“Rafe,” Daphne murmurs, clearly guilty as she reaches out and cups his cheek in her palm. “I’m sorry, I just –“
“No, Daphne,” Rafe replies, laying back against the pillow and closing his eyes, moving his arms so that his hands press lightly against her back. “Don’t be sorry – don’t ever be sorry for something like that. If you want to slow down then we’ll go slow.”
Daphne smiles a little, accepting the invitation his hands give to lay herself down over his broad chest, to tuck her head beneath his chin.
And as she does, Daphne feels incredibly guilty.
Because here is this perfectly wonderful prince, who she’s had a crush on for literally years, who so clearly wants to be with her…
And all she can do is think about…
Well.
The less thought on what’s actually on her mind, the better
