Page 66 of Home Game

I headed out toward my closet, pulling in a long breath. After the worst had happened, I had realized how stupid I had been since meeting Storm. I’d thought of him as an obstacle, as someone who stood between me and my goals, someone who actively wanted to fuck with me and ruin my dreams.

Now, one of those dreams was already ruined. And it hadn’t been his fault at all. I only saw Storm for who he really was, now, and it was like having a blindfold pulled away from my eyes.

How could I have been so blind? I wanted to know everything about Storm from the moment he’d gotten so vulnerable with me talking about his father. I had a million more questions to ask him about his past.

It was like the real me was back again.

The Emmett Waycott who really did get along with anyone.

Who could make friends with Storm—could reallywantto make friends with him—and see him like I saw everyone else.

Someone even more special than everyone else, really.

I grabbed spare clean clothes for him and headed back to the bathroom. When I walked in, he was stripping off the last of his clothes, turned toward the tub. His ass was perfect, of course,but even the planes of muscle on his back and the sides of his body were outrageously good.

And if my cock had been at half-mast before, it was fully hard now.

God damn, it was really like catching sight of an Olympian.

“Your body is incredible,” I blurted out. “Sorry. Not trying to objectify you.”

“Please do,” he said, turning forward toward me and showing off his cock.

I swallowed. Even when his cock wasn’t hard, it was so long and thick. Resting there against the side of his thigh and making my fucking mouth water.

Heat rushed through me. I went to set down the towel and spare clothes on the teakwood bench beside the tub.

I cleared my throat. “Take as long as you want in here. Feel at home, Storm. I hope it’s as relaxing as you need.”

“Wait a minute,” he said. “You’re not getting in with me?”

My heart lurched.

He wasn’t just adorable. He had himself wrapped around my heart, just with one sweet look.

It’s one thing to enjoy kissing him. It’s another to fall for him.

Falling for Storm Rosling would be like wishing for the impossible. Not going to happen.

Wishes like that only lead to hurt.

“This was just for you,” I said. “I wanted you to feel comfortable, and relax.”

“You need to relax too, though,” he protested.

“I didn’t know if you’d want—”

“Ireally want,” he said forcefully. “I want you, Emmett.”

Lava flooded through me.

If I had a dime for each of the lonely nights I’d had over the past couple of years, wishing and hoping that anyone,ever, could say something like that to me again.

“You don’t know what you want,” I said, my voice coming out a little broken, like evenIdidn’t believe what I was saying.

“Fuck. Off,” he said slowly, his voice dropping lower. “I think I’ve considered it plenty by now, Emmett, and I don’t think I’m straight. I want you every fucking time I see you.”

I swallowed past a tightness in my throat as he took a step closer to me. “You shouldn’t want me.”

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