Susan Mallery - Cinderella For A Night

But first, he had to fix what he’d done wrong.

Cynthia closed her eyes against the pain that filled her. Tears continued to spill down her face and she didn’t know how to make them stop. She’d told herself earlier that if she gave in and started crying, she would never be able to stop. Unfortunately she’d been right.

She loved him and he’d left her. She loved him and he’d gone to be with another woman. Right now he could be in her bed doing all those things with her that he’d done with Cynthia. That’s what hurt the most. Not his potential infidelity, but that when he’d been making love with her it hadn’t meant anything. If it had, he wouldn’t have been able to go to another woman’s bed so quickly and easily. She hadn’t been a person to Jonathan, she’d been a body.

She drew her knees to her chest and held her pillow tighter. Her mother had tried to warn her that he wasn’t for her. She tried to tell herself. But then she’d blindly fallen in love with him. As if she had a chance to make it work with a man like him. As if this really was a fairy tale and she was Cinderella and the handsome prince was going to make everything work out all right.

The pain inside of her grew until it threatened to consume her. She couldn’t breathe anymore. In an effort to gain control she told herself that the hurt didn’t matter, but she knew it did. She had responsibilities. However much she might be hurt now, she had a life she had to live. Somehow she needed to find the strength to see Jonathan again and do it in such a way that he wouldn’t know she’d been the least bit upset by what had happened tonight. She needed to face him with cool confidence, the veneer of sophistication firmly in place. He probably expected her to act like a child, but she would be the adult in the relationship. With her head held high.

In the morning she would get up and look him and the world in the eye. She would be strong. But for tonight, while she was all alone, she needed to lie here and ache.

A splash of light cut across her tightly closed eyes. She sensed and shifted, then looked up. Much to her horror, Jonathan stood standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She gulped back a sob and wondered what she was supposed to say or do. It was one thing to plan on a coolly, confident entrance to fool him, it was another to be caught in the middle of a heart-wrenching tearfest.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “About a lot of things. I’m sorry I didn’t know you were a virgin. I would have done things differently.”

“No,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “You wouldn’t have done anything at all. You would have run far and fast in the opposite direction.”

“Maybe. Or I might have taken things more slowly, making your first time better for you.”

She blinked. Tears cleared from her eyes and he swam back in focus. Better? Was that possible? “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“What about my apology for not holding you?” he asked. “I should have done that after we made love. My only excuse is that I was so surprised to find out the truth that I panicked. Twenty-six-year-old virgins aren’t something a man runs into every day.”

She sniffed. “I guess not.”

He took a step toward her. Light from the hallway spilled into the room, illuminating him in silhouette. She could see the shape of his body, but not his face or his expression. Unfortunately he could see her clearly, in all her puffy, blotchy glory. She flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Life was not fair.

“I also want to apologize for tonight,” he said, moving farther into the room. “I’d made plans with Martha Jean a couple of weeks ago. To be honest, I’d forgotten about them. After you and I made love, I was concerned about…” His voice trailed off. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her. “I had several concerns,” he amended. “Going out with her seemed to address a lot of them. However, it was wrong and the coward’s way out.”

She brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Is she…” Cynthia wasn’t sure what she wanted to ask, let alone how to phrase the question. “Is she important to you?”

He paused before speaking. He was close enough that she could see his determined expression. It was as if he had an agenda for their conversation and had every intention to get through it.

“Not in the way you mean. I’ve known Martha Jean for years. Her hobby is marrying wealthy men and then divorcing them. We get involved when she’s between husbands or fiancés. I find her uncomplicated. But tonight, it got complicated with her. Mostly because of you.”

“You don’t like a lot of complication in your life, do you?”

“It’s something I avoid at all costs,” he admitted, then traced the curve of her cheek with one finger. “You are a complication I didn’t expect and therefore forgot to avoid.” He hesitated. “Cynthia, you’re a bright, beautiful young woman. You have definite world views which I do not share. You see the best in people. I would imagine that one of your greatest goals is to marry and have a family.”

Her mind lingered on the word “beautiful” and she wanted to know if that was really how he saw her. Of course she couldn’t ask. “Don’t most people want to get married and have a family?”

“I suppose they do. But I’ve managed to avoid both for many years and I’m not likely to change that now.”

“But you already have. What about Colton?”

He stared at her as if her question had stumped him. “That’s different.”

“Like it or not, you have a family, Jonathan. You’re a father.”

He stiffened slightly and withdrew his hand. “That’s not the point. What I’m trying to say is that you need to find a man who is more like you. Someone who shares your world views. Someone optimistic and young.”

“What does age have to do with anything?”

“More than you realize. I can’t be what you need me to be.”

“That’s interesting because I don’t even know what I need right now,” she admitted. Some of the pain in her chest had eased. Obviously Jonathan hadn’t intended to hurt her. He’d been trying to escape. But from what?

“Did you and Martha Jean, um, well…Were you two, ah, intimate tonight?” she asked.

He held her gaze. “No.”

Relief filled her, chasing away the last of the pain. “Good,” she whispered.

“No,” he said sharply. “Not good. Not good at all. I should have had sex with Martha Jean because we both need to know that there is no connection between you and me.”

“A connection?” A faint tickling began on the inside of her chest. Hope, she thought. Or at least a lessening of despair. “You felt we connected when we made love?”

“Not exactly,” he hedged. “It was different from that. But it wasn’t just sex, either. Which is what it needs to be.”

Definitely hope, she thought dreamily as she pushed herself into a sitting position. “Why? Why can’t we have made love and connected?”

He glared at her. “Have you been listening? I’m absolutely the wrong man for you. Nothing about this is going to work. I’ll only end up hurting you more.” He grabbed her upper arms and pushed her away. “Quit looking at me like that. I’m not anyone you should care about or trust. You work for me. I will not take advantage of that.”

He said all the right things, but she could see the fire in his eyes and feel the heat radiating from him. His lips told her no, but his body screamed that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

“I don’t think you’d be taking advantage of me,” she said. “Not if I was a willing participant. You keep thinking of me as a young, inexperienced girl. While I’ll admit that I haven’t been with a lot of different men, I’m not that young. I’ve been a legal adult for years.”

He stood up. “This is crazy.”

“I know, but that doesn’t change how I feel.” She slid to the edge of the bed and rose to her feet.

He took a step back. “I’ve warned you, Cynthia. I’m not the right man for you. If you think I hurt you tonight, you’re not even close to imagining the pain I could bring you. You want me to be a saint, but if I have any likeness to a supernatural being, put me on the side of the devil.”

“I don’t think the devil would work so hard to save an innocent. And that’s what you’re doing…trying to save me from yourself. But it’s not necessary. I’m stronger than you think. I can take care of myself and protect myself.”

Cheap talk coming from someone who had spent the last hour and a half in tears, she thought briefly, then dismissed the warning. Her mind, her body, even her soul was not her own anymore. She’d lost the power to walk away from this man, if she’d ever had it at all. What she knew was that he wanted her and that he would fight that wanting because he thought it was the right thing to do.

Didn’t he know that his nobility only made her love him more?

“You want me,” she breathed.

He swore. The harsh, guttural words should have frightened or offended her, but they did neither. She smiled.

“I would have expected something more original,” she teased. “Or at least something more eloquent.”

“How’s this?” he asked as he moved toward her.

His arms came around her and his mouth claimed hers. She went willingly, losing herself in his kiss and his embrace.

His body was warm and solid against her own. His familiar scent surrounded her, making her feel safe and arousing her. She thought about all they’d done together last time and desperately wanted to do it all again.

His tongue swept across her bottom lip. She opened for him, but he didn’t enter. Instead he straightened and looked at her. “I can taste your tears,” he said hoarsely. “I’m so sorry. The hell of it is I can’t promise not to make you cry again.”

“I’ll take my chances,” she said lightly.

“You shouldn’t. You should run.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “I’m not going to do anything to convince you to stay.”

“You don’t have to,” she told him, then wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his. “I want you,” she whispered.

He shuddered, then hauled her hard against him. This time his tongue plunged into her mouth, touching and tasting and taking. It was a demanding kiss, a man’s kiss. She reveled in his passion, his need, pleased that she was able to bring him to such a frenzied state.

His hands were everywhere. On her back, her arms, then reaching around and cupping her breasts. Now it was her turn to shudder and shiver as he teased her nipples into tight peaks.

Desire filled her, making her ache all over. Every millimeter of her skin grew tight and sensitized. When he backed her toward the bed, she went willingly, still kissing him deeply.

He murmured something against her mouth. She didn’t catch the words, but she knew what he was saying. That he wanted this, wanted her. She would have returned the compliment if she’d been able to, but she couldn’t stop what she was doing long enough to speak.

She clung to his shoulders then moved her hands down his back. His muscles jumped in response. She cupped his rear and felt him flex against her. The hardness of his arousal brushed against her belly. Her body leaped in response. She needed him as much as she needed to breathe. Nothing else mattered.

Still kissing her, he tugged at the hem of her sweatshirt. They were forced to part so that he could pull off the garment. Then he laughed and swore. “We might as well get naked now,” he said, reaching for her jeans.

While he expertly unfastened the zipper, then removed her bra, she found herself barely able to undo a single button on his shirt. It wasn’t just that his hands and arms were in the way as he removed her clothing. It was that she trembled so much she couldn’t force the small white buttons through the openings. Finally he pushed her hands away and quickly began removing his own clothing.

Cynthia, already topless, with her jeans barely clinging to her hips, decided to pretend to be brave. She shoved down her pants and panties, then stepped out of them. When she was naked, she stood and waited for Jonathan to notice. By then he’d taken off his shirt, socks and shoes and was just stepping out of his trousers. Her gaze settled on the hardness trapped by his briefs and she found herself unable to move.

Unaware of her interest, he hooked his thumbs inside the wide band of elastic and pulled off his underwear. When he straightened, she stared at that most male part of him. The part she’d only caught a glimpse of the last time they’d made love.