Made in Manhattan

“Go for it,” he said a bit gruffly.

Violet reached out again, taking both ends of the tie and beginning the process of turning it into a tidy knot.

“You’re smiling,” he said quietly.

Her gaze flicked up. He was very close. And taking no pains to disguise the fact that he was studying her.

She dropped her gaze back to what her hands were doing. “I was just remembering I used to do this for my dad. He didn’t need me to, of course, but I loved being a part of his and my mom’s fancy nights out. I can’t believe I still remember how, honestly. It’s been years.”

Violet tightened the knot, which she was pleased to note was perfect, then moved her hands back, making sure the tie was tucked neatly beneath his collar.

Her fingers found the knot at the back of his head, his hair in its usual messy, pulled-back style. Her breath caught, and her fingers lingered, itching with the strangest urge to pull out the band. She’d seen it down around his shoulders only once, but she wanted to again. Wanted even more to explore what it would feel like between her fingers, to find out what he would do if—

Suddenly, his hand was behind her head, his fingers tangling in her hair and tugging backward until her face tilted up to his. The motions were surprisingly gentle, but his voice was harsh. “You can’t decide, can you?”

Violet swallowed awkwardly. “What do you mean?”

“Who you want me to be. The perfect, boring creation of your own making, your very own homemade arm candy to show off to your friends. Or the guy from the wrong side of the tracks to scratch that bad boy itch between your legs.”

Her lips parted, though she didn’t know if it was in surprise, anger, or desire. Perhaps a combination of the three.

His fingers tugged a little more firmly in her hair, and desire abruptly took the lead, followed by a wave of yet another emotion.

Guilt.

“Let me spell it out for you, Duchess,” Cain said before roughly pulling her all the way to him and crushing his mouth over hers.

His kiss was carnal. Firm lips deftly coaxed hers open. His tongue slid against hers without apology. The fingers in her hair tightened, even as his free hand roamed at will, molding her hips, her butt, then gliding over her waist until the heel of his hand pressed against the side of her breast, pausing…

Lost in a desire so unfamiliar, so all-consuming that she couldn’t see straight, Violet made a moaning sound of want and arched against him without thinking. More!

Cain pushed her back as abruptly as he’d pulled her forward.

“Any questions?”

“Wh-what was that for?” she asked, confused and more than a little unsteady on her feet.

“To show you I’m not your guy, not in any capacity. I never will be. Now get the hell out of my house.”

Fourteen

Oh my God,” Ashley said, in awe after Violet had finished recounting the incident. “You got the grab-and-kiss.”

“The what?” Violet asked tiredly as she poured them each a cup of Earl Grey tea. Not her most original Sunday tea moment, but she’d more or less been operating on autopilot since Cain had turned her world upside down with his kiss, only to cruelly reject her seconds later. To say that she hadn’t gotten much sleep was an understatement.

“You’re obviously not reading the romance novels I keep insisting you try. You know, it’s when…” Ashley didn’t leave her usual spot on the love seat, but mimed grabbing Violet’s shoulders and jerking her forward. “Where a guy just claims you.”

Ashley gave a little shiver of delight at her own description and fanned herself. “There is nothing hotter.”

She paused her fanning to accept the teacup and gave Violet a careful look. “Unless it wasn’t hot…”

Violet stirred her tea and said nothing.

“Vi?” Ashley was concerned now. “Was it violating? Did he—”

“No,” Violet said quickly. “No, it was…” Violet relented and sighed. “It was hot.”

“Damn,” Ashley muttered, petting Coco, then picking up one of the Ladurée macarons she’d brought over. “And then he had to ruin it by talking. Why do guys always go and do that?”

“It’s just as well that he did,” Violet said, running a hand over Coco’s back as the little dog hopped up into her lap.

“Because of Keith?” Ashley asked.

Violet groaned and slumped slightly in her chair, careful not to dislodge Coco. “Keith. What am I going to do?”

But she already knew. She could not, in good conscience, feel the way she had when Cain Stone kissed her and maintain her relationship with Keith. And it wasn’t just about her conscience. Even before Cain had kissed her, Violet had felt herself waking up to the sense of wanting more. More from her life, and more from the man in her life.