The Fake Out (Vancouver Storm, #2)

“That he’s going to call in a favor to keep me.”


She wraps me in a tight hug, and I relax into her as it hits me that I won’t have to leave her.

“Thank god,” she whispers, and I nod, rubbing her back.

“Miller, Hartley,” Ward calls from his office. “Let’s go.”

Hazel shoots me a confused look and I take her hand, pulling her into the office. Once we’re seated, Ward clears his throat.

“McKinnon has been sent back to the minors.”

Hazel stiffens. That’s why he wasn’t there tonight. I figured he was still benched.

“Because he tried to kiss me?” she asks.

Ward lets out a heavy sigh. “No, but I should have made the call when that happened.” He glances between us. “This doesn’t leave this room, but he was the inside source who started the rumors. There were no offers until the rumors started.”

“Shit,” I murmur.

“Yeah,” he says, unimpressed. “Shit. He wasn’t the right fit for the team from day one but I thought,” he gestures at me, “with the progress you were making, maybe he would, too. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, and I thought a new group of guys he could learn from would push him to change.” He rubs his jaw. “But no. My gut said he wasn’t a good fit but I ignored it.” He shakes his head in regret and frustration. “I’m sorry to both of you.”

“It’s okay.” Hazel’s mouth twists. “It’s behind us.”

He gives her a terse nod, and I wonder how long this is going to weigh on him. Hazel’s hand slips into mine, and we smile at each other.

“It’s late,” Ward says, glancing at our joined hands. “Go home.”

We say goodnight and I pull Hazel out of his office. We walk my dad to his car, and he gives me a quick, uncertain hug before climbing into the driver’s side.

Hazel and I watch as he drives away, and she looks up at me with all the love and affection I’ve been searching for my whole life.

“Rory. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, baby.” My chest beats with pride and elation. “Let’s go home.”

I’m exhausted, she’s exhausted, and I intend to keep her in bed for at least twelve hours straight.

She nods, smiling, leaning on me. “Let’s go home.”





CHAPTER 82





HAZEL





The next morning, weak winter sun filters in through the windows of Rory’s bedroom while we lie in bed. I’m lying on him, listening to his heartbeat as his chest rises and falls with his steady breathing.

“Move in with me,” he murmurs as I trail my fingers up and down his flat stomach. The dragon tattoo on his ribs is mostly healed.

I lift my head and look into his crushing blue eyes, a knot of emotion in my throat. “You think?”

He nods.

“It’s soon.” I bite my lip.

“Is it?” A smile quirks up on his mouth. “It doesn’t feel too soon to me.”

I picture myself living here, waking up beside Rory every day. The images are seamless and filled with joy.

“Yeah.” My brow wrinkles. “I guess you’re right.”

Excitement whistles through me as I let my imagination run wild: hosting dinners with our friends and family, curling up on the couch together, sitting in the hot tub on the patio overlooking the city and telling each other about our day.

My gaze comes to him, and I smile. “Okay.”

“Just like that?” His eyes spark with teasing surprise. “Okay? I don’t even need to convince you?”

“Nope.” I grin wider. “I’m in. I’m all in.”

His eyes warm with affection. “Finally.”

My heart squeezes, and I give him a soft kiss.

“Are you sore from yesterday’s game?” I ask.

“A little.”

“Turn over.”

Rory groans as he rolls onto his stomach, and I sit on top of him, kneading up and down his spine, searching for muscle tightness. Between his shoulder blades, the muscles are tense and knotted.

“There.” I dig my thumb into the tight muscle.

His low, tortured groan is muffled by the pillow. “You’re evil.”

“Shut up and take it,” I say, laughing, and I can see him grinning.

“I love it when you’re mean to me, Hartley.”

I bring my lips to his back and give him another soft, affectionate kiss. “I know.”

He lets me rub his back for about sixty seconds before he flips over with a mischievous look. I straddle his hips, running my hands up and down his hard chest, and beneath me, he’s fully erect.

“Bet I can make you come without touching your clit.”

I let out a high laugh of disbelief. “Your ego is ridiculous, Miller.”

His brows go up, and that teasing spark in his eyes sends heat racing through me. “Aren’t you a little curious? Where’s that competitive spirit, Hartley?”

He pulls my t-shirt off, leaving me in just my panties. His eyes heat as his hands cover my breasts, callouses scraping over my skin and making me shiver in delight.

“Perfect tits,” he murmurs, staring at me with hunger.

The way he toys with my nipples goes straight to my clit. Arousal stirs, dampening my panties.

“What’s the bet?” I ask, trailing my finger over his ridged chest and stomach. “Anything you want?”

He shakes his head and pulls me to him, kissing my neck.

“I already have everything I want. This one’s just to prove you wrong.”

Holding me against him, he pulls my panties aside and drags his fingers over my seam. Pleasure arcs through me, and I moan against his strong shoulder.

“I already have everything I want, too.” My voice is thin as heat gathers between my legs.

“I know, baby.” He pushes a big finger inside me and my muscles clench on him. “Hazel,” he says like a curse. “You’re so wet.”

His lips find mine and our kiss is frantic, desperate, consuming. I’m overwhelmed with sensations—with his stubble against my face, his tongue stroking mine, his second finger pushing inside me, making my head spin, and his hard, strong body beneath mine. His cock pressing against me with urgency.

“Need you,” I mutter, and my hands move clumsily as I reach for his cock, pushing his boxers down.

He nods, and my panties disappear. He lines himself up, and my heart jumps at the look in his eyes—so full of love and need and awe.

I sink down onto him and we moan together. The sharp stretch around his thick length sends fire through my body.

“You’re everything to me,” I sigh as I sink farther, until he’s in to the hilt. The first burst of sparks goes off at the base of my spine, and I drag my teeth over his chest as my pulse whooshes in my ears.

“I love you so fucking much,” he grits out, jaw tight, and with his hands spanning my waist, he begins to move me back and forth on his cock.

Not up and down. Back and forth, and—

“Oh, fuck.” Desire surges through me, tightening and spiraling. “Rory.”

He crooks a wicked, lazy grin up at me, watching in fascination as he moves me on him. It’s like he knows his cock is hitting the exact right spot.

“Lean forward a bit,” he whispers.

I do, and when my clit slides against his base, my jaw goes slack.

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