Page 62 of The Fake Out
“Can you stay still for a second?” His voice is strained.
“What’s going on—”
Oh.
A thick, hard length presses into my lower back. My thoughts fizz, and there’s another warm twinge between my legs. Rory’s hard. Like, really hard. Pressing into me. Hard.
“Oh,” I say, staring straight ahead. Every cell in my body is hyperaware of the insistent press of his cock against me.
“Yeah.” He makes a hoarse noise.
Liquid warmth pools low in my belly. I picture a thousand dirty things. What it would feel like to fuck Rory. To sit on top of him and ride him. Jesus. My eyes close for a moment and I see it—him holding me down, wrists pinned above my head as he fucks me slowly, staring into my eyes with that lazy, knowing grin as I unravel around him.
My hips shift, searching for friction instinctively, and he sucks in a sharp breath as his hands tighten on my waist.
“Donotdo that, Hartley,” he groans, and his length pulses. “That’s not helping.”
My skin is too hot, and yet I feel the urge to laugh.
Against my back, his chest rises and falls as he searches for control. “Why do you smell so good?” He says it like it pisses him off, and a warm flush creeps up my neck.
“I just smell normal.”
“You definitely fucking don’t smell normal, Hartley.”
His frustrated tone does weird things to my body. My skin tingles all the way down my back, and arousal tugs low in my stomach.
We pretend to listen to the conversation at the table while I sit very, very still. Jordan swings by and I order some food, still hyper aware of Rory’s erection. Eventually, the thick rod against my backside goes away, and I can think again.
“Want one?” I ask him when my fries arrive.
He shakes his head, gaze lingering on them. “No, thanks.”
“No drinking, no fries,” I list, popping one in my mouth. He’s like my mom, always putting herself on a diet.
His eyes linger on my mouth. “My body is my career, and eating junk food isn’t going to do me any favors.”
Salt bursts in my mouth as I eat. “One fry, though? Is that really going to end your season? Especially when they’reso good.” I quietly moan the last two words, letting my eyes roll back like it’s the best fry I’ve ever eaten.
Rory’s eyes darken. “Do that again.”
I hold eye contact with him as I eat another.
“Fuck.” He looks away when I lick my bottom lip. “That’s so hot.”
“You know what goes so well with fries? Beer.”
He sucks in a long breath. “I haven’t had one in forever.”
“You played a great game tonight.” My brows rise. “I’m proud of you. You should celebrate.”
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.