8. RAE
8
N ever in a million years would I ever expected to hang out with these two any given day of the week.
“What do you want?” Jensen asks, still standing, as Bodi and I slide down into one of the booths in the hotel bar.
We just had dinner at the steakhouse around the corner and I think it was the first conversation Jensen and I had without stabbing each other’s eyes out.
The three of us mostly chatted about safe subjects, like who will win the Superbowl and if pineapple should go on pizza. Though Bodi looked like he wanted to bury us alive when Jensen and I agreed that pineapple works great on pizza.
It’s was fucking weird .
But also… Fun..
“Long Island Iced Tea, hold on. Let me grab some money.” I reach into the front pocket of my pants while Jensen lets out a loud grunt.
When I look up, he rolls his eyes at me before stomping off toward the bar..
“What? What did I do?” I give Bodi a confused look.
He’s settling into the booth with his hands draped over the back of the bench, an amused smile creeping in.
“He’s not going to let you pay.” His eyes say duh , sparkling with amusement. “Remember, ego the size of a skyscraper?”
“Right.” I face him, glancing over his appearance.
He changed his flannel shirt for a gray dress shirt, and his sleeves are rolled up. His brown waves sit perfectly styled on his head, and with his bright smile, he’s a billboard for stability to any potential women lurking around.
He basically screams perfect husband.
“How are two best friends so different?” I ask as my eyes roam back to Jensen leaning against the bar to wait his turn.
His white t-shirt and dark hair make him stand out in every way, but it’s his ripped tattooed arms that claim every ounce of attention in the room. Combine it with his bulky physique and permanent scowl and he’s intimidating as fuck.
He has been pissing me off from the first day we met, but I’ve never denied that he’s handsome as hell. It’s something I could look past whenever his snarky mouth growled at me, but the constant blushing of my cheeks when his eyes rake over my body, or the flutter in my lower belly when he smirks make it hard to deny the attraction I seem to have for this infuriating man.
He knows how to push my buttons, and he seems to enjoy every second of it.
Like I’m one of those stuffed animals that says press here and a sound comes out. I want to bite his head off every single time he annoys me, and I’m ready to tramble off, but something keeps me drawn to him. Making me ponder if there are more buttons he can push.
“We’re more alike than you know,” Bodi replies.
“How so?” I keep my eyes trained on Jensen as I wonder how the hard muscles in his back would feel underneath the tips of my fingers.
“I’m just more polite,” Bodi continues. “But he and I? We’re built out of the same wood. He just doesn’t flaunt it unless you deserve it. He doesn’t trust easily. Blame his upbringing.”
“Hmm,” I hum, still fixated on the man that pisses me off as much as he turns me on.
Biting my lip, I let Bodi’s words settle in my mind, when suddenly, Jensen turns around with a tray filled with drinks, and our eyes lock. The tension quickly builds as he saunters back to us, and I cower under his gaze, shooting Bodi a smile to conceal my discomfort.
The corner of his mouth curls a bit, looking right through my actions, but he doesn’t address it.
“I told you, he’s not that bad,” he says instead as he gives me a penetrating look, right before Jensen sets the tray on the table in front of us.
“Long Island for you. Beer for you. Beer for me. And a shitload of shots for all of us.”
I stare at the shots in front of me with wide eyes.
“Don’t you think you had enough for the weekend?” I put the straw of my cocktail in my mouth, taking a sip before our eyes lock again.
His eyes are focused on my straw with parted lips, a hunger in his eyes making me blush like a damn peach, and I quickly put my drink back on the table. I exhale softly with nostrils flaring, trying to fake annoyance, when really, there is a fire forming between my legs.
I can’t deny the effect he has on me, even if my feelings keep tossing me around like a damn ping-pong. One minute, I’m drawn to him, dying to feel his lips on mine, while the next, I want to punch the smug smirk off his face.
“What is it?” I clear my throat to pretend I’m unaffected.
His ocean blue eyes hold me hostage with a glint of lust, and my organs burn me from the inside. He shoves himself into the booth on my other side, getting a little closer than necessary, like the provocative ass that he is. His fresh scent enters my nose, and without thought, I suck in a deep breath to bottle it in my mind while the heat of his body relaxes me more than it should.
“That’s a surprise.” He winks before he sighs loudly, pulling out his phone, only to shove it back in his pants with a scowl.
When I notice him declining a call with a grunt, a frown covers my face.
“Everything okay?”
He waves his hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it.”
“You want one?” He holds a shot up, and I gratefully take it.
“Yes, please.” Anything to rein in whatever he is unleashing inside of me.
The last thing I need is to get involved with another hockey player.
He hands one to Bodi, then grabs another one from the table. Then he puts the glass to his lips and throws his head back without waiting for us.
A feral roar erupts from his chest, as he slams the glass back onto the table.
Caveman.
“Always the gentleman,” Bodi sneers at his friend, then mimics the move by pouring a shot down his throat while I do the same.
A neutral flavor of vodka heats my tongue before it seers its way down my body.
“Maybe you should stick to your cocktail, baby. I wouldn’t want to have to carry you out of here.” He smirks.
The look on his face tells me he’s full of shit.
The look on mine tells him he’s underestimating me. Like many did before him. I wiggle my ass on the bench, straightening my back with confidence.
A grin splitting my face. “I hear a challenge, hockey boy .”
“Maybe.” He moves his face closer to mine with a seductive smile haunting his lips. “Are you up for it, princess ?”
The nickname slightly offends me, being anything but a princess. I can be a royal pain in his ass, though, if he keeps it up. Grabbing another shot from the table, I slowly bring it to my lips in reply, my eyes staying locked with his the entire time.
The tension turns palpable, making my nipples hard as rocks, and for a split second, I hope his focus doesn’t move down to my chest with my desire on full display. A soft moan vibrates in his throat, and he licks his lips when I swallow the contents down, my tongue going numb from the burn of the liquid.
With a straight face, I softly put the glass back on the table, defiance filling my eyes, then take a sip of my Long Island to wash the smooth yet slightly bitter taste away.
Game on, hockey boy.
He keeps staring at me with an amused smirk, his arm placed behind my neck, resting on top of the booth. Finally, his eyes darken, and an evil grin flashes on his handsome face, exchanging a look with Bodi.
“Alright! Miss Poised is ready to party!” He drums his fingers on the table in excitement before gesturing his hand toward Bodi, telling him to grab another shot as he grabs two himself.
“Ready?” He winks, holding up the next shot in front of me.
Our fingers touch briefly, sending a tingly feeling right to my stomach, and I press my legs together again as I take the shot from his hands.
“You don’t know what you’re signing up for, hockey boy .”
“Maybe,” he replies, his voice low and gruff, “but I can’t wait to find out.”
***
I take it back; now is when I’m feeling more relaxed than I have in a long time.
I’m tipsy and, I stopped counting shots a while ago, figuring Jensen was going to pass out pretty quickly, but the fucker has a better tolerance than I thought he’d have. I’d expected him to relax a bit more with each shot, but so far, the alcohol has only raised the tension between us and made his flirting appear more frequently, taking every chance he gets to touch me.
“I gotta ask, Rae.” Bodi stares at me with fuzzy eyes when I place my fourth empty cocktail glass back on the table. “Where the fuck did you learn to drink like that?”
“Yeah, not a talent I expected you to have,” Jensen pitches in as he brings another shot to his lips.
When the contents disappear, his face turns sour, eyes shut like he’s sucking on a lemon before he fixates them back at me. His brown hair seems to get messier every time he runs a hand through it, but it doesn’t make him less attractive.
In fact, the amount of alcohol now surging through my body makes it a challenge to keep my distance. To not trace the lines of his tattoos as I run my fingers over the skin of his arm or place my hand on his leg.
“What? You didn’t think Miss Poised could handle her liquor?” I playfully scowl at Jensen, bumping my knee against his.
“Oh, you don’t like that nickname?” I can feel him twirling a strand of my hair through his finger, the careless affection igniting a need to move closer to him.
I look at him intentionally. “It just shows how badly you know me.”
He purses his lips, straightening his shoulders as he inhales through his nose, nostrils flaring with irritation. His tongue darts out, and he moves his face a little closer.
“I guess that goes both ways,” he counters, a little offended.
Our gazes lock, both filled with a defiance that reminds me of all our bickering moments in the past. I’m hating and enjoying that we’re back to this part of our relationship, where I can see the desire in his light blue eyes.
He’s right.
I don’t really know him.
Determined to stand my ground, I let the alcohol give me the courage I need to hold his piercing gaze while the skin on my neck goes flush.
“Yeah, okay, guys.” My attention shifts when Bodi gets up from the booth, yet Jensen’s head stays in place, his gaze burning through me. “I’m gonna head out. I’ll see you both in the morning.”
I give him a smile and a short wave while he waits for his friend to acknowledge him. When he doesn’t, he rolls his eyes and winks at me. “Good luck.”
I watch him walk away, the hairs on my arms rising as Jensen’s fixation is still pointed at me. But I put on my big girl pants and suck in a breath, then turn my head with an innocent look.
“What is it, Jensen?” I muse.
“Give me a layer.”
“A layer?” I parrot, a bit puzzled and not sure what that means.
“Yeah, give me a layer.” He moves closer, then suddenly lets his head hang as he mutters some curse words. Shooting me an apologetic gaze, he pulls his phone out of his pocket for the tenth time.
He glares at the device, and I watch amused as he finally turns it off, throwing it on the table.
“Fuck the hell off!” He lets out a grunt, then puts his attention back on me with a smile, as if nothing happened.
“Give me a layer,” he repeats.
“Are we talking about clothes? Because hell no.” The screech that comes from my mouth covers up how I really wouldn’t mind taking off his clothes.
“Fucking hell, Rae.” He blinks, his lashes fluttering as if he has a hard time letting go of my words. “Let’s not go there. No, I’m talking about you !”
“I don’t follow.”
He takes another strand of my blonde hair between his fingers, gently tugging.
“For the last five years, I knew there was more to you than the pretty blonde in a pencil skirt,” he explains, his lips now only a few inches from my face.
The warmth of his breath makes it almost impossible to concentrate as I’m being consumed by his demanding energy. My brain has a hard time processing his words, but the few brain cells I have left seem to take on the job of keeping up my indifference.
“You know what a pencil skirt is?” I joke, trying to break the tension.
“I know there is more than the uptight piece of work that you are,” he goes on, undisturbed. “I’ve been dying to peel every single layer off you until the real Rae Stafford finally shows her true colors.”
“Who says this isn’t exactly who I am?”
“Nah-ah. I can see it. There is a spark in your eyes that you’ve tucked away, deep. But I’m gonna find it, Rae. I’m gonna find the real you. You can’t hide behind professionality anymore.”
I bite my lip, feeling exposed. “Is that a threat?”
The features on his face ease a bit before he whirs, “I’m too smart to threaten a girl who throws punches like you do. Besides, you can just show me who she is.”
I let out a loud laugh, and when he does the same, the tension simmers down a little bit. We grow quiet, and I love how he hasn’t tried to piss me off in the last hour.
“My turn.” I beam.
“Your turn? I didn’t know we were taking turns,” he bellows, incredulous.
“We are, hockey boy . Why are you turning your phone off?”
His eyebrows move to his hairline before rubbing his face.
“Does it matter?” he grunts.
“I’m curious.” I shrug. “Who are you avoiding? Emily?”
“Emily. Right .” His gaze turns glossy, as his thoughts seem to drag him under.
The man turns into a lone teenager in front of my eyes, the worried look on his face hurts my heart and confuses me at the same time.
What don’t I know?
“Come on. Tell me,” I press, gently poking my finger in his belly to snap him out of his own head.
He locks his eyes with mine; they’re laced with something I can’t decipher.
Hurt? Pain? Disappointment? Discouragement?
“My mother. Who wants to talk about Emily. Or, actually, scold me about it.”
“Why?”
I know we can’t all worship our mothers like I do, but avoiding them seems a bit harsh. Even for Jensen. From what I’ve seen, his family is pretty united. His parents support his profession, even though I’m sure it’s not the best job for a politician’s son, and I know they attend a few games every now and then.
“I promised her I’d stay with Emily until my dad was elected. You know, keep up the happy family picture. Now, she broke up with me while my mother was pushing me toward proposing.”
Proposing? !
My eyes widen at that piece of information and I swallow to push away the unsettling sense it’s bringing me.
“You don’t love her anymore?” I ask, to cover up my unease.
“I don’t think I’ve ever loved her. My mom set us up all those years ago, and I let her because she was friends with my friend's girlfriend at the time. She was the perfect girl on my arm, but we don’t really have chemistry, let alone something called love. Whatever the fuck that might be.”
I narrow my eyes, my heart weeping for him when his usually confident face washes in sadness. Like he knows somewhere he took a wrong exit and he’s regretted it ever since.
“I don’t know love either,” I confess, hoping it will open him up more, my eyes focused on the table. “Other than the love from my parents. But I guess that’s a given.”
“Not really, because my mom’s a raging bitch.” A cynical chuckle comes from his lips.
Rapidly, I swat my hand against his chest. “Jensen, you can’t say that.”
“Why? Is Hell going to be unleashed on earth if I do? Are you going to call the newspaper?” The last sentence cuts me like a sharp knife, fast and hurtful.
Ouch.
Disappointed, I frown. “I’d never do that.”
“I know. I don’t know why I said that.”
With one quick move, he circles his arm around my back, something he has been doing alot in the past couple of days and it feels more addictive every time.
He pulls me flush against his body, our lips almost touching. My heart begins to race like a madman on crack, having no clue what his next move will be, but too curious to make a kick. Instead, I stay still, enjoying his arms holding me close.
“Do you want to know what you do to me?”
I suck in a sharp breath, completely frozen in his hands, feeling paralyzed for a brief moment as I try to gather my words. “N-no. Yes. I don’t know.”
Yet parts of me hopes to know.
His blue eyes darken, turning a deeper blue shade that reminds me of the sky at night, completely sucking me in. My heart pounds loudly against my ribcage while I wait in anticipation as I watch the specks in his eyes dance like stars.
He’s always been intimidating, throwing in a bunch of words he knows will bother me, as if he can’t wait to push me over the edge. I can handle Jensen. I can handle the rugged, no nonsense hockey player.
I did that every day for the past five years with a whole roster of those assholes. Sure, Jensen has always been the hardest to handle, but every single one of those players kept me sharp, and after a while, I knew exactly how to play their behaviors in my favor. I knew how to benefit from being on the receiving side of their tantrums.
But this is completely new territory. This unmistaken erotic tension throws me off guard, giving me no idea how to respond.
I’m supposed to remind myself I don’t get involved with any more hockey players.
I’m supposed to hate him.
But when my eyes dart to his mouth, I want to press my lips against his, desperate to taste him as I automatically part my lips.
“Rae,” he reverberates against my lips, and for a moment, I’m expecting him to close the distance. To give into this magnetic pull that tramples me like a herd of elephants.
“Yeah?” I crack, waiting.
I close my eyes, thinking he’s about to kiss me yet feeling unsure about it, when finally, he leans his forehead against mine. The heat of his head feels comfortable, as if I can feel a connection forming between us. As if a whole book of unspoken words over the years is transmitting from one mind to the other.
“I think we should call it a night.” His breath warms my lips while disappointment slumps my shoulders, and the connection is zapped into the smokey air.
He pulls away, letting go of my body, and I push down the ball that has been forming in my throat. I instantly feel beaten by the lack of his touch.
“Right. Yeah. You’re right.”
He inhales loudly, moving his chest up and his shoulders square as he gives me a troubled look before a genuine smile slips into place.
“Come on. Time for bed.”
I nod, doing my best to curl my lips at him in sincerity as I slide out of the booth.
He’s right. For the first time in history Jared James Jensen is right.
But then why does it feel so wrong?