Cin Wikkid: April Fools For Love (4 page)

Chapter Four

“Cin, please.” Rafe’s gaze was raw with desire. “I have to touch you or burst.” His arm trembled, hand just above her fly. “May I?”

Other men might have told her how beautiful she was, given her sweet beguilements and flattery.

Rafe’s naked need was sweeter than any words.

“You don’t have to ask anymore.” She cupped his face in her hands. “Yes.”

“
Thank
you.” He breathed it like a prayer.

His fingers made short work of her snap and zipper, then slid inside.

The pads glided hot down the skin of her belly, until he teased the elastic edge of her panties. She held her breath.

Gently, he burrowed under the cloth. Her breath returned in a rush as she began panting in anticipation.

His fingers petted down, down, brushing fire, until he touched the top of her mound…where he teased a fingertip into the top of her slit. She wiggled under him, needing his touch where she ached most. He only split his fingers, caressing the plump lips alongside her slit, gently gliding along them over and over until she was desperate enough to want to scream.

His dark chuckle said he knew it. Reading her mind again. Driven to extremes, she’d have smacked him one, but just then his forefinger slid alongside the raised hood of her clit.

She sucked in a breath. His finger burned, pad nestled intimately against her engorged clitoris.
More. Please.

Again as if answering her thoughts, he began to stroke her, strong, sure sweeps of his fingers. Each thrust of fingers wound her tighter and tighter, until she needed to groan or burst. She groaned.

As if that dark moan emerging from her throat was a cue, he added
wiggling.
Desire washed like molten gold through her.

“There it is,” he murmured. “The winch has locked the rollercoaster car into place.” He stroked. “Each crank winds it higher up the hill.” His fingers pressed and thrust. “The fall is coming. You can see it, winching higher and higher, nearer the peak. It’s not a matter of
if
but
when.
” Each stroke of his fingers wound her higher, tighter, until her whole body shook with trembling, swollen desire.

“You’re going to come for me, Cin.” He licked up her delicate breast. “Come hard.” He fastened onto the tip and suckled. “Come
now.
”

He thrust a finger inside her.

She didn’t shatter, she blew. Arching hard against the couch, she pushed her hips into his hand, driving his finger deeper inside her wet heat. Climax burned through her like a grain fire, bursting behind her eyelids like a thousand sparklers arcing their joy into the night sky. Her pores, her veins, her very heart opened, cleansed, made new.

As she came to herself, heart thudding in her ears, she realized he lay beside her now, arms around her, rocking her gently.

The bulge in his pants pressed insistently against her hip.

Her eyelids were so heavy, but she managed to raise them, viewing him through the veil of her lashes. “What about you?”

He smiled, not his usual, toothy grin, but slowly, sensually…then he shook his head.

“Don’t you want me?” Her voice came out smaller, more vulnerable than she meant.

“Oh, I want you. You’ll never know how much. But to get your presentation solid, we need every second. With only a couple hours before you have to leave—no arguments, you need to get your sleep—for now, we’re going to put aside our attraction to work.”

Our
attraction. For a moment, that was all she heard. Pleasure and hope flared inside. Her attraction to him was
mutual.

Well, that was obvious from the bulge in his pants. She brushed fingers over it—gently, but he shivered at even her light touch. It must be hurting him something awful.

She was awed; she was humbled. He was putting off his own relief for her, putting aside his needs to concentrate on hers. Doing this
for her.
Not
saying
he was putting her first, but
doing
it.

So different from what she’d grown up with, all those “laters” which meant never. Not using words, which were easy—and easily forgotten—but actually getting down and doing the work, paying the sweat equity, to make it happen.

But that had been Rafe all along, hadn’t it? He was there for her. Her mother would approve. Cin did, too.

For a moment, she let herself be sad for the little girl she’d been. She wished she’d known Rafe then. Maybe her childhood wouldn’t have been so lonely.

With a shake of her head, she got up and started dressing. Like as not, he’d have been shoved aside when her father died, just as her friend Milly Maus had.

No, it was better by far that she’d met Rafe now, when she had a choice in the matter.

A chill passed over her. She barely had time to remember Milly’s birthday. How would she find time to nurture her new relationship with Rafe?

She shook it away. He knew her freedom was limited. She had to trust he wouldn’t give up on her in the few short months before she got a place of her own.

She glanced at him, moving lithely as he rose to set up the phone to record. Her body shivered in agreement. Far better she’d met him now, when she could completely appreciate the man, mind, heart,
and
body.

Four nights later, Cinderella snuck home from Rafe’s apartment—and a second tutoring session with benefits—to see every light in the house was on.

She froze. From the look of it, all three Steps were up. She’d be caught for sure. Ez or Yl would ask where she’d been, or worse, her stepmother.

She’d have to lie.

Her stomach shrank in on itself. She hated lying.

But the only alternative would reveal Rafe.

Swallowing her anxiety, she squared her shoulders and pushed open the door.

“There you are!” Ez swooped in, grabbed Cin’s coat, and yanked her inside so hard Cin almost tripped over her own feet. “Come help me with my hair.”

“No!” shrieked Yl. “Help me with my makeup. I can’t get this look right.” She shoved a slick magazine in Cin’s face, opened to a supermodel with dramatic, kohl-outlined, Pharaohic eyes and golden powder that sharpened already stark cheekbones. Yl, with her plump, pink cheeks, would never achieve the look.

But to Cin’s shock and relief, neither Step seemed to notice or care she was panty-dragging late.

“Slow down. I only have so many hands.” And her fingers weren’t quite as clever at certain things as Rafe’s… She shivered silently in delighted memory before setting everything aside to focus on her stepsisters. “Ez, you need help with your hair? Is this for the Prince Industries ball?” When Ez nodded so vigorously her hairpiece worked loose and bobbed like an excited horse’s tail, Cin bit back a smile. Although really, what else could it be for? That was all Ez and Yl talked about.

“We’re doing a dry run tonight,” Yl said. “To see how long it will take us to get ready.”

“
We?
” She blinked at Yl. “But you’re still in high school.”

“I’m nineteen.” Yl drew herself straight. “Legally, I could already be married and celebrating my one year anniversary.”

“My mistake.” Cin raised conciliatory hands. “Let’s go up to Ez’s room and see what we can do.”

It was late, and Cin was tired, but the Steps’ enthusiasm was infectious. Soon, she was discussing the merits of flounces and seed pearls and gold fairy dust face powder with as much animation as Ez and Yl. A strange yearning rose in her to go too, and the agreeable way her stepsisters were treating her as she brushed powder on Yl’s cheeks relaxed Cin’s guard enough for her to venture, “Maybe I’ll see if I can find a dress on sale and attend the ball with you.”

Both Steps froze. The temperature in the room plummeted ten degrees.

“You?” Yl’s jaw dropped so far it was almost comical. “Go to
the
event of the year?”

“Don’t be absurd.” Ez’s thin nose jutted toward the ceiling. “
You
can’t go to the Prince Industries gala.”

Maybe being with Rafe had made Cin want to shine just a bit more. She forgot her raggedy clothes and hacked hair and protested, “Why can’t I go? The invitation is to E-for-Everyone. It’s even in the newspaper.”

“Oh, Cinderella,” Yl tittered. “That’s just for show. I’m surprised you didn’t pick up on that.”

“The very idea is ridiculous,” Ez agreed. “Rich socialite Gideon Prince? He’d never stand for a common sandwich girl to show up at his ball.”

Common sandwich girl?

Cin’s fingers curled around the wooden handle of the makeup brush. There was that term again, used with the same derision, meant to belittle her. But she worked hard at the sub shop. It was a source of pride, not shame. She snapped, “Then Prince Industries shouldn’t have put an open invitation in the paper.”

Ez and Yl just snickered.

Cin finally got to bed at three in the morning. On days she worked the early shift, she normally would have risen at four thirty, but she couldn’t quite stomach setting her alarm for the usual time. Deciding to skip her shower, she set her alarm for five.

She woke at four a.m. in a panic. Today was Milly’s birthday.

Without money, with everything else that had happened, Cin had never gotten her card.

Wait. Spring break started yesterday. Milly’s in town. I can wish her a happy birthday in person.

When Milly was home on break, she worked third shift at her old high-school employer, a twenty-four-hour coffee and donut shop. She’d be getting off at six a.m.

Cin crawled out of bed and shivered through a cold shower, musing how unusually sensitive she was when she scrubbed between her legs…until she remembered her pre-tutoring session with Rafe, another encounter where he’d kissed then thrust her to heaven while smiling off his own obvious painful bulge. She abruptly came awake.

But with a silly grin.

After leaving breakfast warming in the oven for the Steps, she crept out of the house before dawn. The late winter air, floating taunting bits of snow, wiped the grin off her face.

Cin arrived at the donut store just as her slender, redheaded friend backed out of the service entrance. Milly turned, holding a long dry-cleaner’s hanging bag so it didn’t drag on the alley concrete. A skirt peeked from the bottom.

“Don’t tell me,” Cin groaned. “You’re going to the ball, too?”

“Cinderella! Hey, hon.” Milly nodded at her dress. “You mean the Glass Slipper Ball? Of course I’m going. It’s only
the
event of the century.”

“So I keep hearing. Glass Slipper Ball?”

“That’s the official name. Don’t know why. Hold this off the ground while I put on my hat and gloves? I had no idea it was this cold out.”

“Sure.” Cin took the hanging bag. “Why do you have your dress at work?”

“I’ve been shopping for months at all the big stores, found nothing, nada, zip.” Milly dug in her pockets, came up with a green knit toque and popped it on her head. “Last night before work, on a whim, I stopped in the boutique next to the donut shop. And there it was, the perfect gown. Of course, I snagged it, but I didn’t have time to take it home before work. I hope it doesn’t smell too much like sugar and grease.” Another pocket excavation came up with matching mittens.

“Might be an aphrodisiac for the right kind of man,” Cin said. “I’d have thought you’d make your own dress.”

“I could, but my degree is in theater costuming, not fashion.” She pulled on the mittens, then held out one hand for her dress bag. “Not that I won’t tweak this one.”

“Ah.” Cin handed over the bag. “Walk you home?”

“Is that my birthday present?” Milly dimpled. “Perfect. We haven’t chatted in ages.”

Cin winced. “My schedule is just so tight. When I’ve got a real job and can afford a place of my own, I can call you—”

“I was just teasing. But as long as you brought it up, I am a bit worried about you. You’re always future this and future that—but what about
now?
Do you ever stop and have a little fun?”

“If I stop for fun now, I won’t graduate, and neither will Ylanda.”

“Then at least move out from the Drudgery Domicile.”

“On what I make?” They’d had this argument before. In fact, on graduating from high school, Cin had even floated the subject of moving out with her stepmother. She still remembered the Widow Wikkid’s strident reply.
“If you leave—don’t
ever
come back.”
Without access to the house, how could she help Yl? “I just have to hang on a few months longer.”

“If I weren’t living out of state—“

“Your family still wouldn’t have room for me.” That was another reason she hadn’t moved in with Milly. The Mauses already crammed eight people into a two-bedroom house. Even if they’d gotten around all that, on minimum wage, money still would have been dicey. “It’s not much longer. I’ll leave when I have my accounting degree and a real job, and Yl has her high school diploma.”