Page 41 of Home Game

Except he was like some fancy, pampered, privileged prince, and I was a beast.

If thiswerea fighting ring, he’d stand no chance.

“Call me that again,” he challenged me, his voice even and calm.

“Liar,” I said, lingering on the word and holding his gaze firmly. Because fuck backing down.

Suddenly it felt like my body lit up from within. Adrenaline, ferocity, anger, and desire, too. I was too aware of the fact that he was shirtless now, and that he looked way too damn good in the low, glowing light. So he had real muscle under all his stupid expensive clothes, apparently.

Was he actually going to try to punch me?

Would I like it if he did?

And why couldn’t I look at him without desire gripping me into some fucked-up chokehold that wouldn’t let go? I did want to fight him, but I couldn’t tell what else I wanted.

Too much. I was so filled with purewantingthat I could barely believe I was actually standing here looking at him shirtless, like some fevered fantasy that my mind must have been cooking up.

“Why are you offering me help, anyway?” he finally said.

“Because I saw the look in your eyes earlier tonight when I asked you to come back to my place with me,” I said, lifting an eyebrow. “It’s your favorite little time of the year, and you’re lonely.”

“Shut up.”

“Yet you won’t even let me hang a fucking lantern for you.”

“You were just trying to push my buttons, asking me to come home with you,” he said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you don’t really want me,” he said, raising his voice as his eyes flared wide again. “You don’t really want me,” he repeated.

He may as well have socked me right in the chest.

My heart squeezed, hearing the silent defeat in his tone.

There was something real about it. More real than all of the bluffing he usually tried to pull around me. He soundedlost, almost.

Had I really had that effect on him? Was Emmett really so confused about me?

My heart was pounding. The faint sound of the evening crickets just began to fill the air, and even though the air had become chilly, my skin was still burning hot.

I was confused, too. But right now I didn’t think I cared much.

“You think I don’t want you?” I asked.

He swallowed. “I know you don’t.”

I reached out toward his good arm, grabbing his hand and pulling him forward toward me. I was tired of pussyfooting around. Tired of waiting. I needed to touch him, needed to show him how I meantexactlywhat I told him, like I needed the fucking air I breathed.

This time, he kissed me again before I even made a move toward his face.

He pressed his lips to mine, shoving forward like he was trying to claim me.

Please. Yes.

Claim me.

Do whatever the fuck you want to me.

---