Page 36 of Never You

“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 cluewhat 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 canfeela 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.”

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