That hunger grew easier and easier to see every time they touched. And Nina was starting to think about those times as something other than a mistake, something other than James’s biggest regret or the sin he couldn’t resist. She’d been so caught up in her own worries that she’d forgotten how steady, how solid, how consistent James Foster really was. But now she remembered: no matter what else changed, this man was always utterly, resolutely himself. And the simple fact was that James didn’t do casual sex.
Yet he’d fallen to his knees before her and dragged off her clothes and buried his face in her cunt. He’d stroked himself to orgasm while holding her gaze. He’d thrust into her mouth like he couldn’t do anything but.
So what, exactly, did that mean?
Her mind racing, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his throat. “You know,” she murmured into the vibrating silence, “you’re incredibly huggable.”
His hands settled at her hips and squeezed. She felt his dick swelling beneath her, waited for him to push her away and try to hide it.
He didn’t.
Instead James stayed right where he was, massive dick and all, his grip on her tight and possessive. He asked with a dark note of amusement in his voice, “Huggable? Is that what they call guys like me these days?”
“Maybe.” She tried to ignore the sensation spiralling from his touch—this was supposed to be a soft and mushy conversation, not a Horny Nina conversation. It wasn’t as if he’d just grabbed her tits, for Christ’s sake. And yet his big hands resting on her hips felt unbearably erotic.
If they were naked like this, he’d be gripping her tight and pushing her down onto his shaft.
She swallowed, pushing the thought away for later. “‘Bear’ would probably fit, too.”
He pulled back and arched an eyebrow. “Which means...?”
“You really don’t know?”
“I’m a lot older than you,” he sighed. “I don’t know all this slang shit.”
“First of all, six-and-a-half years is not a lot. Jesus, you’re so dramatic.”
“And second of all?” His smile was a blatant tease.
There was no bloody second of all. With as much dignity as she could manage, Nina sniffed, “Some things are said purely for dramatic effect, you know.”
He laughed, and in that moment, he was so achingly beautiful that the force of her need almost broke her. She put a hand to his face, unable to stop herself, hypnotised by the sight of his joy—the curve of his full lips, the freedom in his smile, the lines cradling his dark eyes. He calmed slowly, his laughter fading until nothing but white-hot intensity remained.
“Nina,” he said softly, and that one word let her know that everything was about to change. “I adore you too. I think my biggest fear might be losing you.”
Her heart constricted. Something fluttered in her chest, a mixture of longing and panic. She bit her lip bloodless and kept her hand against his cheek and—hoped.
Sometimes, hope worked.
“I was so afraid,” he went on steadily, his voice low and rough with emotion, “that I let fear make me a coward. But you know what, Cupake? I don’t think it suits me.”
She swallowed. Hard. “Funny. I’ve been thinking the same thing about myself.”
One of James’s hands slid under her T-shirt to touch her bare skin. He swept his thumb over the curve of her hip, and a mortifying little whimper tumbled from her lips. What was it about this man? Was it the way he looked her in the eye as he touched her, like he was starving for every little reaction? Was it the slow, tantalising ease with which he teased out her responses?
Or was it the love she’d kept locked up in her chest until it grew too huge to hide or contain or deny?
Um, yeah, probably that last one.
“James,” she blurted out, with no idea what she might say next, except that it would probably be embarrassingly honest.
Except he got there first.
“I want you,” he said. “I’m not talking about sex, Nina. I want you. Bad. I can think of a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t, but I’ve been trying to stop for a while, and I can’t, so I guess none of those reasons really matter. I just need to know if you want me, too—”
“I do,” she said, breathless, giddy, her mind scrambled with pleasure. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as if part of her feared this moment might be yanked away as suddenly as it had come.
“But how?” he demanded. His fingers slid over her throat in a possessive hold she’d never felt from him before—but he’d come close, she remembered; often, he’d come close. He was always holding onto her in a thousand little ways, touching her more firmly than a friend might.
And she’d missed every signal. Or maybe he’d just hidden them well beneath that calm, reasonable façade.
“How do you want me?” he demanded. “Because half-measures aren’t an option. I told you once I can’t be like those boys you take to bed. I can’t be that to you. I won’t. And if that’s all you’re offering, I’m not—I won’t take it.” He forced the words out between clenched teeth as if they hurt to say, but still, he said them. “We’ll just have to go back to the way it was before. I’ll still be here, Nina. But when it comes to this—this thing between us, I’m all or nothing.”
And with that, for the very first time, she understood. Everything. The hesitation, the dance of hot-and-cold they’d been doing, why she’d been unable to figure James out for the first time in her life. It had never occurred to her that he might honestly believe she’d put him in the same category as any other man in her life. He wasn’t like anyone else. Not in any way. But obviously, she hadn’t been very good at showing him that.
Hadn’t been brave enough to show him that.
She would be, though. For him, from this moment on, she fucking would be.
She traced a shaking thumb over his lower lip and let her question escape on a whisper. “Why don’t you trust me, James?”
“I trust you completely.” She felt his answer as much as she heard it, his breath shivering over her hand.
“But you think I’d hurt you?” she asked softly. “You don’t think I know what you need?”
Shock flitted through his gaze. He took a deep breath, his chest rising visibly. “We—before the first time you kissed me, Nina, you and I have never been like this.” But his voice caught. And the words were jagged, harsh. And his eyes burned.
“Are you lying to me, James?”
His jaw hardened.
“Are you trying to say, before the first time we touched, you’d never thought about fucking me? That when I caught you looking at me like you wanted to bite, that was all in my head?” Her words came out hot and slow, and each one seemed to pain him.
“I—shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t now.”
“Because?”
“I’ve known you too long. We’re friends. You’re Markus’s—” He sucked in a breath. “But shit, Nina, the problem is—the problem has been for a while now, that I don’t fucking care. This is complicated, and if it goes sideways it’ll be messy as shit and it will fucking destroy me, and I. Don’t. Care.”