A few days later, I walk into the gym as Rory’s doing bench presses while a trainer spots him. His eyes meet mine from the bench.
“One thousand and one,” he manages as I walk past, pushing the bar up. “One thousand and two.”
I burst out laughing. He sets the bar on the rack, swings up to sitting, and gives me a broad grin.
God, I’m in so much trouble. When I’m not thinking about him on his knees, licking me, I’m thinking about running with him through Stanley Park. Or about him talking about his mom with that look on his face that breaks my fucking heart, like he misses her. Like he’s lost without her. My heart aches.
Or about the way his features hardened when his dad called.
Protective anger slices through me. I’d love to meet his dad and rip him to shreds. So what if he’s a Canadian hockey legend? I have a feeling he’s the voice in Rory’s head when Rory says things like food is fuel, beer is inflammatory, and I’m only worth what my body can do for me.
Rory deserves so much better than Rick Miller.
“Can we take five?” Rory asks the trainer, who nods.
He walks over to where I’m preparing for my session with Connor and sits on the wooden box I just set down. My stomach flips upside down with excited anticipation. Ever since we messed around, I’ve been waiting for him to bring it up.
“What are you doing tonight?” he asks. “Let’s go for dinner.”
I used to find his arrogance annoying. So why do I now find it hot? And why am I wearing more of the lingerie he sent? “I have plans.”
He glances at Connor, who just walked into the gym for our session, and stands, stepping into my space. “Give me a kiss,” he says to me.
I feel us being watched, which was the point of the whole thing, but my stomach does another barrel roll at the idea of touching him.
When his fingers trace my jaw, I’m done for. I bend toward him like a vine reaching for the sun.
He kisses me with gentle care, soft and sweet, pulling me against his chest. His scent is in my nose, all around me, surrounding me, and every muscle eases as I lean into him. He’s too fucking tall and my neck is almost at a ninety-degree angle, but I don’t care.
He smiles against my lips, presses one more kiss to my mouth, and looks down at me with affection like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen.
“Let me take you for dinner,” he says again, and I picture all the things we could do after dinner. Things like the other night, with his head between my legs. Maybe he’d let me touch him, and I’d get to hear what Rory Miller actually sounds like when he comes.
Maybe we’d skip dinner altogether.
No, I scold myself. It was just the one time, regardless of how much I’ve been thinking about it.
“I can’t.” I blink, clearing my head, refocusing my thoughts. My skin prickles, and I know Connor’s watching and waiting for our session to start. “Really, I can’t tonight. My parents are in town.”
He looks at me, waiting.
“What?”
“Invite me.”
“Rory. It’s just my parents.” And Pippa, Jamie, and Jamie’s mom, Donna.
“I know. I’ve met them.”
Right. New Year’s last year, when he and a bunch of other players crashed on my parents’ living room floor.
My parents think we’re actually dating, though, and Rory getting close with my family feels real. I still don’t know what this is between us.
“I can just say you’re busy.”
“No.” He frowns. “I’d like to see them. I like your dad, and I didn’t get to talk much with your mom. It would be nice to get to know her.” His brow arches. “This is what I want.”
“Hmm?”
“I won.” His eyes flash with heat like he’s reliving me riding his face. “We agreed that if I won, I could have whatever I want.”
I let out a laugh of disbelief. “This is what you want?” Of all the things he could ask for?
“This is what I want.”
He’s wearing his soft, sweet, Hazel is so cute smile, and I’m struck by how much I like this one. How much I’m going to miss it when we’re done with this.
Fuck.
I shake my head because I don’t know what to make of this guy sometimes. A laugh slips out of me.
“Fine. Rory, would you like to join us for dinner?”
A broad smile stretches across his handsome face, and I feel like I’ve won something, because I love that look.
CHAPTER 36
HAZEL
“Dream hockey team,” my dad says to Rory in the restaurant that night. “Go.”
Rory leans in with a serious expression, and I smile. “Anyone?”
“Anyone,” my dad confirms. “Alive, dead, or fictional.”
Rory lists a few hockey players, and my dad’s nodding with approval. “Tate Ward,” Rory adds.
My dad looks surprised. “Didn’t expect that.”
“Fastest slapshot in history.”
My dad whistles. “I remember. It’s a shame he only played for Vancouver for half a season.”
“I know.” Rory’s eyes land on my empty water glass before he refills it from the pitcher, still listening while my dad and Jamie talk about their dream teams. A moment later, his hand lands on my thigh, warm and heavy.
He’s wearing a navy blue knit sweater that stretches across his broad shoulders and dress slacks that fit his toned thighs and ass. Except for the team dinners, he’s usually in athletic clothes, but tonight, he dressed up. He made an effort, I realize with a warm twist in my stomach. There’s product in his hair. He smells nice, fresh and clean. He looks so frustratingly handsome, and he’s trying to make a good impression on my family.
Across the table, Pippa meets my gaze with a little smile, and I look away fast. If she finds out how things have been changing between me and Rory, I’ll never hear the end of it, and convincing her that this whole thing is a charade will be even more impossible.
“You’ve been playing differently,” my dad notes, and Rory’s fingers tense on my leg.
“Yeah.” Rory shifts.
“It’s not a bad thing,” my dad adds. “You’re captain now. It’s only natural that your style will change.”
“You think?” Rory asks, and my heart breaks.
Rick Miller can burn in hell for the way he’s bruised Rory’s confidence, but the encouraging smile my dad gives him pushes all my protective rage out of the way, and I just feel grateful.
My hand lands on Rory’s and when he glances at me, I give him a little smile.
The guys keep talking, and my mom nudges me. “Rory’s very nice.”
I smile again. “Yeah. He is.”
Jamie’s mom Donna leans forward with a cheeky smile. “I always knew you two would get together, Hazel. In high school, Rory would talk nonstop about this tutor of his.”
Warmth creeps up my neck and I hide a smile. It feels like he belongs here with all of us tonight, and I like it too much.
“He’s a catch,” my mom whispers, and the apples of her cheeks pop. “But you’re a catch, too.”