Page 76 of Home Game

What now?

Did I still matter to him, beyond being a fit body that he could enjoy a good fuck with?

And what the hell was this feeling? It was something like a crush, but almost more nerve-wracking. I’d never given a fuck what anyone thought of me before, but now I desperately wanted Emmett to…

To like me. To want me. To be with me, and notstopbeing with me.

“Lot of snow out there,” I said, feeling like I needed to break the silence but suddenly feeling so unsure of what to say.

This was exactly the kind of emotion I always avoided feeling. That I’dsuccessfullyavoided feeling, for most of my adult life.

Flustered. Embarrassed. All of the things I thought I had always thought I was soabove.

“A winter wonderland,” Emmett agreed. “Your most hated thing, right?”

I pulled in a breath, seeing the way Emmett’s eyes looked as he glanced out at the snow and then back at me. He looked more serene than I’d ever seen him. Even on a day where he’d experienced his greatest disappointment, he was able to look likethat.

Happy.

Here, with me.

It made my heart do a backflip in my chest, and also made me feel all mushy-vulnerable all over again, the same way he’d been making me feel a lot, lately.

“Maybe the snow isn’t so bad,” I said. “Not when I’m under cozy covers inside, at least.”

He looked down at me. “Fuck, Storm, you have goosebumps again. I’m sorry. I’m so used to the cold. Come upstairs and get under the blankets?”

My heart was doing a backflip before, but now it may as well have done a damn pole-vaulted triple axel.

You still want me?

I immediately felt a hot streak of shame for having the thought at all. I wasn’t supposed to care if anyone wanted me. I’d arranged my whole life around being independent, outspoken, and not giving a damn what anyone thought. Because for so long,no onewanted me. All I could do was hold up a proud middle finger in response.

But when it came to Emmett, I cared. I cared what he thought, about me and about anything else in the world. I’d fought with him so much only because I didn’t want to care about what he thought, and because I didn’t know how to act otherwise.

There was no denying it anymore.

I really,reallyliked that he still wanted to invite me up to his room, even if it was just to sleep next to me.

And I loved the way he looked at me.

“I wouldn’t mind getting cozy,” I said.

He held out his hand to me and I joined him upstairs. The moment we were under the covers together and I was surrounded by his scent, I couldn’t hold back. I slid over toward his side of the bed, wrapping my arms around him tightly and pulling him close.

The warm bulk of his body against mine was everything I needed.

Thoughts swirled through my mind. There were so many things I wanted to say, but couldn’t make myself.

I think I want you too much.

I might want more than just a fun hookup, and I don’t know what that means.

I know you might still hate me a little, Emmett, but… how much?

Could he ever see me as more than a hot hate-fuck? As more than a meathead football player that happened to have a good body and also want his cock?

It was still true that people like Emmett didn’t usually associate with people like me. Guys like him kept company with… heirs to corporations. Wealthy aristocrats. People who were Ivy League graduates and hung out on yachts and came from the long lines of wealth that I’d always hated, with every fiber of my being.

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