Page 77 of Home Game

No matter how much money or fame I had now, Emmett knew what I’d come from.

We could have hot sex, but could it ever be anything but that?

Christ, I was getting ahead of myself.

Emmett made a small, satisfied sighing sound in my arms, and I heard the sound of his breathing change. He was asleep. Asleep, and so perfect, and good Lord I was screwed, because I really, actually was starting to like him, and it was impossible to deny any of it, now.

I spun the thought around in my mind for minutes and minutes, feeling like I was in limbo.

But then I felt his body up against mine, breathing gently. So good. So fuckingsweet.

I had to break free, if I was ever going to truly live.

The same thought from earlier today lit up like a neon sign in my mind: what the hell else did I have to prove?

I’d spent a lifetime trying to prove something. Who I was, or what I was worth.

But maybe I didn’t have to prove anything to Emmett.

Fuck it.

Sure, it was almost certain that whatever was between me and him would be fleeting. But while I had this—this perfect mix of fierce passion and genuine goodness, thissexy incredible personthat was in my arms—I was going to make the most of it.

I was going to treat Emmett like a goddamn king. Then maybe, years down the line when he was falling asleep in the arms of some posh lawyer or bank executive, he’d at least remember how good his short time together with a football player was.

If I was bound to just be a memory, I was going to be a good one.

17

EMMETT

I woke up feeling like I was in a cloud.

Memories of last night floated through me like hazy dreams: the beautiful snow, the bath, and then every little moment with Storm, flooding in with a rush of warmth.

It had been one of the hottest nights of my life. I’d felt closer to him than I knew I could—closer to him than I’d ever really felt with anyone, even though that was a crazy thing to imagine.

I shifted under the covers and felt the warm bulk of the side of his body, right there next to me. His words from last night hit me:I want you to claim me, Emmett. Like I fucking belong to you.

The things that had slipped out of his mouth last night… I couldn’t let myself think about it for too long, because my brain and my heart and my cock were going to go places they definitely shouldn’t go.

And then, moments later, I felt the inevitable dread start to pool in the pit of my stomach. Like there was an invisible noose being tied around my neck, and I knew that later today, it would be pulled tight.

I had to go into work and face Cutmore. Face my boss and talk to him about why the Racks deal fell through, and try to somehow salvage my standing.

The clock on my bedside table read 7:06 a.m.

Not enough sleep. Not even close. But there was no way I was going to be able to sleep anymore now, and I knew I had to head into the office sooner or later and bite the bullet with Cutmore.

I tried to slide out of bed without making noise or shaking the bed.

It would be easier this way. I could slip out without being noticed and Storm would be able to get out of here without any awkward chit-chat.

Because if I knew anything, it was that after a night like last night, Storm was probably going to want to high-tail it out of here. He was probably going to slowly talk to me less and less.

I had no more buttons for him to push.

The Racks deal had fallen through, and he’d had his fun in bed with me, taking things further than either of us ever imagined. I wasn’t going to hold his interest for much longer, and it would be easier to accept that now.

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