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But alas, I’m his stepsister who he just bought at a charity auction so we might as well get to making amends. At least mom will be happy.
I sidestep to leave him alone in the confined space. He can stay there if he wants.
My next footfall should take me around him, but he grabs my wrist—gently. Electricity shoots through me. God, what my body does at his touch. It’s ridiculous. He tightens his grip, pulling me back.
“What?” I ask, keeping my gaze averted.
“Hey.” How can a single word, spoken in a soft, deep tone bust through my defenses?
I lift my gaze. James’s eyes meet mine. Not quite the smoldering gaze, but it’s intense. Then lifts his eyes upward and tips his head slightly before he looks back down at me. A wicked grin breaks over his lips.
I don’t have to look up to know what he looked at. The question in my brain… Why is James, of all people, pointing out that we’re standing under the mistletoe?
“No thanks.” I dismiss his offer.
“But you love mistletoe.”
“I do. But you made it painfully clear on the Christmas after my eighteenth birthday that you would rather kiss a cactus than kiss me under the mistletoe.”
“Yeah… well, I was wrong. And even if it was true, I was an ass to say that. Let me prove that I’ve matured.” The pitch of his voice is laced with secret panty-melting ingredients.
I have no idea what Heath and Ford are doing, but I presume they’re watching since I detect their eyes boring into me.
Then the world fades and all I can think about is how much I want to kiss James. Am I so easily forgetting how I’d wanted a little peck at that ill-fated Christmas party when he turned me away in front of friends and family? Has my insane imagination learned nothing?
I surrender to his efforts, allowing him to pull me closer until the lengths of our bodies are touching. My neck instinctively cranes to meet his deep brown eyes.
There’s nothing brotherly there. This has to be a prank. If I’m going to revert to Plan E, for Escape, I better do it fast.
I snap out of the mental trance but continue to enjoy the way he holds me. “Are you about to lecture me on how stupid it is to kiss under poisonous plants? Isn’t that how you phrased it when you stormed away from me?”
“Like I said, I was an idiot.”
“Yeah, so, apology accepted.” Now I feel like an idiot. He didn’t apologize. Okay. I clearly can’t think when I’m close enough to see the tiny flex of gold in the brown of his irises. This is not good.
“You got it all wrong, Maggie. Not that there was any other way for you to get it. I was hiding. I was frustrated by my attraction to you. I felt guilty like I was betraying the family by how badly I wanted you.”
“Oh, right. I’m supposed to believe that you refused to give me a peck on the cheek and embarrassed me because you liked me. You have no idea how hard it is to be the shy, nerdy, plain girl who never gets asked out.”
He raises an eyebrow, causing me to realize my slip.
I scramble. “Not that I wanted you to ask me out. I just wanted to have fun with a simple sprig of mistletoe at a silly Christmas party where everybody else had been willing to humor me with a peck on the cheek. But no… you freaked and ran out of the room.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“I guess you didn’t get to hear the musings that maybe you had to vomit. Wasn’t that what you said, Heath?” In the split second when I spin around to face our other two brothers, indeed, Heath and Ford are staring at me. But it’s not humor in their eyes. It’s not revolt or confusion. I swear, it’s lust. Yeah, I’m going to call it lust because attraction is too much for my brain to process.
Heath stammers. “I…well… I’m sorry, Maggie. It was a bad joke.”
James spins me back to face him and cups my neck in his hands. The smolder. Oh my god, it’s in his eyes—the look I’ve always wanted. In slow motion, he leans down. I’m faintly aware that his lips have parted and I’m licking mine.
Am I going to let this happen? He pauses, mere inches from my lips. I try to anticipate the punchline, to be ready for the reveal, but even as I try to steel myself, I’m putty in his arms. I’m weak against his gaze.
He drops his lips to my ear. “I’ve wanted you for too long, Maggie. I know it’s wrong. I ran because I couldn’t hold back the erection I was getting for my little sister, who had finally turned eighteen. I’d played out too many fantasies of what I would say to you. And when you pulled me under the mistletoe for a kiss, it didn’t matter that I’d watched you do the same with our grandfather, with the neighbor, with your friends, even your girlfriends. None of it mattered. I was under the mistletoe with you and I couldn’t control myself.”
His lips trail over my cheek and crash into mine, obliterating my world. The kiss is chaste in a way. There’s no tongue. But there’s nothing innocent about it. It’s not a peck on the cheek. It’s not a simple kiss. It’s a promise of everything he’s repressed. He’s waiting for permission.
Or is that me? Is that my side of what’s happening? I’m so confused.
