Between the strange friendship we’ve developed and the flirting that feels like fun, things with Rory are so different than they ever were with Connor.
My skin’s prickling. The last two weeks of photos and flirty texting have driven me to the brink of horniness, and now I want to do something about it.
I need to do something about it.
Lifting up on my tiptoes, I kiss him. My hand flattens on his chest, rubbing slow circles over his heartbeat as I walk him backward to my bed, giving him light, sweet kisses.
“Sit down and close your eyes,” I tell him when the backs of his knees hit the bed.
His features are strained like he’s holding himself back, but he gives me a funny smile, and that playful spark is back in his eyes. “Why?”
“Do it.” I push against his flat stomach. “You’ll be happy you did.”
He drags a breath in and smiles like I’m killing him before sitting on the edge of the bed and closing his eyes, propping his elbows on his knees. In my closet, I find my favorite piece he sent—a pale pink lace bodysuit, sheer and delicate and soft with tiny straps.
My clothes swish against my skin as I take them off, and I pull the bodysuit on with care. Like the last time I put it on, it feels like a dream to wear. It’s the perfect size, like it was made to my measurements, and against my skin, the lace is luxurious.
“Don’t peek.”
I turn, and he’s resting his chin on his palm, gaze hot and intense.
“I’m not,” he says, eyes raking down my body.
Goosebumps rise across my skin. As I approach, he pulls me between his legs. His hands come to my hips before sliding down and into the bodysuit, palming my ass, and I sink my fingers into his hair.
I try not to think about why I want to comfort him so badly, why I want him to realize Connor’s nothing to me. I’m not thinking about my rule and what this means. I’m not breaking it. I’m not getting attached. I’m just letting myself enjoy this one tiny moment with a guy I know I’ll have fun with.
“I missed you,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against my stomach, hands flexing on my ass. “Did you miss me, Hazel?”
I shouldn’t have, but I did.
“Yes,” I admit.
He presses a kiss to my stomach, flicking his hot gaze up to me. “Good.”
He pulls me into his lap, one hand spanning the width of my thigh to keep me there and the other roaming my body, smoothing over the low back of my bodysuit, the high-cut thighs, the thin satin straps. I cling to him, watching his look of hot admiration as his hand rakes over me.
Having a hockey superstar look at me like this is doing incredible things for my confidence.
“This one was a good choice,” he says in a low voice, playing with the strap, dragging his fingers over my neckline.
Through the thin fabric, my nipples pinch. I press a kiss to Rory’s neck, the stubble prickling under my lips. “You have great taste.”
He stares at me, eyebrows lifting with that constant, steady, teasing smile, like he has a secret. “I know.”
I pull him down to kiss me, and a soft moan slips out of me as he coaxes me open, tasting me, exploring and claiming my mouth.
“Better?” I whisper between kisses.
“Uh.” Another pained noise in his throat, a frown between his brows. “Not really.” He pulls me harder against him, and I feel the thick, hard length pressing into my stomach.
My breath catches, and warm pressure squeezes at the apex of my thighs. My hand comes to his and I place his palm against my breast, urging him on. Everything inside me tightens when his fingers find the stiff peak, toying and tugging and rolling and driving me absolutely fucking nuts.
He shakes his head, staring at my breasts with a look of awe. “Your tits are beautiful.”
I laugh, even as I’m coiling up with need. “What about now?” I ask again, biting back a moan as he toys with my nipples. “Is this better?”
“No.”
“What would make it better, Rory?” I don’t know why I’m acting like this, trying to find out what would satisfy him.
His hand slides between my legs, and I suck in a breath and let it out on a moan as his fingers press and circle my clit over the damp lace.
“Hartley, you’re drenched.”
CHAPTER 48
HAZEL
I press my lips together to hold in the moan as his hand works exactly the way I need. My face is buried in his neck, huffing in his scent as his hand massages my pussy into another state of consciousness.
“Still feeling jealous?” My voice is thin as he slips his fingers beneath the fabric, and our moans mingle as he drags friction over my clit. “Oh my god,” I breathe against his warm skin. Heat builds under his fingers, swirling and gathering at his touch, and I see my release on the horizon.