He did, laughing himself, and for a moment, things were just like they used to be—back when Markus was around and James was just part of the furniture, like a second older brother with a hell of a lot more patience.
But as their laughter faded, so did the mirage of their memories. Because this wasn’t before. Not even close. As this weird tension between them had grown, they’d lost the tactile element of their friendship. Every touch between them, once casual, now felt charged—at least, it did to Nina.
And apparently to James too. They both seemed to realise at the same moment, with similar jolts of surprise, that she was practically sitting on his lap right now, having somehow managed to wiggle her way closer to his warmth. Christ, that was embarrassing. She saw the exact moment he noticed: the smile slid right off his face, replaced by an expression that was mostly uncertain, but partly… something darker. Something hot and secretive and guilty. The way his soft mouth hardened, the fire burning in his eyes, the tension in his muscles: it all reminded her of the way he’d looked when he’d settled between her thighs. On his knees. Worshipping her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, pushing the memory away. “Getting carried away with the old skin starvation. I—uh—I suppose I haven’t touched anyone in a while.”
“Why the hell not?”
His indignation was strong enough to draw an actual laugh from her. “I don’t know. Would you like me to send out an email questionnaire?”
“No need,” he said with a smile, wrapping his arms around her. “Just stay here a second, would you?” He was looking at her again, all fond and soft and sweet and… close. He had an amazing mouth. If he kissed her—
He’s not going to kiss you.
But if he kissed her between her legs—
Okay! Time to excuse yourself and masturbate your way back to common sense.
Nina did not excuse herself. Instead, she put her head on his shoulder without thinking too hard about it. There was only the slightest pause, the slightest moment of tension, before he relaxed beneath her. He tightened his arms around her just enough, because James had always been a fan-fucking-tastic hugger.
They sat for a while, silent and still. She felt the rise and fall of his chest in time with his slow exhalations, ghosting over her bare shoulder. She was… peaceful, for a few minutes. Peaceful, and impressed with herself for holding off all impure thoughts despite their closeness. And his handsomeness. And the way he held her, and the scent of him, intoxicating as usual.
Then he shifted suddenly, pulling away. She was jolted back into full awareness, and when she looked up at his face, she found…
Panic?
“Well,” he said, his voice rougher than usual. “As long as you know.” He looked over at the TV, seeming suddenly tense. “It’s getting late. We should really get on with the film.”
She blinked. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he gritted out, rather unconvincingly.
“James, if—”
“I swear I’m fine, Cupcake. But we have a busy day tomorrow, so we should…” He trailed off, which was baffling in itself. James wasn’t really a mumble-y, stuttering sort of person. “Come on,” he muttered, and then he put his hands on her hips and lifted her off him like she was a tissue. Which she most assuredly was not. Nina landed back on the sofa with an undignified plop, cheeks burning. What the hell was his problem? If he didn’t want—
“I’m going to get some water,” he blurted out, his words blurring together as he stood. Then he stalked out of the room like his arse was on fire, leaving Nina staring in confusion at the two full glasses on the coffee table.
Water.
He was going to get some water.
He was—
Oh. Gosh. Hm. Once upon a time, it would never have occurred to Nina that James Foster could be the victim of an accidental hard-on. But then, once upon a time, she’d never felt his tongue between her legs.
Well, now. This was interesting. And it certainly lessened the sting of their earlier I’m just not that into you conversation.
Of course, he still wasn’t into her in the ways that mattered. But she refused to let that thought linger when she was already flirting with sadness 24/7. Positive vibes only. And here was a positive vibe: she made James horny whether he liked it or not. So there!
Nice to know she’d abandoned all dignity, even inside her own head, when it came to this particular man.
He returned ten minutes later, looking much more like himself, if a little brisk. “You want to play the film?” he asked quickly, like if he spoke first, she might not ask any awkward questions. When he sat down, squashing himself into the corner, he managed to leave an acre of space between them.
Nina bit back a smile. “Sure. You know how much I love men in skin-tight outfits, even if they are subtle advocates of eugenics and a militarised form of vigilante ‘justice’.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” James snorted, his full lips curving into a smile.
“Hey, you asked.”
The look he gave her was warm, almost unbearably so. “I did, didn’t I?”
He pressed play.
Chapter Four
“Nina, sweetheart, you’re so fucking wet.” James sucked on her swollen clit and explored her glossy folds with his fingertips. When she arched toward him and moaned in response, satisfaction hit him like a bolt of lightning. He was good at this. He was good at her. Which made sense. When you knew a woman this well and watched her this close and cared this fucking much, it added up.
“Let me taste you,” he murmured, his voice so low he could barely hear himself. “I need to taste you.” He licked lower, savoured the tang of her honey, pressed his hard dick into the sofa cushions and rubbed his cheek against her inner thigh. Nina’s inner thigh. How the hell did he get here, at the apex of his fucking fantasies?
James had been so confused when she kissed him, but the confusion hadn’t lasted long. Knowing he shouldn’t think about her like this, shoving away the instinct to look too closely, pretending he didn’t see her face every time he touched himself—those things were easy. But when Nina came over and kissed him, when she slipped that soft, sweet tongue into his mouth and pressed her little tits against his chest and said his name—
That had been hard.
James was so fucking hard.
But he shouldn’t be doing this. He should stop right now. He should—
James woke up with a jolt and promptly fell right off the sofa. Jesus fucking Christ. His hip made sharp contact with the floor, his elbow knocked into the coffee table, but he barely felt it. His chest heaved with each laboured breath, his blood pulsed hard enough to fizz and ache beneath his skin, and his cock…
His cock was rigid and straining for release, his own precome seeping steadily and stickily against his stomach. He rushed out a sigh and licked his lips, desperate to chase away the phantom taste of Nina on his tongue. The slightly salty bite and deep, drugging perfume of her wet pussy. So wrong. And such a bad fucking idea. But God—he pressed a fist to his mouth, biting down to stifle a groan. His dick fucking hurt.
James heaved himself back up onto the sofa, the same one his Nina had writhed on as she came. But no, not his, she couldn’t be his—she’d only felt that way, for a moment. Lying there, those sharp eyes soft with the pleasure he gave her, her pussy spread open like a honey-dipped bloom, begging for his tongue, his fingers… Oh yeah. She’d felt like his then.