The Fake Out (Vancouver Storm, #2)

“Despite your terrible mattress, Hartley, I had the best fucking sleep.” He stretches with a low, rasping groan, and my gaze snags on his defined, muscular arms, the carved lines of his pecs and abs, and—


My thighs clench. That thick length that pressed into me earlier strains against the fabric of his boxers.

I meet his eyes, and he winks. He knows exactly what I was looking at, and I don’t think he minds one bit.

My clit aches.

I have got to get out of here before I do something stupid, like take my underwear off and sit on top of him.

“I’m going to have a shower,” I manage, scampering across the room toward the bathroom door.

He shoots me that lazy, panty-melting grin, gaze dropping to my bare legs and probably part of my ass, visible from under the t-shirt, and there’s another warm squeeze between my legs. “Want company?”

With his towering height in my tiny shower? “We wouldn’t fit.”

His grin turns feral and smug. “We’d make it fit.”

Heat streaks through me, and my mind whispers just one time as my gaze lands on his straining erection again.

It would be so good with him. I know it would.

I don’t sleep with guys I know, though. I hook up once and then we part ways. I definitely don’t hook up with guys who I’m fake dating or hanging out with on a regular basis or who will be the best man in my sister’s wedding.

I slam the door closed and lean against the inside, collecting my common sense.





My blood pumps hard as I walk up to my apartment, catching my breath after my run. Moving usually helps clear my head, but today, my thoughts still slingshot around my brain.

This thing with Rory is getting away from me. We can be friends, but we can’t be more, no matter how my body responds to him, or how I feel when he lights up like he’s actually having fun for once.

I need to remember what this is for him: a chase. He wants what he can’t have, and the second he gets it, I’m old news.

“Hazel Hartley?”

Two guys wait outside my building. A delivery van is parked on the street. “That’s me.”

“Delivery for you.” He hands his electronic tablet to me. “Sign here.”

My eyes narrow. “I didn’t order anything.”

The guy glances at the tablet. “Charges went to Rory Miller.”

Of course they did. I sign the tablet, and while the delivery guys unload a new mattress and bed frame from the truck, I pull out my phone and call him.

Rory answers the phone a moment later, as I’m holding the front door open for the guys.

“Seriously?” I ask in lieu of greeting.

“You are so welcome.”

I don’t know whether to scream or laugh as I climb the stairs after them. He doesn’t seem weird about this morning, so that’s good. I can pretend if he can. “I can hear your stupid smug grin through the phone.”

“I’m not sleeping on that lumpy old mattress again.”

My mouth falls open in shock. “You’re not sleeping on the new one, either.”

Especially not after this morning.

“Hartley, I gotta go. The plane’s going to take off soon.”

“What am I supposed to—”

“The guys will take the old bed.” There’s an airport announcement in the background. “I’ll call you when we land.”

I stare at the disconnected call. That dick hung up on me.





CHAPTER 23





RORY





“What are you doing?”

In our hotel room that night, I swivel in my chair, giving McKinnon an innocent smile.

“Buying gifts for my girlfriend.” My mouth tilts. “You don’t mind, right?”

His lip curls, eyes on the lingerie website on my laptop. “I never needed to buy her that stuff.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

His smile drops, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. My curiosity piques but I turn back to the laptop, scrolling and adding things to the cart.

I think about McKinnon touching Hartley, and I feel sick. I think about him waking up wrapped around her, with his hands all over her, and I want to punch something.

She wanted to go further this morning, but something stopped her.

My hand scrubs over my face before I pick up the tiny crystal dragon I’ve been bringing with me on the road. It’s a perfect twin to hers, except hers is blue and mine is green. If she knew I had it, she’d call it a waste of money, but I find myself holding it all the time, thinking about her. I like that we both have them, like they’re friendship bracelets or walkie-talkies or something.

Just another fucking thing I can’t tell her.

Before I think about it, I’m FaceTiming her, nudging the crystal dragon out of view.

“I’m not keeping it,” she answers in my earbuds in lieu of hello.

My mouth tips up and I add more lingerie to the cart. “Yes, you are.”

I’ve never bought a woman lingerie, but picturing Hartley in these scraps of lace is like rocket fuel for my fantasies. She’d never, ever wear it, but that isn’t going to stop me from buying it for her.

There’s a rustling noise on her end, and my smile creeps higher. “Put your camera on, Hartley.”

“Umm. No.”

I’m already laughing. She sounds so guilty. “Put your camera on right now.”

Her video pops up, and I shake with laughter. “I knew it.”

She’s lying back against the pillows, grinning, and I just smile at her as a warm, liquid feeling flows through me.

“Okay. I like it. I’m lying on a cloud in heaven. Happy?”

“Extremely.”

Her eyes sparkle. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

I just shake my head, swiveling in my chair, smiling at her. Her chestnut hair cascades over the pillow, and I remember this morning, when I woke up with her tucked against me.

Jesus, that felt good, her body all warm and soft. “You’re welcome.”

“I feel like I’m not pulling my weight in this arrangement, based on how often I thank you.”

“I like doing this stuff for you.”

There’s a long pause where we just look at each other, and my pulse beats harder with the worry that I showed my cards. My gaze roams her face—her lips curved into a small smile, her eyes sparkling in the low lighting of her apartment.

Does she feel the same?

“So, what are we going to do tonight to piss him off?” she asks.

Last night flashes in my head, the way she shrieked with laughter as we ran from Owens. I get an idea.

“Hartley,” I say in a scolding tone, glancing over my shoulder at McKinnon on his bed. “We can’t. I have a roommate.”

“Rory.” Fuck, I love it when we use first names. “What are you doing?”

I widen my eyes at her—play along—and she sighs, still smiling. “Just watch the sex tape we made. It’ll have to do until I get home.”

“Oh my god.” She shakes her head, but her face is going red. “Unbelievable.”

“Alright,” I relent. “I can’t say no to you.” I pick the laptop up and walk to the bathroom, pausing at the door. “You might want to clear out, McKinnon. Hartley and I need some alone time.”

He shoots me a dirty look.

“Uh. Miller? What are we doing?” Hazel asks in my ear.

I close the bathroom door behind me and wiggle my eyebrows at her. FaceTime sex, I mouth.

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