“We care about you,” James pointed out softly, as he kept pace with her.
Care?
Dammit, she was drowning in care.
Frustrated, she stopped in the hall, propped her hands on her hips, and declared, “You never cared about me before Labor Day.”
His eyes flared wide in shock. “You know that’s not true.”
“What? You’ve always had brotherly feelings for me until then?” she scoffed, then, unable to help herself, leaned into hi
m and pressed a hand to his chest. When tension flowed through him, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.
“Things are different now,” he admitted, his tone rough.
With need? She didn’t know. Wasn’t sure.
For herself, she felt it.
The attraction.
It had always been there. She’d just felt like it had always flowed in a one-way direction from her end. Which was probably why she’d always thought he was a jerk.
Not fair, but when did sexual attraction, of the unrequited variety, ever have to be fair?
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he lowered his head. His breath brushed her lips, and she felt certain he was going to kiss her. Her own parted, ready and willing for his to brush hers, and then he jerked back.
“Not here,” he hissed. For the first time ever, he looked flustered. His jaw was hard, his eyes narrowed with need, and she recognized that if he was tense, it was because he was as overwhelmed by what flowed between them as she was.
Her hand burned where it had touched his chest, and she curled her fingers against her palm to contain the heat.
They stared at one another for what might have been a lifetime but was probably less than a minute. Desire arced between them, so forceful, so all-encompassing, her entire being seemed to be caressed by the power ricocheting between them.
“How many times? You’re too soft on her!” Her mother’s voice appeared from downstairs.
The shriek had them both jolting to attention. Hannah closed her eyes, utterly embarrassed by her mother’s words, but more than that... mortification battled with disappointment. That was the first honest look they’d ever shared. Where their walls had been lowered, and the truth had been allowed to flow between them.
Before he could see her humiliation, which had to be etched onto her face, she turned on her heel and stalked down toward her room. When he followed, his heavy steps trudging behind her, she wasn’t sure whether to demand he leave or insist he stay.
When she opened the door, she turned to him. Having come to a decision in those thirty seconds, and with a bravery and a recklessness that stunned even her, she declared, “If you come into my bedroom, you will be spending the night.”
He choked. “Hannah? What the hell’s gotten into you?”
“Not you yet,” she retorted with a snap.
His eyes were dazed, and his head kept shaking like he had a tremor as he processed her words. “This is insane,” he whispered under his breath.
Because she’d been using that word to describe herself earlier, she was quite satisfied that at least with this, they were on the same page.
She stared at him, totally unapologetic for her declaration.
She couldn’t do this anymore. Play with fire, only to be burned with little else to show for it.
She’d dance in the flames with him, revel in the scorch of lust that blazoned hotly between them, and after, she’d marvel at the brands. But no more suffering in silence, suffering alone.
When he stepped forward, passing by her to walk into her room, more satisfaction filled her.
She was surprised though. She’d felt certain if Aidan blocked him from coming to her, James would hold fast to that promise. That either meant his promises meant shit, which over the years he’d proven to be false—he’d done far too much for Aidan for that to be true. Or, he was as into her as she was into him.