Worst of all, I think he cares about me, too. I should tell him to go home.
Just once, the devil on my shoulder whispers. It’s my rule, after all. One time and then we’ll never hook up again.
He rests a hand on my thigh, and his fingers drift to the inside seam of my leggings, toying with it. “And I want you to wear it.” He holds my gaze. “Please.”
It’s that please that does it for me. And maybe the way his hand feels on my leg, so big and warm. “Okay.” I’m hyperaware of where he’s touching me and his gaze roaming my face. My heart rate jumps because I can’t seem to get it under control around him. “You can be so sweet when you want to be,” I say for some reason.
“So can you.”
I have to remind myself to breathe as our eyes hold, and my heart jumps into my throat. I study the elegant lines of his face, his strong nose, his brows, the curve of his lips. He’s so handsome with that stubble, and my hands twitch with the urge to drag my fingers over it.
“Besides, it’ll piss McKinnon off.” He shakes his head. “Fucking McKinnon,” he bites out. “He was watching you tonight.”
“He just wants to play with your toys. He’s always been competitive with you.”
He folds his arms over his chest. “He still has a thing for you, and I don’t like it. He knows we’re together. He shouldn’t be staring at you like that.”
My stomach does a slow roll at the way he says it, like it’s real. Isn’t that the whole point of what we’re doing, getting under Connor’s skin?
“You sound jealous.”
His jaw ticks, and our eyes meet again. “I am.”
I shouldn’t like that he feels possessive over me, but I find myself sliding off the bed and walking to the closet. My stomach is full of butterflies as I tug the jersey off the hanger and pull it over my head.
“Better?” I ask, turning to him, holding my arms out.
The way his gaze flares sends a thrill through me. His throat works as his eyes slowly trace down my form and back up.
“Come here,” he says.
The air cracks with tension. Walking over to the bed is going to be a mistake.
I do it anyway.
“I guess that’s a yes—” I let out a squeak as he lifts me so I’m straddling him.
He pulls his hat off and sets it on my bedside table, and I don’t know why that’s so fucking hot. His hair is messy, and I let myself reach up and run my fingers through it. Soft, too.
Rory has a thousand smiles, I’m realizing. One for every emotion, every possible situation in life, and the one he’s wearing right now is a mix of comfort and arousal. His hands settle on my thighs, stroking up and down, pressing firm into my muscles.
“Hi,” I whisper, because it feels like we’ve climbed a level in whatever this is between us, and I’m not sure what else to say.
“Hi, Hazel.” He gives me his Hazel is cute smile. His hand strokes a little higher, thumbs brushing the seam between my hip and thigh, and my breathing turns ragged. He notices because his gaze flares.
He pulls me down to kiss me, claiming my mouth with urgency and hot desperation. An ache grows behind my clit as his tongue delves between my lips, stroking me.
“I’m thinking about what you taste like,” he says between kisses. One hand comes to my breast, kneading and finding my stiff nipple through the fabric of my jersey and shirt.
His eyes flare with heat, and something inside me jumps in anticipation. He’s going to see that I’m wearing the pale blue bra and panties he sent.
“And what it sounds like when you come,” he goes on, voice low as he nips my bottom lip. “I’ve been thinking about it for years.”
Heat builds between my legs, where I’m spread open across Rory’s hips. I’m getting the panties he bought me all wet.
Maybe this will all be easier once Rory gets what he’s been chasing.
My heart’s beating out of my chest. “Before we do this, um.”
I shift to ease the pressure, but his thick ridge rubs against me, sending a streak of need through me, making me lose my train of thought.
He pulls my jersey and shirt over my head, going still. My heart pounds as he stares at the pale blue bra, blinking once, twice before his dark gaze lifts to mine.
“Hartley,” he says, with his mouth curving up. “Is that—”
“Yes,” I rush out.
The way he’s teasing me with his eyes is starting to make me feel embarrassed, like maybe I overstepped. Maybe this looks pathetic, that I’m wearing something he bought me when it was clearly a joke.