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CHAPTER23
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?
