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Did he think about me wearing it when he bought it? My face flushes.
“I bought it in the hotel room in front of McKinnon. Pissed him right off, Hartley.”
The bras are nearly transparent; my nipples would be visible. Heat thrums between my legs. I can totally picture the way Rory’s eyes would darken and how his lips would part, seeing me in this.
God, that would be so fun. To get him all worked up like that. I’d tease him until he begs.
What? What am Italkingabout?
I clear the thoughts from my head. “Okay, that’s actually genius. But you didn’t have to actually buy it.”
I brush my fingertips over the fabric. This would feel like a dream to wear, I’m sure.
“Hartley, how many times do we need to go over this? I like buying stuff for you.”
My eyes go to the crystal dragon on my dresser, twinkling in the dim lamp lighting. “I’m not wearing it.”
That would be weird if I wore it. Even if he never found out, it would be weird.
“What’s the matter, you don’t like it?”
“It’s not that—” I break off. “Whether I like it or not isn’t the point.”
“So you do like it.” I can hear his grin, and another wave of heat pulses through me. “Should I start sending it to your office instead?”
Against my will, a laugh bursts out of me. “No.”
“Okay, okay.” He chuckles. “I’ll just keep sending it to your apartment, then.”
“There’s going to be more?”
“Oh yeah.” He whistles. “Lots.”
My lips move, but no sound comes out, because I don’t even know what to say.
“I feel like you’re going to try to argue, so I’m going to say good night now, Hartley. Good night.”
“Good night.”
“Try not to think about me when you’re trying it on.”
He hangs up, and another laugh of disbelief scrapes out of me as I stare at my phone, and then at the soft, lacy contents of the box.
I’m not wearing the lingerie he sent, no matter how much I want to.
CHAPTER27
RORY
The Vancouver fansbrace themselves as the other team takes a shot on Streicher. He blocks it, and Volkov steals the puck, passing to me before I bring it to the other end of the ice.
The fans start hollering, and the energy in the arena intensifies as I approach the net with the puck.
I have a clear shot on the net, and I should take it.
Owens is open, though. Our eyes meet, and I think about the pickup league. I pass to him. It’s the same flare of surprise I saw in Ed’s eyes, but he doesn’t waste a second.
He shoots, he scores.
