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“How many times have you jerked off thinking about me?” I ask with a challenging smile. He’ll never—
“Too many to count.” His eyes flare with heat, and his eyebrows lift once.See?his eyes say. “After the FaceTime call.”
Our gazes hold for a beat before I turn away, stomach swooping and dipping. His arm is heavy over my shoulders, a warm, comforting weight.
“I couldn’t help myself, Hartley.” His lids fall halfway as he grins with whatever memory he’s replaying. “The noises you made just—”
“Burger and onion rings.” Jordan sets a plate in front of him and I pull back and clear my head with a deep breath.
“Thanks, Jordan,” Rory calls after her before he takes a huge bite of his burger, closes his eyes, and lets out a guttural moan of pleasure.
“Holy shit,” he groans, and I wonder if that’s what he would look like if I were kneeling between his knees, running my tongue up and down his cock.
I look away, shoving the image from my mind, but I’m forced to sit here, watching and listening as Rory basically comes in his pants eating this burger.
“Onion rings,” he says with reverence after he eats the first one, shaking his head.
“Yeah.” I steal one and dunk it in ketchup. “They’re good, huh?”
“Mhm.” He looks down at his food, pausing. “I shouldn’t be eating all of this. It’s inflammatory.”
I think about my mom, and how she never lets herself eat dessert. She has a sweet tooth, but she’s so terrified of gaining weight that she won’t even indulge in half a slice of birthday cake.
My fists clench under the table thinking about that. That she feels like she isn’t allowed, that she doesn’t deserve it.
“It’s okay to enjoy food.” I rest my elbow on the table, leaning on my palm, watching him. “And one burger isn’t going to end your career, Rory.”
He stares at the burger like he doesn’t believe me, like he thinks this one burger is going to get him kicked off the team, and I wonder who the fuck put that idea in his head. Sadness pinches me in the ribs, and protectiveness wakes up in my chest.
He eats another onion ring and groans again, and my face heats.
“Can you groan lesssexually?” I mutter, and he just laughs.
* * *
“What would you be if you weren’t a hockey player?”
We’re walking down my street, and Rory has his arm draped over my shoulder, holding me close. Darcy and Hayden were trying to get everyone to go out dancing, but the second the group left the bar, Rory pulled me in the opposite direction, toward my apartment. His tipsiness has worn off, but the evening is cold and he’s warm, so I’m letting him tuck me against his body.
We walk half a block before he answers. “I don’t know. I’ve wanted to be a hockey player for as long as I can remember.”
We pass under the big maple tree outside my apartment.
I think about his assists tonight and his exuberant grin. “You were incredible tonight.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as our eyes hold. “Would you still think that if I didn’t have the highest scoring average in the league?”
There’s something in his eyes that breaks my heart. “I don’t like you because of your stats.”
“So you do like me.” The corner of his mouth tips up, and his eyes lose that vulnerable look. He tucks my hair behind my ear, grazing the shell. “Invite me up.”
Energy crackles in the air between us. If Rory comes upstairs, something’s going to happen.
I don’t care, though. If I reach deep down, beyond all the scarring and scratches I’ve endured from Connor, I want Rory to come up.
I like him. I don’t want to, but I do. Panic rises at that thought, but I shove it away.
“Okay,” I say instead.
