The Fake Out (Vancouver Storm, #2)(36)

A cold chill runs through me. Rory’s going to be in my life forever, and I’m cuddling with him. We have an end date to this fake relationship, and yet I’m getting far too comfortable.

Connor’s ugly words from years ago loom in my head, and I’m out of bed in a shot.

“Good morning.” His voice is gravelly with sleep as he squints at me in the morning light.

“Morning.” I whirl around, digging through my dresser for clothes.

“Despite your terrible mattress, Hartley, I had the best fucking sleep.” He stretches with a low, rasping groan, and my gaze snags on his defined, muscular arms, the carved lines of his pecs and abs, and—

My thighs clench. That thick length that pressed into me earlier strains against the fabric of his boxers.

I meet his eyes, and he winks. He knows exactly what I was looking at, and I don’t think he minds one bit.

My clit aches.

I have got to get out of here before I do something stupid, like take my underwear off and sit on top of him.

“I’m going to have a shower,” I manage, scampering across the room toward the bathroom door.

He shoots me that lazy, panty-melting grin, gaze dropping to my bare legs and probably part of my ass, visible from under the t-shirt, and there’s another warm squeeze between my legs. “Want company?”

With his towering height in my tiny shower? “We wouldn’t fit.”

His grin turns feral and smug. “We’d make it fit.”

Heat streaks through me, and my mind whispers just one time as my gaze lands on his straining erection again.

It would be so good with him. I know it would.

I don’t sleep with guys I know, though. I hook up once and then we part ways. I definitely don’t hook up with guys who I’m fake dating or hanging out with on a regular basis or who will be the best man in my sister’s wedding.

I slam the door closed and lean against the inside, collecting my common sense.





My blood pumps hard as I walk up to my apartment, catching my breath after my run. Moving usually helps clear my head, but today, my thoughts still slingshot around my brain.

This thing with Rory is getting away from me. We can be friends, but we can’t be more, no matter how my body responds to him, or how I feel when he lights up like he’s actually having fun for once.

I need to remember what this is for him: a chase. He wants what he can’t have, and the second he gets it, I’m old news.

“Hazel Hartley?”

Two guys wait outside my building. A delivery van is parked on the street. “That’s me.”

“Delivery for you.” He hands his electronic tablet to me. “Sign here.”

My eyes narrow. “I didn’t order anything.”

The guy glances at the tablet. “Charges went to Rory Miller.”

Of course they did. I sign the tablet, and while the delivery guys unload a new mattress and bed frame from the truck, I pull out my phone and call him.

Rory answers the phone a moment later, as I’m holding the front door open for the guys.

“Seriously?” I ask in lieu of greeting.

“You are so welcome.”

I don’t know whether to scream or laugh as I climb the stairs after them. He doesn’t seem weird about this morning, so that’s good. I can pretend if he can. “I can hear your stupid smug grin through the phone.”

“I’m not sleeping on that lumpy old mattress again.”

My mouth falls open in shock. “You’re not sleeping on the new one, either.”

Especially not after this morning.

“Hartley, I gotta go. The plane’s going to take off soon.”

“What am I supposed to—”

“The guys will take the old bed.” There’s an airport announcement in the background. “I’ll call you when we land.”

I stare at the disconnected call. That dick hung up on me.





CHAPTER 23





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.