23. RAE
23
T he knowledge that he lived here, someone that had such an impact on our modern-day society, still makes the hairs in the back of my head stand up, even though it's a warm summer day.
“Did you know he was the youngest Nobel prize winner at the time?” Jensen asks as we stand in front of Martin Luther King Jr.’s birth home.
The house looks like an ordinary southern home, with yellow paint and brown shutters. “Really? How do you know that?”
“I paid attention in history class.”
I turn my head, the disbelief dripping off my face. It’s hard picturing the bad boy of the NHL as a model student. Actually, it’s impossible.
“What?” He chuckles.
“Nothing,” I tell him. “Just didn’t take you for a history nerd.”
He wraps his arms around my waist, spinning me so that I’m facing him, then dips his chin.
“I said I paid attention. Not that I was a history nerd.” He takes my sunglasses off my face, placing them on top of my hair, while his other arm keeps me tight against his chest.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to look into your eyes when you are being a pain in my ass.”
“Isn’t that always?”
“Actually, yeah.” He brings his hands to cup my cheeks, giving me a sweet affectionate kiss that has me moaning against his lips. “Come on, let's grab some food. Bodi will join us later.”
He takes my hand in his, leading us out of the park. It’s scary how normal it all feels. Holding his hand as we stroll down the street, like I’m his. How he kisses me every chance he gets, like I’m his. How I love this feeling he’s giving me, like I’m his.
“So, what are you in the mood for?” I ask as we walk down Edgewood Avenue.
He pulls me closer before wrapping an arm around my neck. “That depends. Are you on the menu?”
“Just for dessert.” I seductively bite my lip.
“Hmm, I can wait for dessert.” He kisses my hair, bringing that flutter back. “I think.”
We walk in unison, glancing around the streets of Atlanta. The diversity is noticeable on every corner of the street, giving it a vibrant and lively atmosphere.
I like discovering new places, roaming new cities and learning about new cultures. Part of me is disappointed that I’ll probably never be able to travel to the other side of the world, but when I walk in a city like this, it makes me realize there is so much more to see in my own country. Every city has their own story, their own history and the differences are huge.
“Sushi!” Jensen suddenly shouts, pointing at a sign that says Nagasaki Sushi. “Do you like sushi?”
I pull a face. “Do they have fried chicken?”
“Err, I don’t know. But they have fried shrimp?”
“Close enough.”
We walk in, choosing a booth in the back of the restaurant with dim lighting. He orders a few sushi rolls, along with some fried stuff for me, and two glasses of wine.
Settling into his side, we wait for our food to arrive, while we make up stories about the people around us. I laugh at the ridiculous narratives we come up with, my mood getting giddier by the minute.
“I bet he's a big-time lawyer. A well-known name in the city.” Jensen nudges his head toward the man in a suit toward the front of the restaurant, before lowering his voice to a whisper. “But secretly, he’s an accountant for the gangs of Atlanta.”
“What! No way! He’s clearly a civil rights advocate, trying to help the homeless.”
He pulls a face. “You’re crazy. Just look at his face! It screams trouble.”
“ Your face screams trouble.” I shrug.
His gaze darkens, that playful glint showing in his eyes as he licks his lips. The look that makes me turn into a puddle every time.
“You want me to show you how much trouble I am?” My mouth turns dry, and the butterflies go on high alert again when he leans in.
His breath warms my face, and I part my lips in anticipation before he kisses me. The kiss has me swooning deep inside. Filled with affection and domination, it’s set in a perfect balance. A kiss that makes my brain stop functioning, and I couldn’t care less. His tongue moves along the seam of my lips, automatically parting them with a moan, right before the food is placed on the table. Jensen lets out a grunt, giving me another peck as if he has a hard time letting go.
“Good evening.” The waiter beams when we both give him a coy smile, mine with flushed cheeks. He places the food on the table, then lets us be before we dig in. For a minute, we are silent, enjoying our food, though he tugs me closer to him, rubbing my back in a sweet way.
It feels as if we’ve been doing this for months instead of days. As if we are two people who know each other through and through. With my previous boyfriends, there was always a level of awkwardness, of embarrassment. But with Jensen, I don’t feel insecure telling him how I feel, or feel the need to make things prettier than they are. He has already seen me growling and grunting more times than most men have anyway. No, with Jensen, everything feels real instead of make-believe.
My phone is laying on the table, face-up, and something lights up the screen. His eyes glance toward the device, noticing a message coming through.
Sean.
Jensen tenses beside me, his affectionate hand suddenly disappearing from my spine. “Is he still trying to get you back?” he asks, still chewing.
“Apparently,” I grunt, taking a bite of my fried shrimp, enjoying the soy sauce on my tongue.
“He calls you a lot?” I can hear the aggravation in his voice, and it warms my heart, enjoying his possessive behavior more than I should.
“Every day,” I say, honestly. “Every night too.”
“Every night?!” he asks, a slight shock on his face.
He throws his chopsticks on the table, then wipes the corner of his mouth with his napkin, aggravated. Leaning into the booth, he rests his arms on the back.
“He called you last night?”
“Hmm, every night. I put my phone on silent.”
“Do you ever pick up?” The look on his face seems interested. But the ticking of his jaw tells me he’s having a hard time keeping a straight face. I’m not sure what has pissed him off, but for some reason, it changes my lighthearted mood too.
“Why would I? I know exactly what he’ll say.”
“Yeah, what's that?”
“I love you, Rae. Take me back, Rae. I’m sorry, Rae. You know you’re the one, Rae. I will never get better than you, Rae. A lot of pleading, basically.”
I haven’t picked up Sean’s calls since we left LA, mostly because the man in front of me has kept me occupied every single minute. But also because it doesn’t matter. I don’t want Sean. I don’t pine after men, and certainly not the ones that cheat on me.
“Do you want him back?” His deep voice cuts through me, now completely pissing me off. I can hear the judgment in his voice, combined with a disappointment that shoots right through my heart.
“Do you think I’d be fucking with you if I wanted him back?” I sneer, offended.
Fuck this.
I’ve been nothing but honest with him from the moment he dropped his infuriating ass in my car. He has no right to look at me like I did something wrong.
Quickly, I slide away from him, crossing my arms.
Maybe I’m overreacting, but I don’t care. The suggestion pisses me off. I know I don’t owe him shit; he and I are nothing but a few blurred lines that will be straightened the second we drive into Jacksonville. But I am insulted that he would think I’d use him like some kind of rebound before running back to Sean Kent.
He might not know me very well, but I’m pretty sure he knows me a little better than that . Especially when I’m the one who’s been scolding him for five years about the photos on TMZ with any girl who wasn’t his girlfriend.
I’m not like that shit.
I don’t do that shit.
If he hadn’t been perfectly clear that he and Emily are broken up right now, I would’ve never let him get as close as he did last night. Let alone sleep with him if I was still interested in my ex-boyfriend.
And I’m disappointed he’d even feel the urge to ask. I assumed he thought more of me.
He shakes his head, pulling me back against his body in one swift move.
“Oh, no you don’t. Don’t you dare fight me because I asked you a fucking valid question.” He fists my hair, so he can tug my head back to look into my eyes.
I can feel his warmth enveloping me, covering me in a blanket that instantly simmers my irritation down, but not completely.
“I know you’re not some bimbo begging for his attention. But you also didn’t out him in the tabloids. You haven’t outed him with the team. I know what he did. You know what he did. Yet you haven’t said a word to anyone. It’s not hard for me to wonder if that's because when this is all over,” his finger flicks between our chests, “you want to give it another shot. Give him another shot.”
“You know what he did?” I frown.
“Come on, baby.” His thumb rests in the corner of my mouth. “He’s my teammate. It’s no secret he fucks around every chance he gets.”
Oh, my God.
The embarrassment washes over me, and I turn my head out of his grasp. I tried to keep it a secret, at least for the outside world. He’s one of the star players of the LA Knights. I was already getting hate for dating him, let alone if I started calling one of their favorite players a cheater. I told Johnny because he’s my uncle, but other than that, I kept my mouth shut. Told everyone the spark died down between us and we grew apart, when in reality he killed it the minute he stuck his dick into someone else.
“Hey,” Jensen says, grabbing my chin to force me to look at him again. “It’s not your fault. We all know he’s a player.”
“You all know? The entire team knows, and no one cared to tell me? You didn’t care to tell me?”
He grinds his teeth, a little stunned. “It’s not like we were exactly on speaking terms, were we? You bite my head off every chance you get.”
“And this proves exactly why,” I growl, pushing him off me and climbing out of the booth.
“Rae.”
“Fuck you, Jensen.”
Ignoring him, I stomp off, ignoring the curious gazes of the people I pass by on my way out.
“Rae, goddammit.” He mutters behind me.
I don’t know why I’m suddenly so mad at him again. Why suddenly he seems to piss me off like he has for the last five years. Maybe it’s the humiliation of finding out he knows I was being cheated on yet didn’t care to tell me. Maybe it's because I now have a hard time trusting men that have women lining up because of their celebrity status. Maybe I’m just confused about the last few days, knowing they will hurt me in the end. He will hurt me in the end.
Or maybe I just need someone to throw my frustration out on. But it could also be his offending words, implying I’d sleep with him before I run back to my ex.
Either way, I’m pissed.
The warmth of the summer night hits me in the face when I walk out the door and start to follow the pavement back to our hotel. The smokey smell of meat being grilled enters my nose, and my stomach starts to roar in protest when I walk by a BBQ food truck.
Ugh, I should’ve never listened to that dick.
Fucking sushi.
But being too stubborn to give into my hunger, I hold my focus forward.
“Rae, I swear to God, stop, or I will—” Jensen groans.
I keep walking, like an angry child, not in the mood for whatever pretty words he has for me, until his arms circle my waist from behind, his mouth now flush with my ear.
My heart stutters, the air lifted from my lungs as his hot breath caresses my skin.
He really needs to stop doing that.
“What’s happening, baby?” The rumble of his voice drums all the way to my core. “What made you all fire blazin’ at me?”
“Let me go!” He tightens his grip on me.
“Not a chance in Hell. Kent might be the kind of guy that will let you storm off in a fight, but I sure as fuck am not. You should’ve known that by now. I love to fight with you. What I don’t love ”—he twists me around in his arms, then crowds my space until my back is pressed against a brick building. The cold stone at my spine is a big contrast at the heat enveloping my front as I lift my chin up at him. His blue eyes look haunting, turning me on instead of scaring me away—“is you running out on me. This isn’t going to work if you don’t talk to me. Talk. Now .”
“I don’t wanna talk to you, asshole .” I narrow my eyes, trying to ignore his addictive, fruity, musky scent as I look up at him. Like berries freshly picked after rainfall, quenching my thirst.
“We’re back to asshole ?”
“If the shoe fits…” I trail off, turning my head to piss him off even more.
“What did I just do, Rae?” he shouts, incredulously. “Tell me, because I don’t get it. What the fuck did I do wrong?”
Closing my eyes, I push the emotion away, not willing to give him the satisfaction of my tears. Frustration washes over me as I swallow hard.
My mind is telling me he’s an asshole, but also telling me to not be so damn defensive. To stop acting like a raging teenager. My emotions are all over the place, dribbling around like a damn basketball. My mind has never been so clear and so confused at the same time. I don’t like the question he asked because I want him to think better of me, but also because the question made me aware of Jensen’s reputation, making me wonder if I’m simply the next flirt before he goes back to his girlfriend.
I don’t want to be that person.
I refuse to be that person.
His hands move to the front of my neck, cupping it before he brushes his nose against mine in a domineering yet affectionate way. “Talk, Rae.”
“I’m not a cheater.” I finally tremble out the words.
Confusion etches through his features. “I never said you were, baby.”
“You basically implied it by asking me if I want him back. Why would I be with you if I did?”
His eyes widen as if the realization hits, then he cups my cheek.
“I hurt you.”
I nod, trying to swallow the tears away. His thumb starts to brush my skin, and I lean into his touch. He drops his forehead against mine, then closes his eyes as he lets out a deep wheeze.
“I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
This whole situation is confusing for a whole lot of reasons, but I do believe him. I do believe he wouldn’t hurt me on purpose.
“I know,” I hush against his lips. My hands move up, holding his handsome face between my palms. My fingertips run through his rough five o’clock shadow, and without thought, I press my lips against his.
The act feels good. So good.
Like his lips are made for mine. Like his body is forever molted to be draped over me, fitting like a glove. Before this week, I couldn’t imagine taking anything from LA but a distant memory, let alone staying in touch with anyone.
Now when I look into the future, all I see is him.
Jared James Jensen.
He’s clawing his way through my dead bolted heart, and the scary part is that he’s succeeding. Holding a crowbar up in the air, he’s almost through the door. I can feel it. And it’s scaring the shit out of me.
It’s like safety and danger, twirling around in a daunting hurricane, ready to lift me up and never let me go.
As if he can feel my fear seeping from my body into his, he slowly pulls back, tugging me closer against his chest.
“What are you so afraid of, baby?”
That you’ll leave like everybody does? That you’ll find out I’m damaged goods?
That I’m falling for you…
“Stop,” he commands gently in my ear. His lips land below my ear, pressing a sizzling kiss on the sensitive spot. Feeling the warmth of his lips against my skin makes my thighs clench together as I close my eyes and fist his shirt in desire.
Fucking hell, I’m terrified of being with this man.
But fucking hell, I want him in any way possible.
He grips my chin, tilting my head so he can look at my face. “Open your eyes.”
I do as he says, parting my lips and looking into his eyes. They remind me of the blue of the ocean, and for a second, I wish I could drown in them forever. Swim in the safety of his gaze, knowing he will hold my hand and have my back.
“I want you. Don’t think about anything else. We will figure it out, okay?”
I hold still, searching his eyes for any deceit or betrayal, to look for any lies, but I can’t find any. They radiate only truth.
“Okay,” I finally say with a cracking voice, knowing I don’t have a choice.
Neither of us seems to know where we are going. But it doesn’t matter.
I already know I can’t let go anyway.