The Fake Out (Vancouver Storm, #2)(23)

“If you really were my girlfriend, Hartley,” he whispers, his breath sending electric currents over my skin, “there’s no limit to what I would spend on you, so if we want to sell this? Let me.”

I swallow, unsure of what to say.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he adds, straightening up, and my pulse trips.

“What you do late at night in your hotel room is none of my business, Miller.” I give him a cool, disinterested smile despite my stomach doing somersaults.

He’s been thinking about me? How? In a sexy way? Do I like that?

I think I like that.

My brow arches. “Or in McDonald’s bathrooms.”

He snorts. “I’ve never been to McDonald’s.”

Shock drops the disinterest right off my face. “What? Not even when you were a kid? Not even when you’re drunk?”

“I don’t really get drunk, Hartley.”

I stare at him in confusion. “What about the ball pit?”

His chest shakes with laughter, eyes dancing with amusement, and I feel that funny flopping, somersaulty feeling in my stomach again. “The ball pit sounds disgusting.”

I give him a duh look. “Of course it is, but that doesn’t matter when you’re six.”

“Or drunk.” His eyes tease me.

“Or drunk,” I agree.

I wonder what he’d be like drunk, or a little tipsy. I bet he’d be silly, handsy, and sweet. Warmth gathers in my chest before I shove it away.

I can’t be thinking thoughts like that about him.

I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth, and his eyes drop to my mouth.

“Was there something you wanted?” I ask, face going warm.

He blinks as his eyes refocus. “There’s a community skating thing in the arena tonight and Ward is teaching a bunch of kids how to skate.”

“Okay. Good for him.”

Rory grins, and my stomach dips. His smile lifts even higher, and he’s so pretty. He’s strong, broad, and so, so tall, and his hair is thick and a little wavy in a way that makes me itch to drag my fingers through it, but also, he’s pretty.

“And you know I want to look like a responsible, reliable captain.”

I know where this is going. “I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“Hartley, I’m going to teach you how to skate.”





CHAPTER 13





RORY





“Bend your knees.”

“I’m going to fall.”

“You’re not going to fall.” I hold her waist, guiding her from behind as she skates at a glacial pace, wobbling. “I won’t let you.”

On every side of us, people skate in a big circle around the community center while music plays. A disco ball scatters dancing lights across Hazel’s hair.

“Do you think he saw us?” she asks.

Her hair smells nice. Light and pretty, like vanilla or cookies or something. “Who?”

“Ward.”

Right. The whole reason we’re here. On the other end of the arena, Ward is in a roped-off section with a bunch of toddlers, teaching them to skate. They’re all faster than Hartley.

“He saw me taking photos with people when we arrived.”

She makes a noise of acknowledgement and keeps shuffling on the ice.

My eyes drop to her ass. Fucking hell, those yoga leggings. I think about her not wearing panties under her yoga clothes, and arousal tightens in my groin.

I’m a fucking asshole, but I’ve pictured making her come a thousand times. It would change my whole life, watching her unravel because of me. She’s so in control, and making her arch and melt and cry out in pleasure would make my fucking life.

“Miller.” My head snaps up, and she’s looking at me over her shoulder with a small smirk. “Were you staring at my ass?”

“Yes.” I grin. “It’s the leggings.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Gross.” I let go of her waist, and her eyes widen in fear. “Don’t.” Her hands come to mine, holding them against her, and my blood beats with pride. “I’m not ready.”

She’s so cute. “Hartley, you’re doing great. I’m going to skate beside you for a bit.”

She makes a strangled noise but lets my hands go free, and I move to her side. We’re the slowest people on the ice, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

Her eyes lift to my face. “You don’t need to look so pleased.”

I throw my hands up, laughing. “I’m not.”

“You’re gloating.”

“I’m having fun with you.”

It’s the truth. Hanging out with Hartley like this, I’m relaxed. She looks away, but she’s smiling. On her next step forward, her skate slips, and she gasps as she catches herself.

“You got this,” I tell her, hovering.

She slips her gloved hand into mine, and my heart jumps into my throat as I stare down at where our hands are joined. Jittery nerves coil in my chest.

“We’re supposed to be a couple,” she says, not looking at me. “And I don’t want to fall.”

“I know.” My pulse is going nuts.