15. Emmett

15

EMMETT

By the time we got back to my place, Storm was shivering. As we walked through my front door, I couldn't keep my eyes off of him, wondering how the hell we'd gotten to this point.

I'd been completely numb outside, sitting there on that bench, before Storm had showed up.

The Racks deal falling through felt like so much more than just one bad business misstep. It felt like failure. Failure to do what I'd set out to do. Trying to do everything right, to never miss any detail, and still falling flat on my face. And it felt like a failure to the memory of my father, a man who seemed like Superman, who could make any business deal happen.

Then Storm had appeared beside me.

And finally, I could think about something else .

Something that wasn't business or failure or the bone-deep ache of how badly I missed my father, and how badly I wished he were still here.

Storm had brought me back down to Earth. It was causing some misguided surge of affection to well up inside me, all aimed directly at him.

"You have no fucking idea how glad I am to be inside," he said, doing a full-body shivering motion that somehow looked fucking adorable even though he was a tall, built man.

I reached out and rubbed his arms, trying to help heat him up. When he glanced back at me and gave me his dimpled half-smile, it felt like my heart was being tugged directly toward him.

Good God .

How had I never noticed how kind he could look, when I didn't feel like I was his rival?

Or how he had a little dusting of freckles at the top of his cheeks, so slight it could almost go unnoticed?

Or how when he looked at someone—looked at me —all I wanted was for him to pull me in and kiss me again and erase every awful thought from my mind?

Maybe it was all in my head. I was broken down and vulnerable, after today, and maybe anyone could have made me feel this sense of longing.

But I didn't think so. I was pretty sure Storm made me feel something completely different than most people.

Just act normal.

What is acting normal, around Storm Rosling?

"Look who's here," I said, glancing back toward my back doors and seeing a familiar fuzzy face in the yard.

"Oreo, you little rascal," Storm said. "It's cold out there. Can she come inside?"

"Of course," I said.

I let her in and immediately she started playing around with Pepper in the living room, sharing toys and playing tug-of-war.

"Fuck. Emmett, can we shut that door?" Storm said, and I looked over to see him shivering again.

I slid it shut and motioned for him to follow me upstairs.

"I've seen you get tackled by men who look like Mack trucks, yet you can't stand a chilly day. Kind of adorable," I said as we walked up the stairs toward my master bath.

Did I usually tease him like that? I meant it more affectionately than anything, but suddenly I was second-guessing everything, and I hoped he didn't think it was an insult. I reached out again as we walked, rubbing at his arm.

"Was a lot more than just chilly out there," he said, shuddering. "Might be near freezing outside. You had a whole suit on and all I had was shorts and a T-shirt."

I led him through the upstairs hallway, across my bedroom, and toward the master bathroom.

Storm whistled.

"This isn't a bathroom, it's a bath suite ," he said. "Fit for a king."

I reached over the big tub and pulled the tap, letting hot water start to pour out.

"Are you more of a lavender kind of guy? Mint and eucalyptus? Rose? Vanilla?" I asked, pulling out the basket where I kept different bath bombs, liquid bubbles, and salts. I leaned over close to him to show him the basket, and our arms touched.

Because apparently I couldn't go more than ten seconds without touching him somehow, now.

Like the only time things felt right for me today was when I felt my skin on his skin.

His playful, devious smile spread over his lips. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute," he said. "You have multiple different types? There you were acting surprised that I liked taking baths, meanwhile you have a whole selection of scents and options, here?"

"Never said I didn't like them, too."

He hummed, picking out the amber vanilla scented bubble bath. "This one looks amazing."

"One of my favorites," I said. "I'll go grab you a towel. I think I've got some oversized sweatpants and a shirt that should fit, too."

"Surprised that even your sweatpants aren't perfectly tailored," he said, looking in my eyes with a teasing look.

A teasing look that went straight to my cock, even though he was just messing with me, talking about sweatpants, for God's sake.

I was way too attracted to this man.

"Sometimes things are good when they're loose," I said, turning toward the door.

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 really want to 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—"

"I really 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 even I didn'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."

"Don't think I agree with you there," he said softly. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't want you."

"Damaged goods," I said helplessly, looking up to meet his eyes.

"If that's what you are, then I'll have some good company," he said in a low voice, his eyes smoldering as they held my gaze.

I didn't know how it was possible for one comment to shake free years of emotion from me, but sometimes, Storm seemed magic, like that. This man who'd at first seemed like he hated me to my core actually saw me to my core, and he still wanted me.

He was still here.

"Fine," I whispered, feeling that familiar magnetic pull toward him stronger than ever. "I'll get in the bath with you. But you have to let me have the left side jets."

A big, beautiful, playful smile came over his face. "What's so great about the left side?"

"Stronger jets."

He reached out to squeeze the side of my body. "All yours."

His hands moved toward the sides of my jacket, pulling it off for me. He draped it over the counter beside us and then undid the buttons on my shirt, one by one. When he'd taken all my clothes off and slid down my boxer briefs, my cock was so hard that it ached.

Storm looked at it, gave it a brief squeeze, and then turned to hop in the tub.

I groaned. "Tease."

"If I start touching you now, we'll never get in the bath, and I really want to get in this bath. Get in and I won't be able to keep my hands off of you, I promise."

I wasn't going to deny him that. The two of us slowly sank into the big tub, covered in bubbles.

"Fucking perfection," Storm said.

The tub was surrounded by tall windows at the side that looked out across the trees in my backyard. The sun had gone down, and the yard was dotted with small glowing lights.

There was a light wind, and as I glanced outside, I saw a few tiny, swirling white snowflakes in the air.

I gasped. "First snow of the season," I said, my heart lighting up.

"No way," he said, looking out.

"Ah. I know you hate the cold. But I love the first snow of the season."

Storm moved closer to me in the tub, his body pushing up against the side of mine. "I don't know. Maybe I'm a big fan of the first snow of the season when I'm seeing it like this."

As steam rose up from the bubble bath, more and more snowflakes began to fall outside.

"How did we end up here?" I asked wistfully, barely able to process my thoughts. "In a tub together, even though we hate each other?"

He hummed.

"Emmett. You wanted to fuck me from the moment you met me."

I paused, turning to him.

What the hell had he just said?

"No, I did not."

Storm just sank back in the tub, bubbles surrounding him as he confidently held my gaze. "You've always wanted me."

"I wanted to punch you in the face, the first few times I met you."

Something glimmered in his eyes. "Yeah. You did. But you also wanted your cock inside me."

My cock throbbed now hearing him say it. Goddamn, where did he get the cocky bravado to say things like that to me? There was no one else like him. Not that I'd ever known.

"You have a perfect body," I said. "I… noticed it, but even if I'd wanted to fuck you, it wouldn't have mattered. I knew it would never happen."

"But now look at us," Storm said, echoing what I'd said before. "Do you think about being inside me? Do you think about me being inside you? "

My cock ached as I puffed out a shallow breath.

Both.

Both. A lot of both.

"I like giving just as much as I like to take," I said. "But you're not ready for either one of those."

The snowflakes outside were falling much more rapidly now, swirling through the air. Hot condensation was forming on the windows, and I felt like I was burning up inside when Storm looked at me.

"I think we both know that's a lie," Storm murmured.

My heart slammed in my chest. "You think you could handle it?"

"You already know how hard I came when I was looking at you," he said. "Imagine how hard I'll come when I'm inside you."

My eyelids dropped as heat flooded through my body.

He slid over even closer to me in the tub, leaning against me and moving his lips close to my ear. For a moment I swore he was about to try and flip me over right then and there and try to fuck me in the bath, but instead he just leaned in, gently sucking at my earlobe.

"Storm," I said, hating how the broken sound of my voice gave away just how much I enjoyed his tongue.

"You know, there's something me and my teammates say during football games, sometimes," he murmured. The sound of his low voice near my ear was so good he may as well have been reading a damn tax return because I would definitely still get turned on by it.

"Mhm," I hummed.

All I wanted was for him to keep doing whatever he was doing.

Desperately.

And I was pretty sure I didn't care what that might mean , anymore.

"We say that when you're defending, you can't tell what the other guy is thinking until you're close to him. When he's moving. Then you can see it all in his body language."

He kissed and nipped against the edge of my ear and every cell in my body just wanted more.

"Right. Body language," I managed to say.

"I can sense it, when I'm near you," he murmured.

"Sense what?"

"What you want."

I breathed out slowly as he kissed the side of my neck. He leaned back, looking me in the eye again.

"You think you know me that well already, huh?" I asked.

"I have a lot to learn about you," he said. "But there are some things I think we already know about each other. Absolutely."

He ran his thumb across my lower lip and I let my tongue slide out against the tip of it.

"And I'm kind of easy to read, I guess," I said, already knowing the answer was a resounding yes.

His eyes were a whole world unto themselves. Blue and grey and reflecting the swirling snow outside.

I was in his trance, looking in his eyes.

He may as well have had me pinned up right against a fucking wall.

"I think you love it when we're together like this," he said, dropping his voice low as he ran his hand behind my head, lacing his fingers through my hair. "Say it. I want to hear you say it."

I swallowed hard. I knew that I wanted him with every bone in my body.

"You can't tell me what to say," I teased him.

"Yes I can."

The hint of a smile played at his lips and I knew he knew I was like his puppet on a damn string.

"I like it when we're together," I finally said, giving in.

His other hand slid down my chest and down below the water toward my stomach, and then down lower, gripping my very hard cock.

"You fucking love it."

I moaned because I couldn't help it anymore. "I love it when we're together like this. I love every second of it."

He squeezed my cock, humming in a satisfied way. "Was that so difficult?"

"You're impossible," I said, but my eyes were practically fluttering shut at how good it felt to have his hand around me.

"Fine, fine," he said. "I'll let you relax."

He let my cock go and slid back to sit next to me, looking out the window at the snow.

No, no, no.

Don't let me relax.

I instantly missed his touch. I wasn't sure which was worse: not having his hand on me or having it there while knowing I was completely in his control. A sense of urgency hit me, hard and fast.

"I want you in my bed," I said quickly, before I'd had time to consider it too deeply.

He looked back at me, playing innocent. "I thought this was just an offer for me to use your tub."

"Fuck off."

The mischievous smile returned. "You're a busy man. Don't you have work or something?"

I breathed deep, shaking my head. "Storm, I already canceled two calls and a dinner meeting I had down in Denver tonight."

He lifted his eyebrows. "What?"

"Don't make me regret saying this, but I'd rather be here with you."

He hummed and lifted his arms up above his head, stretching in a self-satisfied way. As he stretched, water droplets ran down the muscles of his arms and pecs, like he was taunting me.

"I'd love to share your bed tonight, Emmett," he said. "I'm so glad you finally asked."

"Shut. Up," I said, knowing he'd use this as an opportunity to tease me.

"So combative," he said. "Are we going to fuck in your bed, or fight?"

My cock ached. "No. I'm going to show you why there's nothing better than the first snow of the season."

He puffed out a sweet laugh, reaching over to squeeze my shoulder. "You are so cute," he said, and for once he seemed completely sincere. He didn't sound like he was teasing or sarcastic. "Your commitment to making me enjoy fall and winter is one of the cutest things about you, you know."

I felt a heat creeping up to my cheeks. Was I really blushing right now because he'd called me cute?

"You didn't like it when I sent you the fall gift basket."

"That wasn't a basket," he clarified. "It was a marble monstrosity."

I stood up, letting water rush down my body. "Take your time. I'm going to go make some hot chocolate."

His eyes were focused on my cock.

"I think I want something else a little more than hot chocolate right now," he murmured.

"My cock is yours tonight, Storm," I said. "I promise. But the kind of hot chocolate I want to make is Belgian, and it will have a good amount of whiskey in it, and if I don't have some I'm afraid I'm going to explode the moment you touch me."

He hummed. "Would that be so bad?"

"You could make me come in three seconds," I said. "And I've already been embarrassed enough, today. I'll be right back up with some drinks."

I got out and toweled off, and as I headed downstairs I realized how badly I'd needed a moment to pause.

Not because I didn't want to do things with Storm, but because I wanted it so, so fucking badly.

When was the last time I'd let anyone in like this? Let someone share my space, let them see the raw core of my feelings? The last time I'd done it, I'd gotten burned so badly the scars were still on me two years later.

He just wants to fuck.

Not everything has to be so goddamn serious.

He's a playboy who's gotten a taste for cock, and you're just the one who is in front of him.

As I heated up the hot chocolate, thoughts swirled in and out of my mind just as wildly as the flakes of snow outside. How had my wires gotten so crossed? I'd begun to feel something more affectionate for Storm.

Something almost like a crush.

I took my time making the hot chocolate. I turned the burner on its lowest setting, pushed my thoughts away. Oreo and Pepper were still here downstairs, tuckered out by all the playing they were doing earlier. They were both curled up and snoozing in Pepper's big dog bed at the edge of the living room.

I let my brain and my cock settle before heading back upstairs with the drinks on a tray.

Before I entered my bedroom, I half expected to see Storm trying to mess with me in one of his playful ways. Maybe he'd be spread eagle on the bed, showing everything to me. Maybe he'd still be in the tub, stroking his cock.

But when I walked past the doorway into the low light of my bedroom, I saw Storm cozy in the spare clothes I'd lent him, lying down on my bed.

His eyes were closed.

And, most shocking of all, he was breathing evenly, and was already in a light, peaceful sleep.

My heart squeezed a little in my chest. I'd never seen Storm look quite like this. So innocent and adorable again, sleeping soundly. I moved to set down the tray of hot chocolate on the credenza at the edge of my room, picking up the small teacup full of my own spiked hot chocolate.

I was still just wearing a towel slung around my waist. I sipped the whiskey and chocolate near the windows in my room.

I wanted to get in bed next to him.

I wanted it so badly it physically hurt —an ache in my chest that was far stronger than it should have been.

But I knew what that would do to me. How easily I might associate sleeping close to him with starting to feel some sort of attachment to him. And nothing set off alarm bells in my head like that did.

I finished my small teacup of hot chocolate, went to brush my teeth and toss on a pair of shorts, and turned off the lamp at the side of my bed.

And then I quietly headed downstairs and tucked under a soft blanket on my couch, drifting to sleep alone with the window shades open toward the back yard, watching the snow start to cover the grass.