I’m proud of him?
I am, though. For the first time in forever, he actually looked happy out there, and I know it has something to do with the pickup game yesterday.
But I can’t say those kinds of things.
“Not that it matters,” I quickly add.
“It does.” His expression is so serious. “It matters.”
My heart gives a happy spin at that.
He looks at the fries, and his eyes spark with teasing. “You trying to be a bad influence on me, Hartley?”
I shrug, still smiling. “Is it working?”
“Yes.” He meets my eyes again. “Alright. Hit me.”
My grin widens and I hand him my beer before catching Jordan’s attention and silently ordering another for myself. When Rory takes a sip, his eyes close and he groans like he just found water in the middle of the desert.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
My breath catches, fascinated by the expression on his face. “Good?”
He nods, takes another sip, and sighs, and something warm and pleased weaves through my chest.
CHAPTER 29
HAZEL
An hour later, Rory’s had two beers. His smile is a little brighter, his laugh is a little louder, and his hands roam a little more freely over me, smoothing over my back, resting on my waist, and giving my thigh quick, firm squeezes.
His nose presses to my temple as he takes a deep inhale. “Jesus Christ,” he murmurs.
Something about his low voice sends my hormones crashing through my system, demanding horny things.
My mind flicks to him on my bed in just his boxers.
“Are you drunk?” I whisper, giving him a teasing grin.
“No,” he laughs against my ear. “Just tipsy.”
“Lightweight.” I have a stupid grin all over my face. “You have the alcohol tolerance of a Pomeranian.”
“Don’t bully me, Hartley.” He nips my earlobe and my lips part. “It makes me hard.”
I’m laughing, but I’m also flushing. His hands tighten on my waist, and one slides down to my hip. Then lower, resting on the crease where my hip meets my thigh. His thumb strokes, and the breath whooshes out of me.
So. Freaking. Hot.
“You’re drunk.” I can barely get the words out, I’m so turned on.
“I’m not.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “I just think you’re really, really pretty.”
I turn away, smiling and blushing.
“And smart.” His stubble scrapes my cheekbone as he presses another soft kiss to my skin. “And you smell good.” Another kiss, this one on my jaw. “And I like the shape of your lips.” Neck kiss. “And tits.” I shudder as he groans against my pulse point. “You’ve always had perfect tits,” he whispers in my ear.
I’m lit up, buzzing as arousal swirls at the base of my spine. “Stop acting drunk or I’m going to take advantage of you.”
“Promise?”
I laugh. “I’m going to ask personal questions and find out all your secrets.”
He stares down at me with that smirk I want to kiss off his mouth. “When have I ever not answered one of your questions?”
I blink, thinking. He’s right; he always answers my questions.
“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?”