by Raine Miller
"You don't remember at all?"
Now I was the one shaking my head at him. His careful hedging of the topic had me worrying more and more with each passing second. "I told you I don't remember anything after we left the ER. Look, I'm very sorry if I did some—"
"How about I just show you what you did?"
I swallowed hard. "What did I do?" I asked again, but this time the words came out of me in a fearful whisper…I might not really want him to tell me. Please, God, don't let it have been sex. It would be tragically cruel to have been with James and then have no memory of the experience.
He snaked a hand behind my neck and tugged me in toward him. "You did this," he said just before his lips found mine and took possession of any last scrap of resistance I might've still owned. Didn't matter, because I didn't want to resist him any more than I wanted him to stop.
James was kissing me, and it was real. It wasn't some sexy dream fantasy I'd feel guilty about later, but the real man. The same man who took possession of my heart years ago.
Soft lips framed with just enough stubble to make sure I felt every tiny prick as his mouth came demandingly alive against mine, caressing with a heat that shot straight between my legs. When I felt the press of his tongue at my lips, I opened for him. I wanted him inside me. He thrust past my lips with a forceful tongue that swirled and swept over every place he could reach with it. I loved it all.
James kissed me as if he'd done it before. I believed him, even though I didn't remember what must have been a beautiful experience. My erotic dream made more sense now, but was still infuriatingly void of details.
None of that mattered though. I was lost the instant our mouths connected. Lost and so very busted, because this meant I'd kissed him last night—and not the other way around. Had I done more than kiss him? Did I say or do anything that'd let the genie out of the bottle? There was no putting her back in if I had. Could James know how I felt about him? There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but that time was not now. Right now, I wanted to be kissed by James, and let him take us wherever he might want to go. I wouldn't do a thing to stop him. I wanted this. I wanted him.
I heard myself moan in protest when he slowly pulled away with my bottom lip tugged between his teeth. "Open your eyes and look at me, beautiful," he said with his lips so close I could feel the tiny puffs of air against mine as he formed his words.
Our eyes met, and what I saw in those brown-green orbs told me he wanted this—every bit as much as me.
We stared at each other, both of us probably thinking about how we'd just crossed a line that separated a lifelong friendship from…something with the potential to be a lot more if we were both on the same page. All signs seemed to be pointing that we were indeed reading the same book. Thank God. I didn't think I could take his rejection right now.
I waited for him to make the first move toward talking about it, because that's how James operated. If he wanted to talk, he would.
But he didn't get the chance to say anything because one very distinctive ringtone—the Imperial March from Star Wars—crashed into our magical moment.
"My mom."
"I figured"—his beautiful mouth stretched into a cocky grin as he smirked at me—"and it's a nice ringtone, Win. And before you ask, I already spoke to Caleb about your accident this morning while you were sleeping. He knows, so there's a good chance your mom knows too."
I shut my eyes in frustration, prepping myself to endure my mother's interrogation. The fact she was miles away in Charleston wouldn't help smooth over her worry, either. "Awesome," I said sarcastically.
"They're just concerned about you, Win." He reached for my phone on my bedside table and handed it to me.
I took it from him and tapped the green button, steeling my voice with as much "everything is fine" as I could muster. My mood wasn't helped by James seeming to find the whole thing amusing as hell. Bastard.
"Hi, Mom. Happy Thanksgiving. How are things in Charleston?"
"Well, not very good when I've just been told my daughter has nearly cut her thumb from her hand," she replied with abundant tearful drama—just as I expected.
I counted to five before I said a word.
Calming my mother down from her panic involved James speaking to her for clarification on everything the doctor had said about my injury—none of which I could remember. The idea that it was probably a good thing she wasn't around for the ER trip wasn't lost on either of us. My mom could bring the drama when she wanted to. Still, I knew she loved me and was understandably worried if I'd be okay, and have the full range of movement and nerve function restored. I really hoped for that too when I listened to James's detailed explanations. I had done a number on myself, and the ramifications were startling when absorbing them with a clear head. I remembered virtually nothing of the treatment at the ER—not the diagnosis of the damage to the nerve that served my hand, or the suggested treatment. James had been my savior in so many ways.
"Yes, Madelaine. I'll take care of her today. You don't have to worry, it's already done." James and I shared eye contact as he patiently dealt with my mother. He was so good with people—confident and reassuring. If I didn't already love him after last night, and how he was gently controlling my mother, I would now. "And I was grateful to be here for her. Please don't worry, and enjoy your time in Charleston with your family," he said patiently before handing the phone back to me.
After a final goodbye with promises to speak again tomorrow from Lucas's in a group call, I ended it. There were texts from Caleb, Lucas, and Willow, and a missed call from Wyatt blowing up my phone, so I quickly dealt with those. I texted Wyatt to say it was sweet of him to call me when he was so far away, and that he'd better be home for Christmas or else. Then I sent a group text to the other three and told them I was fine and would see them all tomorrow morning like we'd planned.
Our eyes gravitated back to staring at each other after that. I was grateful he'd been able to deflect my mom so nicely. The alternative wouldn't have been easy or fun.
But my mother wasn't my biggest worry at the moment.
This thing going on between James and me needed to be addressed in some way at least. A kiss to the cheek or forehead is one thing—the kiss he'd just laid on me was entirely another. He'd given me an "I want you" kiss—a "let's get naked and make each other feel good" kiss.
"James, we need to talk about it—"
"But let's not just yet." His answer surprised me. He kept his eyes on me and brushed the back of his index finger up my cheek. I didn't sense any panic or urgency in him—just calm.
"You don't want to discuss that kiss we shared, or talk about whatever else I probably did to you last night and still don't remember?"
His grin widened a bit along with his eyes as he shook his head at me.
"You should just tell me, James." I had no intention of letting this go anymore.
"I know we need to talk about it, Win, I do. It's just that I don't think right now…today…is the right time for that discussion." He brought his thumb back to my cheekbone and caressed. "It was a long, traumatic night, and I was right there watching you struggle the whole time. There weren't that many hours for sleep by the time we got back here, and if I'm fucking drained, you have to be ready to drop." He looked at my bandaged hand and gently covered it with his own. "So, I'd like to propose how today will go instead of what you had planned, because your original one of dishing out Thanksgiving dinners for the homeless is definitely out. You know that, right?" The determined look he gave me was tempered with kindness, which oddly soothed me in spite of my disappointment.
My heart sank, but I was in no position to argue. I couldn't serve food. I wasn't totally confident I could shower and dress without some help. It was also an hour past the time I said I'd would be in. "I figured as much," I said with a heavy heart.
"Caleb and your mom already gave me full authority to make sure you take it very slow today."
I nodded and tried to get
a grip on my emotions.
"It can't be that bad, Win. They must have plenty of volunteers today. Don't people with guilty consciences flock in for Thanksgiving in particular to help out? I've seen it in the news before."
"Yeah…it's not that. They'll have plenty of help today, you're right."
"Then why so sad?" He dipped his head to meet me face to face. "You look devastated."
"The cookies for Shane and Brenna…I promised them, and now I'll just be another asshole adult who let them down. I hate being that person more than I hate the sight of blood." I felt myself choke up. I could barely make sense of my emotions right now. Part of me wanted to fall into a deep sleep of denial, and the other part wanted to hear James's version of the two of us after he brought me back home.
"You've never been an asshole and you never will be," he said as he pulled me into his arms. I breathed in his spicy scent and realized nothing felt better than being against James. Nothing. I was quickly becoming addicted and didn't want him to pull away. I could be happy being held by him for as long as he wanted to do it.
"James, I…I hate to ask this, but will you take me to the center…just so I can drop off the cookies to Shane and Brenna?" My mouth was against the side of his neck, and I had the furious urge to lick him there.
His arms tightened their hold as he comprehended my question. "On one condition."
"What is it?" What could he possibly want from me in return? James has never needed anything from me.
"You're coming with me to my parents' for Thanksgiving after."
Chapter Nine
JAMES
"I can do that," she agreed, maybe a little too quickly.
She surprised me by being so compliant, but her willingness only served as a turn-on for me. I wasn't complaining. Her eyes flicked over me as she studied my face, probably searching for answers about my motivations for asking her to join me at my parents'. I wasn't ready to do much beyond taking care of her right now, but the spark of an idea had taken root in my head anyway.
Something that would probably never fucking work.
But man, I wanted it to.
I didn't have the answers, but I sure as hell wasn't going to jinx everything by rushing in half-cocked. Which was never my problem around Winter. Ever. My dick was of the fully cocked variety if in the same room with her. Telling me she loved me last night wasn't helping in the sense of trying to keep everything cool and moving slowly. My heart was screaming one thing and my head another. Caution was a trait I'd adopted as a way to survive in my world, and I needed it now.
At least Thanksgiving dinner with my father, something I'd dreaded for weeks, was now a meeting I actually looked forward to. Which was a novelty. I wanted to see the look on his face once he realized who I'd brought with me. I wouldn't offer a sliver of an explanation to him either. Let him try and figure out what was going on without benefit of the whole backstory for once. My father wasn't going to be allowed to control my future. As long as I had breath in my body, any decisions regarding my life were my own.
Winter didn't even hesitate in agreeing to go with me. In fact, she'd gone along with every one of my demands since I'd started handing them down this morning—which only made her all the more irresistible. I could no longer mistake her consistent signals for what they truly were: naturally submissive behaviors. My thoughts flashed to an image of her bound naked to my bed, her body splayed out for me to worship. I felt my mouth begin to water, and everything below the waist start to tighten.
Off-the-charts-fucking sexy was how she appeared in my fleeting fantasy. I had to keep reminding myself that's all it was. A glorious fantasy.
For now.
And I'd thought I was attracted to Winter before last night. My inner Dom was dying to meet her inner sub with a craving so intense I feared how things might eventually play out. I'd never felt this way about any other woman before. Not Leah. Not anyone.
My previous belief that Winter and I weren't suited was quickly going down in flames, and I was running out of reasons to keep a distance. Especially when she looked at me like she was doing right now with her sexy eyes melting through my resistance like a hot knife into butter.
I told my conscience to fuck off and leave me alone for the day.
"You're amazing, Winter Blackstone." It was the truth.
"I am?" She appeared genuinely surprised.
"Oh yes, you are."
"How am I amazing, James?" The corner of her mouth lifted in a tiny smile.
Mostly you're amazing because you love me. "Well, for you to be so happy and caring of others after the night you had is damn amazing," I told her. "You've never complained, not one time. You let me take care of you last night, and you're coming with me today so I can keep an eye on you. And you're doing it willingly." And you love me. I picked up her bandaged hand carefully and brought it to my lips for a gentle kiss. "I rest my case."
She blushed at the praise, which only served to bring my cock to full attention. Again, not a surprise, but it helped me understand something about Winter that I'd suspected all those years ago on the day of her fifteenth birthday party.
She wasn't acting.
There was no artifice or deceit in her behavior.
Winter was simply unaware of how beautiful she was.
And she loves me.
Holding on to any shred of self-control became my one and only goal when she needed help to get ready.
"This is making you uncomfortable, isn't it?" she asked in a small voice.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" I managed through gritted teeth as I did the hooks on the back of her bra.
When she'd called me into her bedroom, I really didn't know what I expected. I guess I wasn't thinking much at all beyond getting to have her with me today.
It shouldn't have surprised me, though. I'd showed her the surgical gloves she had to wear on her hand when she showered, because her cut needed to remain dry in order to heal. I knew her hand was sore, and her range of motion limited, so twisting fingers behind her back to fasten tiny hooks tightly into corresponding loops wasn't possible for her to manage alone. It wasn't rocket science to figure out her need for assistance was real, but my dumbass brain practically shorted out when I walked in there and got a good look at her in some sexy-as-fuck black lingerie.
Her silky hair flowed down her back and shoulders in soft waves, taking my line of sight directly to her legs in black thigh-high stockings topped with some kind of high-waist garment that did amazing things to her already amazing ass. She shyly looked over her shoulder at me and asked if I would fasten the hooks of her bra for her.
I was fairly sure I groaned out loud.
I could do this.
Yeah, asshole, keep telling yourself that.
Easier said than done when all that stood between my hands and her beautiful body was…nothing. I could smell her orangey scent again and fought the urge to put my lips to her shoulder and have a taste. I'd never be able to stop if I went that far, so I pushed those thoughts aside as best I could.
"I can just tell," she said. "I'm monopolizing your time, and now you're having to help me with everything and even watch over me at Thanksgiving, on a day when you should be with your own family." She sounded sad. What the hell?
"Hey"—I finished the last hook and turned her around to face me—"let's make one thing crystal clear right now. When I'm with you my time is never monopolized. I'm glad I was the one to help you last night. I want you with me today for Thanksgiving with my family. You know how things are between my dad and me, and this year will be a lot less torturous having you there to help defuse him." I smiled at her. "I might even be looking forward to today a lot more than I was yesterday."
She smiled back. "Really, James?"
"Really, Winter." If she only knew how true it was.
"Okay then," she said with another shy smile.
I should've walked out right then.
I should've done a lot of things differently in my life.
Instead, I looked her over from head to toe and tried to freeze-frame the image of her in my head. So fucking beautiful and sweet, standing serenely for me in sexy black silk and lace…
She cleared her throat softly, bringing my delectable little eye-fuck to a crashing halt.
Our eyes met and held. What did she think of me staring at her mostly naked? This girl told me she loved me several times last night. Did she really love me? Did the heat of some well-delivered orgasms she didn't even remember change that? Had she meant it when she said it?
God, I hoped so.
"I'll let you finish dressing while I run upstairs and get what I need to take today." Which was code for: I really want to help you out of your sexy lingerie and spend the day giving you more orgasms, but I know I can't, so I'm leaving right now.
She nodded once and asked, "What are you taking?"
"Flowers for my mom, a bottle of Bowmore 25 for my father, and…you." I kissed her on the forehead because I couldn't help myself.
She stilled when my lips touched her skin.
I inhaled the luscious scent of her, and got the fuck out of her bedroom before I did or said anything else.
Those two little kids loved her. Shane and Brenna. Winter loved them, too. Anyone could look at them together and see the mutual bond. When we arrived at the youth center, I held my tongue at the less-than desirable location in Roxbury. I knew Brooke volunteered once a week now Winter had brought her aboard, and Caleb made sure his girl came and went with his driver, Isaac, who had standing orders to stay and wait the whole time she was there. I wondered what Caleb thought of his sister being at the youth center on the other days all alone. If he wouldn't let his girlfriend do it, then why was he okay with Winter coming here? I wouldn't let Victoria come here alone. Mind you, she'd fight me on it, so I'd simply bring Clay into the fight.
I'd have to broach the subject with him in a way that didn't bring attention to my interest in her. Winter would not be happy with sanctions on her freedom, but if it wasn't safe for her to drive in on her own, then too fucking bad. Her safety was far more important to me than her displeasure.
