Cin Wikkid: April Fools For Love (3 page)

“Hold that thought?” Still standing, he shifted his weight back on one leg, fingers to chin, a frown on his face, considering her. “I can see you’re tense. Let me do something about that.”

Confusion, reprieve, and a breathlessness mixed inside her. “What?”

“Nothing scary. Put your hands around the mug. Let the heat seep in.” His beautiful baritone radiated calm. “Close your eyes.”

Trusting him, she wrapped her fingers around the ceramic mug and let her eyelids slide shut.

Without sight, her awareness expanded. The heat of the mug ate away the chill in her fingers. The hiss and burble of the espresso machine punctuated the buzz of friendly conversation. The scent of her Americano stung her nostrils, the bright scent zipping almost directly into her blood, sparkling along her nerves, making her acutely aware of the truth of what he said. She
was
incredibly tense.

Until his fingers touched her shoulders.

Her awareness zoomed to the narrow points where his flesh pressed against hers, only a thin T-shirt between.

The moment sang with intimacy.

“Just relax,” he whispered into her ear, breath warm on her sensitive skin. She shivered with delight.

He began to knead gently, warming her muscles, slowly working the first knots out. Aches she hadn’t even been aware of receded. She groaned.

At the sound, his fingers dug more firmly into her muscles, working out deeper knots. Stress and tension dropped from her, chunk by chunk. Pain disappeared.

She moaned. “That’s sooo good.”

His answering chuckle rippled, dark and sexy, through her belly.

All her conflicted emotions fell away, replaced by one bell-clear thought—Rafe was an amazing man.

Whatever fancies she’d made up, he’d helped her, through tutoring, to be a better person. And now he was taking care of her, making her feel better physically. Her emotions transformed from the junior-high oh-my-God-I-
like
-him into something much more serious.

He might not feel the same for her, but he was worth risking the next step—finding out if he and she could become a
them.

He finished rubbing every kink out of her shoulders. She thought he was done and opened her mouth to tell him how she felt. “Rafe—“

“Just relax.” His fingers began to work up her nape.

She cracked one eyelid. “I am relaxed. I’m so relaxed I can barely keep myself upright.”

“So don’t.”

What a radical thought.
Her eyelid shut, and her neck muscles yielded as, with a sigh, she let her head fall forward, chin against chest.

He spread his fingers, pressing against jaw and temple and forehead, and massaged her whole face with tiny circles.

“Oh. Oh, my.” The words were slightly mushy as her jaw loosened and tension poured from her. Her scalp and teeth and arms and legs and every cell inside her unwound in one giant
kerwhang.

“There. Good.”

His magic fingers departed, and a moment later, she heard the scrape of chair.

Reluctantly, she straightened, closed her mouth, and opened her eyes.

He watched her over the rim of his coffee mug, cobalt eyes twinkling. He knew exactly how badly she’d needed that massage. Exactly how much she’d enjoyed it.

He’d known…even though she hadn’t.

Her heart beat faster. He knew things about her, not just how she liked her coffee, but important, secret things.

Rafe wasn’t simply the nice boy-next-door tutor. He wasn’t well-meaning but bumbling.

He was dangerous.

A little thrill sang through her. She immediately squelched it. His breathtaking awareness would make being a couple wonderful—but he’d make a terrifying enemy. If she ever got on his bad side, he’d know exactly how to crush her.

Be brave, Cinderella.
And start small. “Can I confess why I wanted to meet now?”

“Confession?” He tipped the mug and sipped. “Sounds like fun. Absolutely.”

Hesitantly, she told him. But as she explained, he didn’t seem to be hurt or angry or any of the things she’d expect.

Instead, he already seemed to know.

Somewhat confused, but with greater confidence, she ended with, “Is that something you can teach me?”

“Probably.” He tapped his lip with a thoughtful finger. “It’ll take some pretty intense, one-on-one work, though.” One black brow raised in challenge. “Are you up for it?”

“I’m not afraid of hard work. Are
you
up for it?” Daringly, she raised both brows in return challenge.

The corner of his mouth curved, on the scarred side, crinkling his grin into a rakish, devil-may-care expression. “Hours of intense work, one-on-one, with you? Oh, yeah. I’m up for it.”

The way he purred “
up
for it” implied things beyond study. Physical things that sent Cin’s stomach swooping. Her pulse pattered rapidly in response.

Then his eyes dropped to her mouth and heated.

Her whole body went
boom
.

She trembled, her heart pounding, her breath sawing in and out, on the cusp of bright truth. Her stepsiblings’ jealousy had taught her to cover herself in bad makeup and baggy clothes and work, the contemporary version of sacks and ashes. But Rafe, looking at her as if he was not only attracted to her but was on
fire
…God. She wanted to tear off her rags and
shine.

Clearing her throat, she managed, “The only problem is where.”

“Where? Where what?” His heated look was replaced by blinking confusion.

“Where can you and I study? I’m afraid we can’t use my place, and the public library is probably out—since I’m sure we’ll get loud on occasion.”

“Loud?” He gave her a quick grin. “Well, maybe sometimes.”

Does he mean…?

She swallowed hard. “Presentation will be difficult enough to teach without having to worry about Peeping Toms…”
Yikes.
She coughed and tried again. “I’d suggest the technical college, but most of my free time is after eleven at night. The college is too far away for me to get there easily that late.”

“So, we need a place that’s nearby, open late, and has rooms where we can be alone—loud?” One raised brow echoed the question mark.

He
had
meant what she thought. A blushing heat rose up her neck to her cheeks. “Where we can
talk,
yes. Since I assume coaching me will involve a lot of talking—”

“Relax.”

He bent forward and silenced her with a finger gently pressed to her lips. All the air left her lungs. His skin was warm and his finger felt nice pillowed against her mouth.

“I know what you meant, and I also know exactly the place.” He released her to pick up his backpack. Taking a card from one of the pockets, he wrote on the back.

He handed her the card just as a jangling started in her backpack—her cell phone.

Her breath returned in a rush. Her employer, Manny, had insisted each employee carry a phone to receive scheduling texts. The only way she could afford it was by begging her stepmother to add her to the family plan. Ten dollars a month, added grudgingly, paid for by Cin—and every questionable phone number on the call detail challenged stridently by Mrs. Wikkid—but Cin had considered it a gift at the time.

Something told her she was about to pay for that gift. She asked Rafe’s pardon with a sheepish expression and received a grin and a nod in answer. Extracting the phone, she saw MANNY in the caller ID window. Not as bad as her stepmother, but it could only be for one thing. With a sigh, she answered, “Cin Wikkid.”

“I wouldn’t call if I weren’t desperate.” Manny had a gravely, long-haul voice from years of smoking and over-the-road driving. He’d bought the sub shop franchise with hard-earned money and had worked just as hard to earn his employees’ respect.

“I know.” Even as she answered, she knew what was coming. “But I’m in the middle of a meeting—”

“Brenda called in sick, and Amy’s down with the flu. I really need you here.”

“Now?”

“Actually, ten minutes ago.”

She raised her gaze to Rafe.

His expression was so kind and understanding she wanted to weep. Covering the phone with a palm, she said to him, “I’m so sorry. Can we meet another time?”

“Sure.” But even as he said it, he shot to his feet and turned away, shrugging into his jacket.

Is he really angry with me?

Cold invaded her chest. With him busy with his jacket, she couldn’t see his expression. Not knowing what else to do, she said into the phone, “Okay, Manny. I’m coming.”

Limbs icy, she creaked to her feet. Rafe still wasn’t looking at her. Just as she’d finally worked up the nerve to meet, was ready to risk admitting her feelings, she’d pissed him off. She stowed her phone and his card in the front pocket of her pants, sighed, and turned to put on her own coat. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

“Me, too,’ he said, and her heart sank. Until he added, “But can I walk you to work?”

She spun around and gawked at him. He was zipping his jacket, grinning openly at her, warming her chill into pleasure.

“Oh. Yes. I’d like that.”

As she shouldered her backpack, he held the door open for her. Another flush of pleasure made her hot.

The winter wind outside bit through her warmth and her coat until Rafe came alongside her. His big body blocked the worst of the chill. Then his arm came around her shoulders, and cold fled entirely.
His arm is around me. Is this a friendly gesture…or something more?
If she shivered now, it was with happiness.

They chatted the whole six blocks to the sub shop, but she couldn’t remember a word they’d said.

Just outside the store, she turned to him. “Thanks for your company. I—”

“Shh.” Gripping her shoulders, he bent.

She blinked in surprise at his face, coming closer.
Is he…? Could he possibly…?
Her instinct shouted to turn her face up, to put her lips at ground zero.

But years of the Steps made her doubt. What if she was misinterpreting? What if he intended a friendly peck on the cheek? Fear kept her frozen an instant too long.

Rafe hesitated. Then he straightened and scrubbed a hand through his dark hair, a pained expression on his face. “Sorry. I thought maybe…but I was wrong.”

She was still confused, breathless at the almost-kiss. “Wrong about what?”

“Nothing. It’s okay.” He jerked a shrug. “I get it. Most women are turned off by the scars.”

His tone was abrupt, businesslike, as if it didn’t matter, but she could see it did—it mattered a lot.

Then he floored her with, “It’s okay that you don’t want me to kiss you.”

“Wh-what? No, that’s not what I…look, I was just surprised that you were…I mean, we don’t know each other that well, except of course we do, but… I was just surprised. I don’t mind kissing you. I-I’d like it.” She searched his face, knowing her own hope sat stark on hers.

“Oh? Oh.” His pained expression transformed into a smile, not his usual toothy grin, but soft and satisfied. “Right.”

Wrapping her in both arms, he kissed her.

His mouth was warm, beguiling. Her temperature quickly rose.

She’d been kissed before, but pecks stolen in high school hallways and under random mistletoe didn’t count, not compared to this sweet teasing, this delightful taste of male breath and skin.

All too soon it was over, but he kept his arms around her a moment longer. “When are you off?”

Her head whirled. “Off what?”

His chuckle rumbled against her. “Off work.”

“Why?”

“So we can go over the basics of presentation.”

“Oh.
Oh.
” She mentally slapped herself a couple times, bringing her brain back online. “Tonight? Eleven, but I still have to do the grocery shopping. I can meet you my next day off. That’s a week from today.”

“Perfect. Come to that address I gave you, the one on the card.”

Releasing her, he turned and sauntered away, whistling.

Cin wrestled the card out of her pocket and stared at it. N183 Downer Street, #301. “Rafe?” she called after him. “What is this place?”

He threw her his trademark grin over his shoulder. “My apartment.”

Her stomach dropped onto the sidewalk.

Chapter Three

March first. A new month. A new phase in her life. Cin told herself that was all she was excited about.

Deliciously aware of, but ignoring, the real reason.

She stood outside N183 Downer Street and gazed up at the three-story brick building, stars twinkling around it like sparks of delight. Smiling, she checked the bent, worn card in her hand once more. Not that she needed to, not really. She’d memorized Rafe’s address in the week since seeing him last. Hell, it’d been seared into her memory the first instant she’d looked at it.

No, the reason she pulled the card out of her jeans this time and all the others was the tiny thrill, the swoop of her stomach, that greeted her seeing the pasteboard was real.

The card was real, Rafe’s apartment was real. It was all real. Her feelings were real and maybe his were real, too.

And she really was here…
at Rafe’s apartment
.

There were no stepsisters, no stepmothers, no customers, no children playing in the park. Just her and Rafe.

Alone together.

There went that trill of excitement again. She shushed it as she stuck the card in her pocket, reminding herself that he’d invited her here, not so they could kiss again, but to go over mock-hearing procedures.

But a gal could hope.

Rafe buzzed her in with a cheery, “Cin! so glad you could make it.”

His exuberance gave wings to her feet. She skipped double-time up the stairs, her heart tripping almost as fast.

Yes, she was here to study, but they would be alone with each other,
could kiss.

Do even more.

Study comes first,
she admonished herself.
Work hard Cinderella. Be a good girl.
Her mother’s teachings resonated down the years, chiding her. With only a month, Cin would need every second of coaching she could get.

But rebellion, for the first time, scratched at her nerves. As she knocked on the door of Rafe’s apartment, she didn’t
want
to put work first. She wanted to throw away plans and play with him.

The door flew open under her fist, revealing his infectious grin. She grinned back, knowing she must look like an idiot, but not caring.

“I’ve got everything ready.” He extended a hand for her coat as he waved her inside. “Snacks, caffeine, and my tripod’s set up so we can record you—all I have to do is clamp in my smartphone. By the time we’re done, you’re going to knock them dead.”

She handed him her coat. “I’d settle for knocking them impressed.”

As he hung her jacket next to his on a nail doubling as a hook, she stepped inside and looked around the apartment. The studio was what she might be able to afford if her stepmother hadn’t claimed four-fifths of Cin’s paycheck in room and board.

Bowls of chips sat on a low, scarred coffee table along with a cafetière wafting rich mocha scent into the air.

“Rafe, thank you for doing this. The refreshments, but mostly taking the time to coach me. I can’t pay you now, but after I get a real job—”

“Hey.” He put a hand on her shoulder, recalling her attention, and searched her gaze. “I’m not doing this for the money. I’m doing it for
you.
”

Her heart must’ve catapulted into her eyes because his darkened, pupils dilating. His hands dropped to her waist, holding her steady.

Slowly, so she could have stopped him if she’d wanted to, he bent and pressed his mouth to hers. A brief caress, and another, before he sighed with pleasure and kissed her in earnest.

His lips were so beguiling. She’d waited for this so long. Alone, together…ah, homework could wait.

Cin drank in every sensation, the gentle pressure of his lips, the scent of his skin, the warmth of his breath. The soft sweep of his tongue, tasting of mint.

His hand slid into her hair, cradling her head. It made her feel warm and secure, but when he teased open her lips and his tongue began to explore, the deepening kiss sent shock waves from her head to her toes. Safe yet excited. Like a storm-swept sea, the contradictory feelings rose, crashed, and heightened inside her. She shuddered with them.

Maybe feeling her tremble, he murmured, “Sorry,” against her lips. “We should study.” He pulled away.

“Sure. But first…”
Sorry, Mom.
With a surge of hot reckless feeling liberating her, she wrapped her arms around his neck, lifted herself onto her toes, and planted one on him.

He gave a bark of surprise, but then his arms wrapped around her in return, pulling her flush to him, so tight they almost fused. She reveled in the feel of him. His torso was hot and strong under his cotton shirt, hard and rippling in a way she wasn’t. She strained against him, wriggling to feel every inch of masculinity.

Including the growing bulge in his jeans.

He nestled his face in the crook of her neck, pressing kisses to her heated skin. “You’re so soft. So sweet-smelling.”

“You aren’t. I
like
that.” Her voice came out in a low purr, and she rubbed against him until her nipples were taut and about to flare like matches.

“Cin…” He groaned. “Please, I’ve been wanting to touch you since we first met.” Hands going to the bottom of her T-shirt, he hesitated. “May I?” Not holding back in reluctance, but asking permission.

Pleasure flooded her.
He wants me.
“Please,” she groaned in return, quivering in anticipation of the feel of his hands on her skin.

He peeled up her tee, slowly exposing her ribs to the cool apartment air.

She shivered again.

“You’re cold. I’ll make it better.” Palms pressing to her skin, he ran his hands up her back, warming her, chasing the goose bumps away.

“Mmm. Definitely better.”

“Let me make it better yet.” His mouth claimed hers again, tongue sliding seductively against the seam of her lips.

She opened to his dark taste, richer than espresso and far more exciting.

With a deep groan of thanks, he thrust his tongue into her mouth. His sliding hands met her T-shirt, crumpled to a ring just under her bra. She moaned and opened her mouth wider, at the same time lifting her breastbone in offering. In answer, his palms slid around front, and his long fingers burrowed gently underneath the shirt.

Her heart pumped harder, knowing what came next.

Warm hands glided over her breasts, his heat penetrating her thin, cheap sports bra as if it was lace. Her nipples tightened and her breasts ached for more.

Recklessly, she wanted the bra gone—but she’d never been topless with a man before. Previous sexual encounters had been hurried and incomplete.

Now she hesitated. Men liked big tits. Privately she thought hers were nice enough.

But what if Rafe judged her as lacking? A chill invaded her stomach.

Then he’s not the man I think he is.

Right. Rafe helped her. Eased her aches. Made her feel safe.

He was worth the risk.

Breaking the kiss, she pulled out of his embrace. His eyes opened slowly, his expression a cute mix of rapture and dawning confusion.

Not confused for long, I hope.
She crossed her arms, grabbed her T-shirt hem and bra band, and pulled. Her clothes came off over her head. Tossing them, she stood half-naked before him.

His eyes widened, but his pupils constricted as he gasped in sharp surprise.

That gasp hit her like an arctic blast.
Doesn’t he like what he sees? Or have I done something wrong?

She’d heard some guys needed to control the pace, but hadn’t thought Rafe was one of them. “Sorry. Am I rushing you…?” She dribbled off as his gaze dropped precipitously to her breasts.

Gluing there and going dark with desire.

Warmth blasted through the frigid air in her lungs.
He definitely wants me.

His nostrils flared as if he was climbing the Himalayas. His Adam’s apple bobbed hard, as if he was swallowing the world. “You didn’t rush me.” His voice was a rasp. “You couldn’t. Cin, you are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. I want…” His gaze flew up to hers. “No, I
need
to taste you. May I?”

Swallowing her own planet, she could only nod.

His lids closed in an expression of blissed thanks. Cupping her breasts, one in each hand, he kissed them, hot, butterfly kisses on the tops that gradually slowed, deepened, and descended toward her nipples.

He drew one tight nub into his mouth.

Tiny explosions rocked her. She gasped as her sex clenched with need.

He suckled.

Explosions blasted, one after another, building into hot, singing desire. She let out a long keen as he tugged at her breast, a fire of need raging through her thighs and pelvis..

Still suckling, he backed her toward the couch, steering her around the low table of snacks until her calves came in to contact with fabric.

The touch of cushion brought ripe images springing into her head, her and him, horizontally.

She wasn’t sure if she tripped him or simply fell, but somehow his mouth drew off her breast like clamped fingers along a zipbag seal, her wet nipple shrieking in pained delight, and she was plunging for the couch.

At the last minute, he spun them, falling onto his back, pulling her on top of him.

Her palms splayed on hard chest muscles sheathed only in thin cotton. Her hips and thighs matched his, her feet crooked up in the air.

Her arms collapsed. Her nose landed burrowed under the open collar of his Oxford shirt, the scent of coffee and warm male skin filling her nostrils. His strong throat was under her mouth.

All she’d have to do was open her mouth to taste him.

Well, yeah.
She parted her lips, touching skin, fresh and clean and tangy.

He groaned, arching into her mouth. His hands slid down her back to shape her rump.

She rubbed her naked breasts against the weave of his shirt, tingling sensation sparking through her taut nipples, her bottom giving delighted quivers under his kneading hands. She was so aroused, her tongue peeked out almost automatically to touch his skin. Another gut-deep groan came from his chest. She licked him, quick touches with the tip that were more like soft kisses.

“Cin. You’re driving me wild.”

He buried one hand in her hair and peppered her temple and ear with kisses. His other hand held her hips as he began to undulate beneath her, fingers digging into her buttocks as he scrubbed. She slicked her tongue up his throat to his jawline, the rasp of stubble sending sparks of pleasure through her mouth. He stopped kneading with a low groan, his fingers tightening, biting into her jeans.

She nipped his neck in answer.

He roared and flipped them. Air left her lungs in a
woof
of surprise as she landed on her back on the cushions, her knees up and bent.

His hips docked between her parted thighs. Gazing down on her, his cobalt eyes blistering hot, he rubbed deliberately against her.

The tented fly of his jeans was like a fulcrum to her sex. Her clitoris rose as the ridge teased her, sliding in unbelievably sweet provocation.

She shuddered with need. “
Rafe.
”

“Please, let me touch you.
Please.
”

His hand hovered over the snap of her jeans.