solid chest, my breasts pressing flush against him. One of my legs slid between his, the short hem of my dress riding dangerously high as my thigh straddled his powerful leg.

Our bodies locked together in the most embarrassing, intimate way possible. My barely-covered core was pressed directly against the firm muscle of his thigh, my lace panties the only thing between us. I could feel the sudden, unmistakable hardness growing against my inner thigh—thick, heavy, and very real.

My breath caught. My nipples tightened instantly against his chest.

"Easy," Alex murmured, his voice low and steady, breath warm against my ear. One large hand stayed firmly on my lower back, the other gripping my hip. "I've got you."

I should have pulled away immediately. Instead, I stayed frozen, heart hammering wildly. The risk hit me like adrenaline—anyone could walk in at any second. A player, a staff member… and here I was, my stepfather's thigh pressed right between my legs, my dress bunched up around my hips.

"Alex…" I whispered, my voice breathy and unsteady. My hands fisted in his shirt. I knew I should move, but my hips betrayed me, rocking once—barely perceptible—against the rigid length now straining fully against his zipper. God, he was huge. The heat of him burned through the thin barrier of my panties, making my clit throb with shameful need.

His jaw clenched. I felt the flex of his thigh muscle between my legs, pressing upward in subtle response. "Bella," he said, warning in his tone, yet his hand slid lower, cupping the curve of my ass under the bunched dress. His fingers brushed the edge of my panties, teasing the sensitive skin where thigh met cheek. "You're shaking."

"I slipped," I breathed, but we both knew it was more than that. My cheeks burned. Wetness was gathering between my folds, soaking the lace. Every breath made my breasts press tighter to him. I could feel his heartbeat, strong and accelerating, matching the insistent throb of his cock against my inner thigh.

He didn't release me. Instead, his head dipped slightly, lips hovering near my temple. "Look at me."

I lifted my gaze. His eyes had darkened to storm clouds—desire, possession, and fierce restraint warring there. His fingers flexed on my ass, pulling me a fraction closer so my pussy dragged along his thigh again. Pleasure sparked up my spine.

"We can't stay like this," he said roughly, yet he made no move to separate us. His free hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, the touch surprisingly gentle for a man radiating such raw dominance. "Someone could walk in. See my little girl like this—skirt up, dripping on my leg."

The filthy words, spoken in that calm, authoritative voice, made me clench. A fresh rush of arousal leaked from me. I bit my lip to stifle a whimper.

Alex's nostrils flared. He felt it too. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. Then, louder, controlled: "You're hurt. Let me take you somewhere private to check that knee."

It was a lie. We both knew it.

He finally eased me back onto my feet, but kept one arm around my waist, steadying me as my weak legs threatened to buckle. My dress fell back into place, but the evidence remained: flushed skin, hardened nipples visible through the thin fabric, and the unmistakable damp spot I'd left on his trousers.

As we moved toward the inner lounge area, This was only the beginning.