Page 149 of Brazen Mistakes

RJ rolls to his side, tugging me down. “It’s nothing. I probably should have iced it when I got back, but I wanted to get down here to you.”

I find three more dark patches across his side and chest. “RJ, what the hell happened?”

“Trips and I sparred. Trust me, I have fewer bruises than he does right now.” He pauses, pressing a finger into one of them, then grimacing. “But mine are probably deeper.”

Capturing his hand in mine, I drag it away from where he’s pressing on the dark spot. “Why the hell were you two beating each other up?”

“It was that or stalking the stalker and jumping him in a back alley. Trust me, sparring was the better choice.” Something dark crosses RJ’s face, and I feel like there’s more to the sentence, but he doesn’t continue.

“Did you have to hit each other so hard?” I gripe, pushing RJ onto his back so I can see the damage clearly.

He laughs. “Sugar, it was my own damn fault for not blocking fast enough.”

I shake my head, rolling off the bed and pulling on the dress I was wearing earlier. “I’m getting you ice,” I state, and he doesn’t stop me as I march out to the kitchen.

Jansen’s sitting cross-legged on the counter, a tub of ice cream in his lap, his phone in his hand. “Hey,” he says, before nodding toward my hallway. “Sounds like RJ’s first date is off to a great start. But I don’t think I can send those kinds of photos to his sister, so you should go do ordinary date things soon. I’m almost out of ice cream, I’ve been waiting so long.” He holds out a spoonful for me, and I can’t help but roll my eyes as I lick the spoon clean.

“You’ll be waiting for a while longer,” I say, moving past him and pulling out an ice pack from the freezer, wrapping it in one of the kitchen towels.

“You fucked him so hard hehurt himself?”

Taking off the other towel from the stove, I throw it at Jansen, but it flutters down a good two feet from him. “No, of course not! Apparently, he and Trips were sparring.”

“Fun.”

Shaking my head, I turn back to my room. “Why are none of you worried about friends beating each other to the point of possible broken bones?”

“Because sometimes the adrenaline is worth it, beautiful,” he says, hopping off the counter and trailing me down the hallway.

“Of course you’d say that.”

He shrugs, then hurries past me to open the door, diving over RJ onto the other side of the bed, almost falling off the edge while RJ scrambles to cover his junk in the blanket. Both of them avoid the wet spot.

“Jansen!” I scold, but he shows no inclination to leave. Getting him out of here would be harder than just letting him stay.

RJ scoots back until he’s leaning against the wall, my sheet draped across his lap. “I don’t need ice, sugar. Trust me, I’m fine.”

Ignoring him, I drop to my knees next to him, carefully pressing the ice against the worst-looking bruise.

“Maybe on your balls?” Jansen asks, waving his spoon at RJ.

RJ swats the spoon out of his hand, and it shoots across the room, clattering under my desk.

“Hey,” Jansen cries, scrambling to get it. “Now it’s all dirty.”

“And you weren’t invited in. So get out and don’t talk about my balls.”

Jansen sits back on his heels, half under my desk. “What about if I were complimenting your balls?”

“Jansen!” RJ and I both shout, and he cackles, retrieving the spoon.

“Fine, I’ll just wait in the hallway for the rest of your date to start. I want some nice candid shots, hand holding, maybe a kiss under a streetlight. Think you can do that for me?”

RJ points at the door, and Jansen saunters past, stopping to press a kiss to my head.

“Don’t forget to smile,” he says, the door clicking shut behind him.

RJ slumps back, tapping his head against the wall. “I guess I found the downside.”

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