The Fake Out: a fake dating hockey romance (Vancouver Storm Book 2)

THE NEXT MORNING, weak winter sun filters in through the windows of Rory’s bedroom while we lie in bed. I’m lying on him, listening to his heartbeat as his chest rises and falls with his steady breathing.

“Move in with me,” he murmurs as I trail my fingers up and down his flat stomach. The dragon tattoo on his ribs is mostly healed.

I lift my head and look into his crushing blue eyes, a knot of emotion in my throat. “You think?”

He nods.

“It’s soon.” I bite my lip.

“Is it?” A smile quirks up on his mouth. “It doesn’t feel too soon to me.”

I picture myself living here, waking up beside Rory every day. The images are seamless and filled with joy.

“Yeah.” My brow wrinkles. “I guess you’re right.”

Excitement whistles through me as I let my imagination run wild: hosting dinners with our friends and family, curling up on the couch together, sitting in the hot tub on the patio overlooking the city and telling each other about our day.

My gaze comes to him, and I smile. “Okay.”

“Just like that?” His eyes spark with teasing surprise. “Okay? I don’t even need to convince you?”

“Nope.” I grin wider. “I’m in. I’m all in.”

His eyes warm with affection. “Finally.”

My heart squeezes, and I give him a soft kiss.

“Are you sore from yesterday’s game?” I ask.

“A little.”

“Turn over.”

Rory groans as he rolls onto his stomach, and I sit on top of him, kneading up and down his spine, searching for muscle tightness. Between his shoulder blades, the muscles are tense and knotted.

“There.” I dig my thumb into the tight muscle.

His low, tortured groan is muffled by the pillow. “You’re evil.”

“Shut up and take it,” I say, laughing, and I can see him grinning.

“I love it when you’re mean to me, Hartley.”

I bring my lips to his back and give him another soft, affectionate kiss. “I know.”

He lets me rub his back for about sixty seconds before he flips over with a mischievous look. I straddle his hips, running my hands up and down his hard chest, and beneath me, he’s fully erect.

“Bet I can make you come without touching your clit.”

I let out a high laugh of disbelief. “Your ego is ridiculous, Miller.”

His brows go up, and that teasing spark in his eyes sends heat racing through me. “Aren’t you a little curious? Where’s that competitive spirit, Hartley?”

He pulls my t-shirt off, leaving me in just my panties. His eyes heat as his hands cover my breasts, callouses scraping over my skin and making me shiver in delight.

“Perfect tits,” he murmurs, staring at me with hunger.

The way he toys with my nipples goes straight to my clit. Arousal stirs, dampening my panties.

“What’s the bet?” I ask, trailing my finger over his ridged chest and stomach. “Anything you want?”

He shakes his head and pulls me to him, kissing my neck.

“I already have everything I want. This one’s just to prove you wrong.”

Holding me against him, he pulls my panties aside and drags his fingers over my seam. Pleasure arcs through me, and I moan against his strong shoulder.

“I already have everything I want, too.” My voice is thin as heat gathers between my legs.

“I know, baby.” He pushes a big finger inside me and my muscles clench on him. “Hazel,” he says like a curse. “You’re so wet.”

His lips find mine and our kiss is frantic, desperate, consuming. I’m overwhelmed with sensations—with his stubble against my face, his tongue stroking mine, his second finger pushing inside me, making my head spin, and his hard, strong body beneath mine. His cock pressing against me with urgency.

“Need you,” I mutter, and my hands move clumsily as I reach for his cock, pushing his boxers down.

He nods, and my panties disappear. He lines himself up, and my heart jumps at the look in his eyes—so full of love and need and awe.

I sink down onto him and we moan together. The sharp stretch around his thick length sends fire through my body.

“You’re everything to me,” I sigh as I sink farther, until he’s in to the hilt. The first burst of sparks goes off at the base of my spine, and I drag my teeth over his chest as my pulse whooshes in my ears.

“I love you so fucking much,” he grits out, jaw tight, and with his hands spanning my waist, he begins to move me back and forth on his cock.

Not up and down. Back and forth, and—

“Oh, fuck.” Desire surges through me, tightening and spiraling. “Rory.”

He crooks a wicked, lazy grin up at me, watching in fascination as he moves me on him. It’s like he knows his cock is hitting the exact right spot.

“Lean forward a bit,” he whispers.

I do, and when my clit slides against his base, my jaw goes slack.

His mouth hitches. “There we go.”

“You’re the evil one,” I gasp as a wave of heat sweeps through me.

Rory’s moves me faster, biceps flexing. I never stood a chance. The flutters start, and his eyes flare hot like he feels them.

“Let go,” he rasps, eyes bright. “Let go for me and let me win.”

The noise that slips out of me is half-frustration, half-defeat because I’m already tightening up. The pressure rises and I bite my lip to hold in the moan, but the way he’s hitting my G-spot is too good, the way he’s rubbing my clit with his body is too perfect. I can’t hold off.

“Oh god.” I pitch forward, shaking and tensing on Rory as my release hits me. I’m mindless as stark pleasure hurtles through me, nails digging into his muscles. Wave after wave radiates through me and my teeth sink into his shoulder while I hold on tight.

“I need to come,” he grits out and I nod feverishly.

“Come with me,” I beg.

Inside me, he swells, and his hips jerk upward, pounding into me, before he groans my name and stiffens. Through the last tremors of my orgasm, I memorize how his lips part, how he looks at me with desperation and love, how he holds me tight like he’ll never let me go.

We drift back down to earth with our hearts pounding, me pressing kisses to his neck, his cheeks, his lips.

“Told you,” he murmurs, and I laugh against his mouth.

“I guess we both won.”

He sighs happily before he takes a deep breath and sits up. “Okay, Hartley. No more lazing around. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

I roll onto my back and kick him away when he tries to pull me out of bed. “You don’t have practice today.”

He tilts a grin down at me. “We need to move you in.”

“Today?”

He nods. “Today, Hartley. I finally got you to say yes, and I’m not waiting a second longer.”

My heart explodes with love, and I shriek with laughter as he lifts me out of bed, hauls me over his shoulder, and carries me to the shower.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

“Never.”

I’m still laughing, still squirming over his shoulder as he turns the water on. He sets me on my feet and I loop my arms around his neck, gazing up at my handsome, unhinged hockey player.

“I’m keeping you, Rory Miller.”