everywhere. Snaking a hand under her coat, she sawed at herself until the itch eased.
Not that Rafe ever said he was falling in love with her. Just as well, actually. If he’d used the words, it’d probably have brought back pained memories of her stepmother, pinching her eight-year old cheek and smiling crocodile teeth at her father while simpering, “I love all our daughters.” Words of sweetness and light that were a lie, because her stepmother’s hand was sharp and mean.
Cin straightened with a frown. She thought she’d put her anger behind her. Apparently, childhood strife, unresolved, was like quicksand, always lurking.
Or maybe it was just Rafe’s tender treatment of her was such a vivid contrast to her stepmother’s, that it woke Cin’s resentment.
Rafe did for her, gave to her, time and money and effort, tangible things that made whatever they felt for each other seem more real. Maybe not love, not yet, but she definitely felt a connection, a real bond built on tangible action.
Her shoulder itched. Reaching his apartment building, she pressed his button with one hand while she scratched under her collar with the other. When he responded almost instantly, buzzing the door open, she danced inside. He made her so happy. But it was more than that. Sure, she loved the way he made her feel, but she adored the way he made her life better, made her better.
And the kissing and touching and climaxing was burning hot.
After that second time, he’d asked her to touch him, too. They’d caressed their way to mutual pleasure once, twice, sometimes even three times a night before Rafe called a stop to their love play, more and more reluctantly, to get to work.
Love play. Dangerous words. She knew most guys Rafe’s age considered what they did on the bed—and the couch and the table and the shower—just various bases on the way to a sexual home run. Emotional attachment never entered into it, much less love.
But the way Rafe looked at her, the way he touched her, so gently, so reverently…it couldn’t be just physical for him. He held her so tenderly afterward. There had to be more going on in his heart, had to be at least an echo of the torrent in hers.
She flew up the stairs, pausing only a moment to scratch the small of her back.
Yet he continued to draw the line at actual intercourse.
She frowned, not knowing what to think about that. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it was just sex to him, and the reason he didn’t go through with intercourse was it represented too much of a commitment.
She was hoping otherwise. She hoped it was simply as big a step for him as it was for her, a solidifying of their growing relationship.
Because tonight, they’d take that step.
She dashed up the rest of the stairs. Tonight, she’d worked up cash reserves and the nerve to visit the drugstore and buy a box of condoms and a box of contraceptive sponges. Two methods were better than one, right?
Tonight, she was wearing matching underwear.
She knocked eagerly on his door. Tonight, she’d offer, and if he said yes, they’d make love completely.
Rafe opened to her, gaze going over her head.
“Hey.” She grinned.
His return grin seemed mechanical, and he immediately turned away. He seemed…distracted.
Odd. She stepped inside, shutting the door after herself. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you going to the ball?” He still didn’t face her.
“What ball?” As if she didn’t know. It was all her stepsisters could talk about, all anyone could talk about, even Milly.
“The Glass Slipper Ball. Gideon Prince is using it to pick his wife.”
“Are you going?” she countered.
“Not with this.” He glanced over his shoulder, briefly touching the scarred side of his face.
Cin was momentarily stymied. She honestly didn’t see the scars any more and had forgotten that they must pain him. Apparently, they also made him want to hide. She rushed to his side.
“You could go if you wanted to.” She brushed her
Not that Rafe ever said he was falling in love with her. Just as well, actually. If he’d used the words, it’d probably have brought back pained memories of her stepmother, pinching her eight-year old cheek and smiling crocodile teeth at her father while simpering, “I love all our daughters.” Words of sweetness and light that were a lie, because her stepmother’s hand was sharp and mean.
Cin straightened with a frown. She thought she’d put her anger behind her. Apparently, childhood strife, unresolved, was like quicksand, always lurking.
Or maybe it was just Rafe’s tender treatment of her was such a vivid contrast to her stepmother’s, that it woke Cin’s resentment.
Rafe did for her, gave to her, time and money and effort, tangible things that made whatever they felt for each other seem more real. Maybe not love, not yet, but she definitely felt a connection, a real bond built on tangible action.
Her shoulder itched. Reaching his apartment building, she pressed his button with one hand while she scratched under her collar with the other. When he responded almost instantly, buzzing the door open, she danced inside. He made her so happy. But it was more than that. Sure, she loved the way he made her feel, but she adored the way he made her life better, made her better.
And the kissing and touching and climaxing was burning hot.
After that second time, he’d asked her to touch him, too. They’d caressed their way to mutual pleasure once, twice, sometimes even three times a night before Rafe called a stop to their love play, more and more reluctantly, to get to work.
Love play. Dangerous words. She knew most guys Rafe’s age considered what they did on the bed—and the couch and the table and the shower—just various bases on the way to a sexual home run. Emotional attachment never entered into it, much less love.
But the way Rafe looked at her, the way he touched her, so gently, so reverently…it couldn’t be just physical for him. He held her so tenderly afterward. There had to be more going on in his heart, had to be at least an echo of the torrent in hers.
She flew up the stairs, pausing only a moment to scratch the small of her back.
Yet he continued to draw the line at actual intercourse.
She frowned, not knowing what to think about that. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it was just sex to him, and the reason he didn’t go through with intercourse was it represented too much of a commitment.
She was hoping otherwise. She hoped it was simply as big a step for him as it was for her, a solidifying of their growing relationship.
Because tonight, they’d take that step.
She dashed up the rest of the stairs. Tonight, she’d worked up cash reserves and the nerve to visit the drugstore and buy a box of condoms and a box of contraceptive sponges. Two methods were better than one, right?
Tonight, she was wearing matching underwear.
She knocked eagerly on his door. Tonight, she’d offer, and if he said yes, they’d make love completely.
Rafe opened to her, gaze going over her head.
“Hey.” She grinned.
His return grin seemed mechanical, and he immediately turned away. He seemed…distracted.
Odd. She stepped inside, shutting the door after herself. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you going to the ball?” He still didn’t face her.
“What ball?” As if she didn’t know. It was all her stepsisters could talk about, all anyone could talk about, even Milly.
“The Glass Slipper Ball. Gideon Prince is using it to pick his wife.”
“Are you going?” she countered.
“Not with this.” He glanced over his shoulder, briefly touching the scarred side of his face.
Cin was momentarily stymied. She honestly didn’t see the scars any more and had forgotten that they must pain him. Apparently, they also made him want to hide. She rushed to his side.
“You could go if you wanted to.” She brushed her
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