Love and Relativity by Rachael Wade Page B

right, so don’t even try and bullshit me.” His earlier shyness disappeared at the mention of the kiss, his gaze now cool and confident. This was familiar for him, knowing when a woman wanted him. He took another step closer. “You begged me once before. Parted your legs for me and pulled my mouth to yours, remember?”
    My eyes flickered up to his then back down, my cheeks turning warm. I didn’t want my mind to linger on the first kiss we’d shared, the one that almost turned into more—the one we never talked about. Now, the kiss in his truck forced the memory onto center stage, and he had me cornered.
    “You’re right,” I admitted quietly. “I did want it.”
    “And I’ve never wanted anything more. So why are you fighting it? Emma, if this is about Jen, I understand. Really, you know that I do. But you can’t go on like this and pretend that whatever we have here doesn’t exist.”
    My head snapped back up in his direction. “It’s not about Jen.”
    “I remind you of that night, of everything that happened.”
    Suddenly my appetite was gone, and I could care less about finishing the dishes. I glanced at the vegetables Jackson had begun chopping on the counter and then turned for my bedroom.
    “Where are you going?” He followed.
    Pushing the door open, I walked to my dresser. I pointed to the world map hanging above it. The corners were frayed, secured to the wall with thumbtacks, and small, colorful pins were arranged in diverse clusters across the countries. Europe was especially colorful. Jackson came to my side, his eyes moving from my face to the map.
    “Most of her stuff is still in her old room at my mom’s,” I said. “But I took this. All of the places she wanted to see.” I traced my index finger over Europe, stopping on the bright red pins over Paris. “She loved art and fashion. Paris was going to be her first stop. It’s going to be mine now. Well, in between semesters, after I get settled at my new school next year. Her dreams are mine now.”
    Jackson released a slow breath, letting it unreel from his lungs. “It’s good to know you meant what you said Saturday night—that you’re not giving up your dreams of leaving the island.”
    “No, I’m not. I’ve been thinking about it since our talk.” I turned to him. “You are a reminder of that night. And it does hurt...badly. It’s why I’ve created distance. I stopped showing up at your place back then because it became too difficult. At first I found what I needed with you, but then it was all too much. I had to step away. But you need to know that how I feel about us isn’t all because of Jen.” I gestured to the map again, hoping he’d get a clearer picture. It was about who Jackson was and who I wasn’t.
    It was about our differences.
    Jackson studied the rest of my room for a moment, settling on the edge of my bed, where he decided to take a seat. “So what else is it about?”
    I didn’t join him. He leaned forward to rest on his knees, his ice blue eyes raising to mine. Seeing his bruised face, torn-up clothing, and crazy mess of hair amidst my spotless baby blue bedspread and white ruffled throw pillows made me smile. He was sorely out of place, but so sexy it didn’t matter. I’d happily destroy the curtains and sheets with that man.
    I shook my brain fog, quickly pulling my head from the gutter.
    “Well, for one, it’s everything I’ve said before. I don’t want to be just another one of those girls you run around with for a good time.”
    “You could never be just another girl to me, Emma. Wasn’t I the one to say to you the other night that I know you don’t do casual?”
    “That’s just it, though. You do. You’re not going to change overnight, Jackson. You were a playboy before I met you, and you’re still one now. And that’s the last thing I would want, is for you to be something you’re not. Our relationship would be doomed from the start if it were founded on trying to change one