Guarding Temptation - Talia Hibbert Page 0,11

think someone needs another hug, Cupcake,” he said. She laughed automatically, because this was a familiar move—as familiar as the nickname itself. The whole thing had started as a joke between he and Mark.

“Damn, your little sister’s a ray of sunshine.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s Nina: a marshmallow in human form.”

“A walking, talking cupcake.”

The punchline, of course, was her permanent scowl, pessimistic outlook, and love of the colour black.

But James always said it with such soul-deep fondness, she never felt like he was making fun of her. The moniker only annoyed her these days because it felt like a reminder to the both of them: This can’t happen. You’re off-limits. You’re my Cupcake.

Well, he’d certainly eaten her like one. She glanced at him with a smirk. If James could read her mind, he’d probably spend most of his time in a horror-shock coma.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded, and then, of course, he tickled her.

Nina’s smile turned into an undignified snort, then a reluctant shriek. She rose up on her knees to escape; he pulled her close. She batted away his hands; he rolled his eyes and kept going. James was a lot bigger than she was, and singularly determined to make her laugh.

He succeeded, too—as always. Within seconds, she was breathless and giggling harder than she had in years. “Oh my God,” she said finally, gasping for air. “Okay, okay, stop!”

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,