“The almost-crying,” she corrected. “But not quite, because I’m so very brave and composed.” At his baffled expression, she sighed and broke things down. “I know what these people value in a woman. Fragility is currency, but I’m not pale enough to be permitted too much delicacy.”
He grimaced. “How the hell do you know this stuff?”
“Life. Also, you think I twiddled my thumbs throughout my journalism degree or something?” God, she looked so smug. He loved it.
“Lots of people have journalism degrees, Cupcake. I don’t see them popping up on morning television whenever they like.”
She rolled her eyes. “Maybe because those people don’t also have years of social media expertise, a solid platform, and a story that’ll make the average Joe feel better about himself for doing the bare minimum in the fight for equality. And Jasmine, of course. Most people don’t have Jasmine. She knows a horrific amount of people and they all love her terribly.”
James nodded, feeling slightly dazed. Why did he enjoy it so much when Nina went into professional, capable mode? Well, he knew why—because capable women turned him on, and Nina was the queen of capable. But understanding his weaknesses didn’t make them any less inappropriate. He was supposed to be supporting her here, like a friend, not drooling over her.
Maybe she wouldn’t mind both.
Maybe not. But this probably wasn’t the time to find out. Even if something in his chest tugged at its chains and demanded to know when would be the time.
Later.
“You think it’ll help?” James asked.
“I know it will. Visibility can be dangerous, but the right kind of visibility is like a shield.”
“Alright then,” he murmured, nodding slowly as he absorbed everything. “In that case… I guess we should celebrate tonight.”
Her tongue snaked out to wet her lower lip, a smooth glide over lush skin. For a moment, he wondered if she was reading something into his suggestion—something more interesting than a takeaway.
She smiled and said, “Dinner’s on you.”
Chapter Nine
Funny how quickly things could turn on their head. For the first time in a long time, Nina felt exactly like herself—powerful, invincible, ready for anything. Or maybe a new and improved version of herself, since she now realised it was okay to reclaim those feelings with a little help.
James was adding to her current high by acting as if she was the smartest, most successful person in the world. He beamed at her all day until they locked up the garage and went home. He ordered Thai food because gang jay was her favourite, even though she knew he’d prefer curry goat. He even got two lots of chips so she didn’t have to share—and then, to top it all off, he pulled up Buffy on Netflix.
“Seriously?” she asked, her grin unstoppable. “Even though you think Angel’s a creep?”
“Even though I think Angel’s a creep,” he agreed. “And even though someone needs to call Social Services on Buffy’s mother. This is your night, Cupcake.”
And she was so thoroughly content, she couldn’t even scowl at him for calling her that.
Although, as the evening rolled on and night fell outside their window, Nina did notice a little chip in her newfound contentment—the same one that had been there before.
Everything was perfect, except for the fact that James wasn’t hers.
Yet, whispered that little streak of invincibility inside her.
The growing darkness was thrusting her back in time, back into her memories of seeing James, touching James, right here on this sofa. She shifted on the cushions, giddy nerves and remembered arousal making her restless. Crossed her legs, uncrossed them, flicked a look at him, then stared rigidly back at the screen. She knew what she was going to do. Couldn’t stop herself, not even a little bit. Now was the time. Double or nothing.
The only problem was, she couldn’t quite figure out a smooth way to do it. Romantic relationships were not Nina’s area of expertise. How exactly did one start the Hey, I’ve been thinking, and you might be it for me conversation? She couldn’t think, not while her nerves continued to insist in Eeyore-like tones that she was about to be rejected once and for all.
Because at the end of the day, this was real life. And in real life, happy endings weren’t guaranteed. Friendship plus sexual chemistry plus the indescribable energy that whirled between them did not necessarily equal romance. People, she reminded herself, could be platonic soulmates.
But platonic soulmates didn’t accidentally make each other come. Did they? Maybe they did. She didn’t know much about the whole thing. She’d Google it.
Or you could ask him, Chapman.
Well, yes. There was that.
Nina cleared her throat. But when she spoke, her voice still sounded hoarse, cracked, on edge. “James?”
He gave her a questioning look that… changed, after a moment. As if he’d seen something in her face. That something made him wordlessly pause the TV, made him turn toward her on the sofa, their knees brushing. Which was inconvenient, since even the slightest physical contact with him made her stomach flutter and her train of thought list slightly to the left.
“Nina?” he asked softly, his gaze burning. His hand found hers on the sofa cushion, and slowly, cautiously, he tangled their fingers together. The action, and the feel of his warm, calloused palm, loosened the last of the nerves in her chest. James made it easy to be brave. He made her drunk on the urge to match him, to give him what he deserved. Because this man’s natural restraint didn’t stop him from reaching out to her again and again when she truly needed it.
And now she knew she was strong enough to offer him that same vulnerability.
“Do you know,” she asked slowly, “what you mean to me?”
Something flared in his gaze. He shifted forward almost infinitesimally, then back again, as if barely containing himself. His throat moved as he swallowed, hard.
“I think,” he rasped after a moment, “that you could tell me.”
“I adore you,” she croaked, the words foreign and stiff, squeezed awkwardly from her throat as if she’d forced squares through circular holes.
He smiled, slow and—though he probably didn’t realise it—sexy as hell. “Do you, now?”
“Oh, fuck off.” She rolled her eyes and turned away.
“No, no, keep going.”
“I have nothing else to say,” she sniffed—but that wasn’t true. She had so much to say that she was overflowing with it, but the heat and the happiness in his eyes were making her think that James might actually want what she was about to offer. And that possibility, which had seemed so impossible for all this time, was somehow making her even more nervous than she had been before.
No; Nina didn’t understand it either. Apparently, caring about people—in the personal way, not the principles of basic human goodness way—turned her into a scared little baby. Ick.
“Liar,” James murmured, as if he’d read her mind. As if he saw the secrets she was tempted to swallow. The tenderness in his voice said he didn’t mind her hesitation, that he’d guide her through it.
Then he caught her by the waist and pulled her into his arms. She squeaked in surprise and grabbed his shoulders automatically—but it only took a second for Nina to settle in like she belonged there, her thighs straddling his effortlessly. Just the act of spreading her legs around him made something low in her belly tighten. She pressed her fingers into hard muscle and bit her lip. Met his gaze and fought not to shiver at how close they were, his breaths ghosting over her skin, the slight edge of hunger in his expression impossible to miss.