“So do you,” she gasps, and I take her mouth again.
While I’m tasting her over and over again like I won’t get another chance, my hand drifts over her, touching the sheer fabric, ghosting my fingers over her throat, her collarbone, the swells of her breasts.
Lower. Over those teasing arcs of fabric covering her cleavage. She shivers as I skim over the seam, pausing in the dip between her breasts. She arches toward me, and something pleased and smug twists deep inside me.
“Oh my god.”
Her words are a desperate whisper, and I like to think she’d whisper those words exactly that way in the seconds before I make her come. Making her react like this feels like victory. She pretends to hate me, but she’s pushing against me for more. It’s supposed to be fake, but she’s the one who kissed me.
God, she’s so sweet. So hot and slick and needy, and I’m fucking dying here, cock straining in my pants as I taste every inch of her mouth.
“It’s taking every ounce of my control not to bend you over and fuck you right now.” My voice is hoarse as I lean my forehead against hers, taking a deep breath.
She blinks up at me with a swollen mouth and a hot, glazed look to her eyes that makes me even harder, and I run my thumb over her bottom lip. Her eyelashes flutter again, and I feel a sharp pulse of need.
“And if we don’t stop, I might just do that.”
She tenses before she backs up a step, pulling out of my touch. She blinks, clearing whatever lust I saw in her eyes. “This is fake. I don’t know why I did that.”
I sink, remembering what she said in the gym when we set the terms. Don’t catch feelings.
“Yeah.” I nod stupidly.
She looks away. “Sorry.”
“No. We were just, um.” I clear my throat. “Caught up in the moment. From winning.”
“Yeah.” She nods, playing with her stack of photos. “Exactly.”
I slip my hands in my pockets, searching for my usual swaggering cockiness. If I keep acting like an awkward teenager, she’ll know how much she rattles me.
And for the first time, the prospect of something real with Hartley fucking terrifies me. Watching her walk away would crush me.
“It’s okay, Hartley.” My mouth slides up into a sly grin, and I send her a wink. “I have that effect on women.”
She snorts, and my pulse settles.
“Come on,” she says, mouth tipping up in a cool smile. “The sooner we finish dinner, the sooner you can go home and jerk off to your own reflection.”
And like that, we’re back to normal, the teasing back-and-forth we’ve always had.
CHAPTER 20
HAZEL
After dinner, a small group of us heads to the Filthy Flamingo. I’m sitting in a booth between Rory and Hayden, across from Jamie, Pippa, and Alexei. Rory’s arm drapes over the back of the booth, over my shoulders, and I can feel the heat of him along my side.
I kissed him. I don’t even think Connor saw, but I didn’t care. I just really, really wanted to kiss Rory again.
The trophy sits on the table in the middle of our group. Every time Connor looked at it during dinner, his jaw ticked in irritation. As soon as dinner was done, he left, muttering about having an early training session tomorrow. I smile to myself.
“What’s so funny, Hartley?” Rory murmurs in my ear.
“Just thinking about how we kicked Connor’s ass.” The way Rory laughed as we ran up the stairs replays in my head. His smile stretched ear to ear, boyish delight radiating from him.
I liked it, and I’m itching to see it again.
I suck in a tight breath. It’s pretend. Guys like Rory and Connor, they can have whatever and whoever they want. I’m not going to get attached.
It feels different with Rory, though, and I can’t put my finger on how. Maybe it’s that I’ve got his full attention, whereas with Connor, I was always an afterthought. My thoughts flip to earlier in the closet with the stained-glass window, how I asked if we were friends.
Rory’s fingers find my hair, playing with it. Prickles skitter down my spine when he touches the top of my shoulder.
“Have you settled on a date yet?” Hayden asks Pippa and Jamie about their upcoming wedding.
Pippa smiles, fiddling with her engagement ring, and looks at Jamie. The corner of his mouth tips up as his arm slides from her shoulder down to her waist.
“Not yet,” she says, still smiling up at Jamie. “Sometime in the spring.”
That strange pang hits my chest, the one I feel sometimes when I watch them, and my mind returns to Rory sitting beside me. The gift he got me. How he kissed me when he saw me tonight. How he kissed me upstairs in the hallway so fervently, like I was so necessary to him.
My heart gives another pleasant twang, and I rub it away.
Pippa arches an eyebrow at Hayden. “Are you bringing a date?”
His grin widens. “Nope. I’m thinking about picking up one of your cute musician friends.”
She rolls her eyes. “You dog, you.”
“I’m not a dog,” Hayden protests, laughing. “I never lead girls on. They know I’m not looking for anything serious.” He lifts a big shoulder. “It’s easier that way, with our schedules and trades and stuff.”
My brow wrinkles. I’ve always lumped him in with the rest of the hockey players who have a new hookup every week because they can.
I’m not looking for anything serious and it’s easier that way is what I say about relationships, though, and now I’m wondering what his deal is.
With my one-time-only hookup rule, if I were a guy, I’d probably be called a player, too.
“There’s something we wanted to ask you two,” Pippa tells me and Rory, and I pull my attention back to the conversation. Her hands wring in her lap. “Will you be my maid of honor, Hazel?”
Emotion stings my eyes, sharp and sweet, and I blink it away fast. For the first time, it hits me: my baby sister is getting married. She’s fallen in love with a truly great guy who loves her more than anything. A man I actually like and trust, and she’s so wildly happy.
All I ever wanted was for her to be happy.
“Of course I will,” I tell her, my voice thick. “You didn’t even need to ask.”
She shrugs, smiling. Her cheeks are pink. “I know. It’s just going to be a big day and I need you there.”
My heart clenches with love. “Come here,” I say, and Hayden and Alexei move so we can slide out of the booth.
She tackles me in a big hug, almost tripping over her dress, and I laugh into her hair, squeezing her as hard as she’s squeezing me. Since we were little, that’s how we’ve hugged each other. As tight as we can.
“Love you,” she whispers into my hair.
“Love you, too.”
We sit back down, and Rory’s hand traces the top of my shoulders. He’s watching me with a little smile, and my skin goes warm. He saw all of that. I’m not used to him seeing me all hugging and loving. I glance away, embarrassed.