Overnight Cinderella by Katherine Garbera

breath sawed in and out as if she’d just completed a marathon. He knew Cami was innocent when it came to sex. Her attitude in general said as much.
    â€œWhy did you stop?”
    He hugged her close and wished he never had to let her go. He released her because that kind of weakness would lead to destruction. Dammit, man, get it together.
    She wrapped her arms across her chest and tried hard to not look at him. He felt like a mean bully. He reached out to touch her but stopped himself. He would have a relationship with her only if she understood that it was based solely on sex.
    â€œI’m not the kind of guy you want,” he repeated. It had become very important he not mislead her in any way.
    â€œHaven’t we had this conversation before?” she asked, her tone the tiniest bit sarcastic.
    â€œI mean it,” he said, forcing her chin up so she met his gaze. He rubbed his finger over her lips. They were still swollen from their earlier kiss, and he wanted her again. Still, this woman needed morethan he could give her and he wasn’t going to let her settle for less.
    â€œI know more than you’ve told me.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI read several articles about your wife’s and parents’ deaths on the Internet.”
    He cursed. The words came from deep inside that hidden wall but the rational part of his mind rejoiced that she’d given him a reason to put a barrier between them. His emotional soul quivered and retreated.
    â€œListen here, lady. No one snoops behind my back. If you have a question about my past ask me.”
    â€œYou won’t even tell me what you wanted for Christmas as a child,” she said.
    Knowing she was right but still feeling the way he had when that first Christmas had come and gone and he hadn’t received a mom and dad, he glared at her. Calling upon the icy expression he’d used to keep acquaintances at bay for years, he said at last, “I believe I have the right to privacy.”
    She shrunk back from him, looking pitifully small against the overstuffed cushions on her couch. Bastard, he thought.
    â€œI’m sorry. It was an accidental kind of snooping. I won’t do it again.”
    She stood, setting her snifter on the coffee table. “I think you should leave now. I’d say it’s been nice but, well, you know.”
    It was hard to yell at her while she backed away. He felt like a brute. Her eyes were wide, glitteringwith tears. He crossed to her. She wrapped her arms around her waist. It reminded him so strongly of how he’d faced the world that he knew he’d hurt her. And, inexplicably, that was the last thing he wanted to do.
    He reached for her and she tried to back away but he captured her shoulders in a light grip. She wouldn’t look at him so he put his fingers under her chin.
    â€œI’ve worked hard to put the past behind me. I don’t like to discuss it.”
    â€œBelieve me, I know.”
    He knew what he should say, what he had to say if he wanted her to stay in his life. But he couldn’t. Words—important words—never came easy to him. I’m sorry were two of the hardest. Especially since he felt justified. He didn’t like hurting Cami but didn’t regret what he’d said.
    He offered her an olive branch instead of the words he knew he should say. “When I was a boy the only thing I ever wanted for Christmas was a family. And I never got one.”
    â€œOh, Duke.” Her arms came up around his middle and held him so tightly.
    He pulled her against his body and wrapped himself around her. She was tiny, so it was easy to do. Too damned easy to do. She was the kind of woman who needed a sweet lover, not a roughed-edged warrior who had lost the ability to care a long, long time ago. Not a man who’d forgotten how to smile.
    He hoped she’d understand what he was trying to say without words. There was no way he couldsay anything right now.