rolling toward him, but she battled it, still upset.
Yet the first touch of his lotioned hands to her back made her moan with pleasure. Her skin seemed to suck the healing moisture off his palms, and she only knew how dry her flesh was when, for the first time all winter, she wasn’t hurting.
He rubbed slowly, carefully, spreading lotion onto her skin, but also working out muscles kinked and strained from work, from their disagreement, from wondering and worrying about him, about them.
She relaxed, eyes closed, and forgot about all of it, lost in the wonder of his stroking hands.
A shift of weight on the cushions roused her as he laid down beside her. She’d fallen asleep. She tried to wake up, to tell him about the drugstore boxes, but her eyelids were so heavy.
“Shh.” He stroked her hair.
At home, she slept lightly from a childhood of the Steps playing nighttime pranks on her. They’d mostly stopped, but only luck had kept her from being caught sneaking out so far. She really needed to get home…she tried to say that.
But somehow, with Rafe’s strong body curved around hers, she felt completely safe.
Just a bit longer.
Sighing, she snuggled in and closed her eyes again. He curled a heavy arm around her, and she fell deeply asleep.
Only to wake to screaming sirens.
Eyes flying open, she jerked up—or tried to. A log lay across her ribs. Other things registered. Her pillowcase was coarser than usual, and the wall in front of her wasn’t her attic plaster, but fabric. She was on a couch…with Rafe. The log was his arm, lifting now as he twisted for something behind him. She turned. He was reaching toward the coffee table.
“It’s your phone.” He stared at it, blinking, yawning as it screamed like a fire engine in his hand.
Synapses in her brain began to trigger, along with panic. “That’s my stepmother’s ring tone. Give it to me!”
“Better not.” He tossed the phone back on the table. “You’re not in any shape to deal with her yet.”
“How would you know what shape I need to be in to deal with her?” Cin tried to reach over him to snatch the phone, but she kept forgetting how big he was, and her hand extended a bare six inches past his ribcage. She waved her fingers as if they would stir drafts and float the phone to her. “You don’t know anything about her. I’ve never talked about her.”
“You haven’t said much, I admit—not in words. But your face when you say her name or talk about home speaks volumes.” He glanced at her, just the jut of his cheekbone and one dark lash visible, a sliver of rich blue between.
For a moment, Cin stopped waving her hand, the heat of embarrassment rising in her. “It’s personal.”
“It always is, with parents. I think the ringing has stopped. Don’t worry, it’ll go to voicemail.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said darkly. “What time is it, anyway?”
He yawned, checking her phone. “Don’t worry. It’s only five-thirty.”
“Five- thirty? ” She struggled to climb over him off the couch. “I should have had breakfast started. No wonder she’s calling. I have to go.”
“Will I see you tonight?”
“Of course. Probably.” She paused. “Um, my stepmother may be in a mood. Maybe it’s better if you wait for me to contact you, okay?”
“Okay.” He looked like he was going to say more.
“Look, it’ll be fine,” she said, jumping in first as she snagged her bra from the floor and started dressing. “It’ll blow over in a day or two. The Steps all have ball-on-the-brain anyway. It’ll be fine,” she repeated, as if that would convince them both. “Once I’m clear, I’ll message you. Couple of days at most.”
“Speaking of the ball, you really should go—”
“We’ll talk, okay? Once this blows over.” Dressed, she threw on her coat, shouldered her backpack, and ran out, certain she’d escaped the worst the day had to offer.
Until she got home, and her stepmother met her at the
Yet the first touch of his lotioned hands to her back made her moan with pleasure. Her skin seemed to suck the healing moisture off his palms, and she only knew how dry her flesh was when, for the first time all winter, she wasn’t hurting.
He rubbed slowly, carefully, spreading lotion onto her skin, but also working out muscles kinked and strained from work, from their disagreement, from wondering and worrying about him, about them.
She relaxed, eyes closed, and forgot about all of it, lost in the wonder of his stroking hands.
A shift of weight on the cushions roused her as he laid down beside her. She’d fallen asleep. She tried to wake up, to tell him about the drugstore boxes, but her eyelids were so heavy.
“Shh.” He stroked her hair.
At home, she slept lightly from a childhood of the Steps playing nighttime pranks on her. They’d mostly stopped, but only luck had kept her from being caught sneaking out so far. She really needed to get home…she tried to say that.
But somehow, with Rafe’s strong body curved around hers, she felt completely safe.
Just a bit longer.
Sighing, she snuggled in and closed her eyes again. He curled a heavy arm around her, and she fell deeply asleep.
Only to wake to screaming sirens.
Eyes flying open, she jerked up—or tried to. A log lay across her ribs. Other things registered. Her pillowcase was coarser than usual, and the wall in front of her wasn’t her attic plaster, but fabric. She was on a couch…with Rafe. The log was his arm, lifting now as he twisted for something behind him. She turned. He was reaching toward the coffee table.
“It’s your phone.” He stared at it, blinking, yawning as it screamed like a fire engine in his hand.
Synapses in her brain began to trigger, along with panic. “That’s my stepmother’s ring tone. Give it to me!”
“Better not.” He tossed the phone back on the table. “You’re not in any shape to deal with her yet.”
“How would you know what shape I need to be in to deal with her?” Cin tried to reach over him to snatch the phone, but she kept forgetting how big he was, and her hand extended a bare six inches past his ribcage. She waved her fingers as if they would stir drafts and float the phone to her. “You don’t know anything about her. I’ve never talked about her.”
“You haven’t said much, I admit—not in words. But your face when you say her name or talk about home speaks volumes.” He glanced at her, just the jut of his cheekbone and one dark lash visible, a sliver of rich blue between.
For a moment, Cin stopped waving her hand, the heat of embarrassment rising in her. “It’s personal.”
“It always is, with parents. I think the ringing has stopped. Don’t worry, it’ll go to voicemail.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said darkly. “What time is it, anyway?”
He yawned, checking her phone. “Don’t worry. It’s only five-thirty.”
“Five- thirty? ” She struggled to climb over him off the couch. “I should have had breakfast started. No wonder she’s calling. I have to go.”
“Will I see you tonight?”
“Of course. Probably.” She paused. “Um, my stepmother may be in a mood. Maybe it’s better if you wait for me to contact you, okay?”
“Okay.” He looked like he was going to say more.
“Look, it’ll be fine,” she said, jumping in first as she snagged her bra from the floor and started dressing. “It’ll blow over in a day or two. The Steps all have ball-on-the-brain anyway. It’ll be fine,” she repeated, as if that would convince them both. “Once I’m clear, I’ll message you. Couple of days at most.”
“Speaking of the ball, you really should go—”
“We’ll talk, okay? Once this blows over.” Dressed, she threw on her coat, shouldered her backpack, and ran out, certain she’d escaped the worst the day had to offer.
Until she got home, and her stepmother met her at the
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