Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

WINTER

Sex dreams are totally conflicted. On the one hand, you wake up smiling and feeling like you were in on an amazing secret. That’s the good part. The not-so-good part is feeling guilty for visualizing supremely filthy deeds with someone you are definitely nothaving sex with, but wish you were.

I peeked under the comforter and checked. I wasn’t naked. The same pink Red Sox T-shirt and gray yoga pants were still in place. Clothes that James put on me so he could take me to the ER last night. I did remember him eying my boobs and saying they were spectacular when he was putting the shirt on me. Oddly, I felt no embarrassment about that. I didn’t care that he’d seen me. Maybe it would help him to finally make a move—

"The princess awakens." The subject of my dirty dreams rose from the comfy chair in the corner of my bedroom and sauntered to the bed looking utterly delicious as always. He must have left at some point to shower and dress before coming back. "How are you this morning?" He stayed after he brought me home.

I lifted my right hand for inspection. Bandaged between thumb and index finger with a stabilizer to keep me from moving it. There was a slight throbbing in the general area of the cut, but nothing I couldn’t handle. My threshold for pain wasn’t the problem. The sight of blood was what I couldn’t stomach. "Hi." I smiled at him and wondered how I’d ever repay him for being so good to me. "I’m okay…really, I am fine. James, I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you for all you did for me last night. God, I was so scared—"

"No need, Win. I was right where I wanted to be." To keep me from interrupting, he held up his palm. "I’m not saying you didn’t scare the ever-lovin’ shit out of me when you showed up at my apartment leaking blood all over, but I’m eternally grateful I was home." He carefully lowered himself to sit on my bed. "But don’t ever do that again," he said sternly.

"Believe me, I won’t. Jesus…" I dared to ask the question. "I was a mess, wasn’t I?"

"Yeah." His stern look morphed into a wicked grin, letting me know there were a lot more details he could have shared to answer my question, but he was being nice instead.

"What?" I looked at him, supremely jealous he was showered and gorgeous in his worn jeans and soft white shirt, while I was full-scale call-in-the-National-Guard disaster. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"How is that, exactly?" He made air quotes with his fingers and was adorably cute doing it.

I couldn’t help staring at his lips as I sought any kind of comeback that would take the focus off me. "Never mind," I said finally, realizing there was no good answer to my original question. An image of us kissing flitted through my head, but the details were frustratingly missing. "James, last night—"

"How much do you remember from last night?" He hadn’t lost the smirk on his face even a little, either.

"Umm…what do you mean?" Instant fear hit my gut. "Did I do something…b-bad?" My muscles delivered me a swift and silent "fuck you" when I made the move to sit up. The aches and pains screamed at me, and I couldn’t help the pathetic groan that escaped.

"Easy there," he scolded. "You need to take it slow, because your body has been through a helluva lot in the last twelve hours."

"Twelve hours. What time is it?" I tried to get a good look at the alarm clock on my bedside table but his frame blocked my view. "James, I…I have t-to be at the center by t-t-ten o’clock." I lost the small shred of composure I’d managed to bluff my way through. Hot tears fell as he drew me in with strong arms.

"Shhh, you’re all right. I got you," he said reassuringly while caressing me up and down my back. "And you didn’t do anything bad, Win."

Despite wallowing in my own personal ocean of self-pity, James was still here with me—helping me through the mess I’d made and taking care of me. I clung to him wildly, again feeling an odd sense of intimacy, or at least the flash of a memory of intimate acts between us. It was weird, and I had no proof that anything had happened, but my subconscious told me otherwise.

I pulled back from his embrace so I could look him in the eye, because seeing his reaction to what I was about to ask him was the only way I could get the truth. "But what did I do last night? You said something about wondering how much I remembered from last night. Well, the answer to that is nothing really after we left the hospital…so I need you to tell me," I pleaded.

His brown eyes with the green flecks—that made them so unique—flared enough for me to catch the surefire tell that there was more to the story of us and last night than I was currently aware.

"Was I…did I do something inappropriate, James?"

He shook his head back and forth slowly. "Not to me."

He answered every question like a lawyer, and it was starting to annoy me. "You mean I didn’t do anything to you, or that you don’t consider whatever it was inappropriate?"

"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.

Calmingmy 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."