He’s holding back. I’m sure of it. But why? It doesn’t even occur to me that he might be just as scared as I am, just as unsure, but just as in love. Love. That’s come up a lot lately, hasn’t it? “You’d actually marry me? The weird, dorky poor girl with a maid for a mom and a teacher for a dad?” “You know my secret,” he says, his face taking on just a hint of sadness. “My biological mother was a maid, too. We’re no different, you and me.” Church’s long fingers tease the waistband of my panties, causing me to suck in a sharp breath. He’s avoided touching me for so long, and now I can see why.
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