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.
“It’s hard enough to get this guy out with us without your chirps, Miller,” Hayden says. “Darcy had to drag him here tonight.”
“Kit likes to go to bed early like a grandpa,” Darcy teases, and Rory gives her a big hug hello before she steps over to me, her platinum-blond hair practically sparkling under the dim bar lights.
“I didn’t know you were in town,” I tell her as we hug. We’ve hung out a few times after games but I never get to talk to her long enough. “You could have sat with me and Pippa during the game.”
“Yeah, Darce.” Hayden tips his chin at her, eyes bright. She barely comes up to his shoulder. “Then you could have seen my goal up close like Driedger did.” He elbows Kit in the gut and Kit laughs quietly, shoving him off.
“Next time,” Darcy says with a shy smile before her curious gaze swings between me and Rory. “I heard about this, but I didn’t believe it.”
Rory’s hand rests between my shoulder blades, and when he looks down at me, his smile is so gentle and handsome. He hasn’t shaved in a couple days, and a thin layer of dark blond stubble spans his strong jaw.
“It’s true.” My eyes lift to Rory’s backward baseball hat. His eyes are bright, and the tops of his cheekbones are a little flushed from the game still. With him wearing that hat, I stand no chance against Rory Miller.
People make room, and I move to sit down, but Rory pulls me into his lap. Jordan swings by with a soda water for Rory and a drink for me, and while he’s thanking her, Pippa’s eyes widen as she sips her drink, watching us with a smile.
Shut up, I tell her with my eyes.
I won’t, she says right back with hers.
I try to slide off his lap, but his hands tighten on my waist, keeping me close.
“No,” he murmurs in my ear. “You stay where you are, fire-breather.”