“Why?” He holds my gaze, hands sliding up my thighs.
“Because…” I scramble for a coherent thought that isn’t related to how wet I am or how fucking horny I’m getting. “Because it was pretty, and I wanted to feel hot.”
“And did it work?”
His gaze sears me, and I nod.
It’s true—wearing something so beautiful and delicate makes me feel sexy.
Beneath me, his erection pulses, and he lets out a heavy breath. “That is really fucking hot, Hartley.” His throat works, and his warm palms return to my breasts, slipping beneath the cups of my bra to toy with my nipples. When he tugs, I feel it all the way to my pussy.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, leaning forward to kiss him again.
He devours my mouth, tongue sliding against mine, making my head spin. “What were you saying, Hartley?”
Oh. Right. That. “This will be the first and last time we do this.”
He pulls away to look into my eyes. “What?”
“It’s just what I do.” My shrug is easy and casual, even as I’m tight with need. “I only sleep with guys once. It’s easier that way.”
He frowns. “And then what?”
“And then we both move on.”
When I tell people this, they usually look relieved, but Rory’s frown deepens and his hands leave my body. His throat works again as he searches my eyes.
“We should stop,” he says.
The arousal in my blood fizzles out like I’ve been dunked in cold water.
His jaw ticks. “It would complicate things.”
Rejection burns through me. He said he’s been thinking about this for years. He’s slept in my fucking bed. I kissed him at the team party, but he kissed me back. He said it was hot that I was wearing the lingerie he sent.
He asked me out at the beginning of the season, before the deal.
He’s been chasing me for years, and now he doesn’t want me?
Oh. My stomach sinks. He’s never seen this much of my body before. He’s never touched me like this, felt my tits and stomach and thighs and butt.
Shame whips through me as I climb off him, grab my shirt, and pull it back over my head.
I’m not upset. It’s fake. It’s a deal. It’s not a relationship. Even if the sex would be incredible. Even if I’d come so hard and work to make him come harder than ever.
“You’re right.” I’m channeling the same woman who told Connor she’s dating Rory, the woman with the cool, calm, hardened shell around her. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Just horny, I guess.”
“Hazel,” he starts.
“You should go.” I fold my arms over my chest. “It’s late.”
His eyes flash with something that looks like regret, and when our eyes meet, he looks like he wants to say something, but I take another step back, out of the Rory Miller Danger Zone.
He sits up, wearing a pained expression like I’m killing him. “Hazel.”
“It’s fine, Rory.”
It’s not fine. I’m so fucking embarrassed. I’ve never been flat-out rejected like this, but Rory’s used to hooking up with models and actresses. I get an ugly memory of Connor from years ago, asking me if I’d ever consider breast implants, and my stomach recoils.
“Let’s pretend it never happened.”
CHAPTER 31
RORY
Hazel looks like she wants to sink into the floor as she heads to the front door, and I’m sitting here on her bed, hard as fuck and torn about what to do.
I said it would complicate things, but I meant once would never be enough.
The second we sleep together, Hartley’s done with me.
We have something. I know we do. I think about her telling me she was proud of me after my game and the way she laughed with me at the team party.
And now she’s wearing the lingerie I sent her, looking like a goddess sent to tempt me? After she admitted that the gift I got her made her feel hot, hitting the brakes was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. She looked like mine, wrapped in pale blue lace that I bought.
Possessive instincts charge through me. We’re not moving on yet, though. No fucking way.
So I lied, and now she’s hurt, and there’s an ache in my chest that only grows by the second. My mouth opens to say something, but she lets out a frustrated sigh.
“Rory, please.” Her expression is vulnerable like in the gym the day she met with Connor and asked me to give her space. “I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t make me feel worse. I know you date women who look different—”