Chapter Thirty-Five
TOMMY
“Full transparency.” I stop just in front of Jenna, throwing ice onto her black jeans.
She looks down at the wet patches forming where the ice melts, her hands propped on her hips in disgust.
“You’re way better at skating than I thought you would be.”
Reaching up, she cups my cheek in one of her palms. She’s wearing black gloves since I took her home to get wrapped up before driving us to the ice rink under the Brooklyn Bridge, for what I’m convinced is my first official date with a girl.
“Tommy, ever the cocky one. I went skating with my brother and his friends a ton. If I wasn’t playing soccer, I’d probably be playing hockey.
” She smirks up at me, rosy cheeks only heating further when I bring my mouth closer to hers.
“I wanted to be a goalie so I could boss asshole defensemen and women around.”
I point at myself. “But assholes can still be endearing, no?”
She taps her chin in thought. “I’m thinking I can make an exception for you.”
My stomach flips at her words, and as she turns around to skate away from me, I wrap my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder.
Even beneath the layers of clothing separating us, I’m sure I feel her heart rate pick up. The puffs of air she exhales in the darkening night sky for sure become bigger and more frequent.
“This is what you want, right, Jenna? To feel safe and wanted in your man’s arms?”
I know a picture of us can’t go any further than my own phone gallery, especially given Jenna’s brother doesn’t know about us, and announcing I have a girlfriend I don’t officially have as a first social media post might be taking things a step too far.
Still, I pull my phone from my pocket, opening the camera to selfie mode.
Jenna turns her head over her shoulder, our lips close, breaths mingling. “What are you doing?”
“Making you another curry,” I sarcastically reply.
She rolls her eyes at me, and I snap the first picture of us. It seems fitting that the first photo we take is one where she’s irritated with me.
“Can we take another?” I ask, turning her around to face me.
She rests her arms over my shoulders, and it’s all the excuse I need to press my mouth against hers and take another picture of us kissing.
“What if someone recognizes you?” she whispers into my mouth. “I mean, I’m hardly famous, but someone is bound to notice you.”
“Do you care?” I ask her. “Because I don’t give a flying fuck.”
She shakes her head. “No, I don’t care what anyone here thinks. But I do think I should talk to Holt.”
“What are you going to tell him? That I’m your man?”
She looks up at me, two big pools of blue that make me want to submerge myself in her forever.
Jesus Christ.
“Because I want to be,” I clarify, just in case she hasn’t gotten the message yet.
Her eyes drop to the center of my chest. “I know … I know you do, Tommy.”
I tip her chin up to look at me. “Tell me what else is holding you back from giving us a shot. Is it Holt? I’ll set the record straight between us, I promise.”
She shakes her head again. “The Holt thing is tricky, but only because he is a protective brother.”
“Tell me what else I need to do, Jenna.”
Running her tongue across her bottom lip, she looks off to the side and then back at me. The string lights set up all around the rink burst into life and twinkle in her eyes as darkness continues to fall.
“I want you to keep showing me Tommy Williams. Because that’s the boy holding my chin. He’s the one you’ve buried inside you.” Her palm comes to my chest again. “The tattoo over your heart—what does it mean?”
Hearing Jenna call me by my mom’s name, coupled with her direct question, knocks me off guard, and I drop my eyes to her glove. “The scissors and thread?”
She nods subtly. “Of all your tattoos, that’s the one that stands out to me. It has to have meaning.”
“God, Jesus.” I close my eyes. “How do you know all the questions to ask me?”
“I think because of all the people you’ve met in your life, I’m the first one that you want to open up to.”
I kiss her, so fucking hard, lifting her up so she wraps her legs around my waist. Sure, there’s a chance she could slice my leg open with a blade, but it’d be worth it to hold her like this.
She’s right. So fucking right.
“It was my first tattoo.”
Jenna cups the back of my neck in her palms, and I skate over to the side, setting her down on the boards and stepping between her legs.
“Sir, I’m afraid we don’t allow people to sit—”
The guy working the rink stops dead in his tracks when I growl at him. He isn’t disturbing this moment with my girl.
“Never mind. As you were.” He waves me off, eyes flared wide.
“I shouldn’t find your assholery sexy,” Jenna sighs. “But in this moment, I do.”
I take one of her hands and place it back over my heart.
“It was the first tattoo I ever got. Right after everything went down with Alex and he kicked me out of his apartment, I had time to kill before my flight home. So, I got my first tat. It symbolizes cutting ties.”
Jenna stares at my chest, almost like she’s trying to see it through my clothes. “Like cutting your mom and dad out of your life?”
That wasn’t what I was going to say, although she’s not wrong.
“Cutting ties with my feelings. I felt like it was a crime to care about people or that it was easier to just walk away from emotions and any kind of relationship. The hurt I felt toward my parents twisted me up good, Jen. It still does.”
“That’s a long time to hold so much anger in your heart, Tommy.”
“Do you not feel bitter toward your parents for favoring your brother over you?”
Her dark hair is almost as black as the beanie she’s wearing. But none of Jenna is dark. She’s a wild child, for sure, but her soul is as pure as freshly Zamboni’d ice.
“What’s the point of holding on to anger or bitterness? Just let it go and concentrate on the people in your life who bring you joy and safety. If they don’t make you feel good about yourself, then they aren’t worth a second more of your energy.”
She presses her forehead against mine, looking me square in the eyes. “And, yep, you can take that as a compliment. I wouldn’t be here with you if I didn’t want to be.”
Like I’m a fucking teenager or something, my cock strains against the zipper of my jeans. “Spend the night with me. Come back to my place. We can watch movies, and I’ll cook for you. I’m addicted to spending time with you because you make me feel so good.”
“That depends.” She grins.
Cupping the back of her head in my palm, I run my lips across hers. “On what?”
“If that annoyingly delicious curry you made me is still on the menu. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I finished the last of it from my freezer.”
“I can teach you how to make it, if you’d like?”
She pulls back, scrunching up her nose. “I hate cooking. It’s a means to an end for me.”
“Ah yes,” I jest. “You prefer moldy, horrible takeout pizza that’s likely to give you food poisoning.”
She looks genuinely hurt at my dig. “Actually, I have been eating way better since I met you.”
I inch forward so my hard cock presses into her jean-covered center, and I swear to God, I feel her grow wet for me. “What are you trying to tell me, Jen? That I’m having a positive impact on your life?” My words are dripping with bravado, although I mean every one of them.
“You definitely are when it comes to my nutritional plan.”
“Mmhmm,” I hum against her lips. “Speaking of nutrition …”
“Oh my God …” she quietly croons when I press myself into her a little more.
I’m fighting with everything I have to keep this interaction PG since there are a couple of families still on the rink.
“I think it’s high time I ate.” I drop my eyes to her pussy, now convinced she’s soaking. “And my girl is on the menu tonight.”
She bites down on her bottom lip.
“Along with butternut squash curry,” I add, pulling a giggle from her.
“Okay,” she answers after a couple of beats. “I’ll come home with you.”
I light up like a fucking preteen when he sees his date at the school dance.
Jenna jumps down off the side and taps me on the shoulder. “Don’t get too carried away, Tommy. I’m only using you for your culinary skills.”