Page 16 of Home Game

“I know, right, girl?” I said, my eyes still bleary from a heavy sleep. “That doorbell sound wassooffensive.”

I scooped her up and carried her down the creaky stairs toward the front door. I could see through the windows already that there was nobody there, but as I opened the door, I saw a telltale red Porsche heading off down the driveway.

There was a wrapped-up gift tray on my doorstep. Not just a simple wicker basket full of popcorn and candy, like a normal person would use for a gift basket, but something absolutely ridiculous. It was made of marble, as far as I could tell, andit contained about ten different things,allof which were fall-themed.

Fancy fall-spiced champagne. A cinnamon-clove cold brew kit. Apple candies. Other overpriced treats.

And in front of it all, a handwritten card, written in proper cursive.

Happy first day of autumn, the most beautiful time of year. And congratulations, Storm, on your win against Miami last night, and of course, your contract with the Fixer Brothers. Cheers to a beautiful partnership. My phone number’s on the back of this card, if you ever need advice on anything. -E. Waycott

Something fizzled in my chest, and strangely, I felt a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

“That motherfucker,” I said out loud, under my breath.

What the hell was this feeling? Anger? Confusion? Intrigue? All three? He even left his phone number, clearly in hopes that I’d consult him before anything I said or posted publicly. Fat chance of me ever doing that.

All I knew was that I hadn’t felt so…challenged, in a very long time.

I see how it is, I thought to myself as I reread the note.You couldn’t prevent me from working with the Fixer Brothers, so now you’re trying to butter me up, babe?

Emmett wasn’t even just trying to butter me up.

He was trying totameme.

Oh, it’s on.

I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

Before I even thought through the process, I knew I was about to pull a stunt that was exactly what Emmett would hate: a spur-of-the-moment decision, made in haste, without giving a single fuck what anyone might think of me.

I headed back inside, hoisting up the stupidly heavy marble gift basket and putting it in my kitchen. I beelined for my backyard.

And I shoved off my shorts and stripped nude the moment I hit my lawn.

I lay back onto the picnic blanket I had out there, in the bright morning sunlight. I grabbed my phone, turned it to the camera setting, and put it on selfie mode.

I held the camera out as far as it would go, framing myself so that plenty of my cock was showing. It was thick even lying there against my thigh—I’d always been more of ashow-ernot agrow-er, and now it was my time to shine.

I snapped a few photos of my naked body. I was proud of how I looked naked. My body was one of the few things that I’d never,everbeen ashamed of. I got a few really good shots, where my muscles were on display and my cock looked great in the morning light.

And then I opened up my social media, “accidentally” posting my private nudes online.

Satisfaction flooded through me the moment I hitpost.

Pure, white-hot fucking thrill.

I basked in the sunlight, leaning back in the portion of my yard that was fully private, surrounded by tall banks of pine trees and Aspens.

About ten minutes later, I went back to my account and deleted all of the photos, so that it would look like a true accidental “leak.”

But the internet had already caught on. The photos had been shared and copied thousands and thousands of times already, and I knew damn well that there were probably already a zillion gossip blogs writing up posts about my scandalous photos.

Oopsie.

I lay on my back again, letting the sun hit my skin. God, it felt good to think of Emmett seeing those photos.

I wished I could see his reaction. Would he gasp? Clutch at his chest? Beso veryshocked at my naked body?

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