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The arena roars with noise, and ecstasy whistles through my veins as the goal horn blows. Lights flash, sirens blare, and the fans jump up and down.
“Fuck yeah, buddy!” Owens crows as we crowd him, and I laugh at his excitement.
On the bench, Ward gives me a firm nod of approval, then my gaze goes to Hartley, where she’s sitting beside Pippa and looking at me with pleased surprise, like she just saw a new side of me.
I think I did, too, and I like who I found.
CHAPTER28
HAZEL
Something’sdifferent about Rory when he walks into the Filthy Flamingo after the game.
He’s lighter, more relaxed, and there’s an easy tilt to his mouth that I mirror as he makes his way to me.
“Hi.” My gaze flicks up to his black baseball hat, turned backward. Against his ash-blond hair and bright blue eyes, the effect is intoxicating. “Great game.”
“Thanks.” He steps into my space. “Now be a good fake girlfriend, Hartley, and let me kiss you.”
His lips are gentle, soft, and sweet, and my body relaxes against him. The bar fades away, and there’s just the scrape of stubble under my fingers and the tickle of his breath on my cheek. My other hand flattens against his firm chest. His hoodie is so soft, and I wonder what it would feel like to wear it. Every inhale floods my system with his dizzying scent of clean laundry and body wash.
I forget we’re in the bar. I forget this is fake.
When Rory Miller kisses me, I forget what it’s like to have my heart broken.
He nips my bottom lip, and I pull back before he can deepen the kiss and truly shatter my senses. My face is flushed, and when his finger slides to the pulse point on my neck, his gaze flares with interest as he feels my racing heart rate.
I like him. This is bad.
Also, I’m wearing the lingerie he sent, even though I said I wouldn’t.
Bad. So bad. Very, very bad.
“Hartley,” he murmurs in a teasing tone. “Nuns kiss with more tongue than that.” He arches a knowing brow.
He’s goading me, but it’s working, and I fist the front of his hoodie and pull him back to me.
This time, I don’t hold back. I kiss him as if that FaceTime call was real. He props an arm on the pillar behind me as I taste him, and when I suck on the tip of his tongue, a low, desperate groan rumbles from his chest, vibrating against my fist still holding his hoodie. Urgent, insistent need hums through my blood as his free hand grasps the hair at the back of my head. He tilts my head back to open me up more, and between my legs, arousal gathers.
I didn’t expect to like him pulling my hair so much.
“Better?” I whisper, looking up into his eyes.
“Yeah.” His breathing is ragged, pupils blown wide. His gaze flicks behind me and his expression turns wicked. “McKinnon.”
I stiffen. I forgot he was here.
Rory tilts his chin at Connor. “You should get a better drink. It doesn’t look like you like that one.”
Connor’s expression looks like a storm cloud, but Rory’s already pulling me over to the table with the others. Pippa and Jamie are at a bigger table than normal, and sitting with Hayden are his friends, Kit and Darcy. Kit Driedger plays for Calgary, the team Vancouver played tonight, and Darcy is his girlfriend from when all three of them met in university.
“Hey,” Rory says to Kit with a playful grin. They played together last season. “Only Vancouver players allowed in here.”
Everyone rolls their eyes. “Like that ever stopped you,” I tell him, and he chuckles and shakes Kit’s hand.
“Good game tonight, Driedger.”
“You, too,” Kit says with a nod.
