Her tongue touched his lips and he groaned in surrender, everything he was, all the demons and the meager angels he carried in his soul, sighed in bliss.
This was a moment he’d never allowed himself to dream about. But somehow it was exactly as he’d imagined.
He opened himself up to her, slipping his arm further around her waist, bending her slightly backward so that he carried her sweet weight in his arms.
She moaned and sighed, melting like butter in a pan against him.
There was no end-point to this kiss; it could last for another hundred years. He could pull the strength he needed from her, but he wanted to come to her better than he was at this moment.
He wanted to come to her as a man on his own two feet.
Enough.
Pulling away was awful, like stepping into the cold from a warm house.
“Sandra,” he sighed, kissing her cheeks, her forehead. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, feeling her breathe against him.
“Why…why are you stopping?”
He stepped back, his fingers lingering on her waist, loathe to give up what he felt under her shirt, the firm tension of her muscles, the softness of her skin.
“There’s something I have to do, Sandra,” he told her. “And I could talk to you, but I want to…” He didn’t know how to put it into words, this driving feeling to be better. To deserve what she would give him for no good reason. “I want to give you a reason to be with me. I want to be a man you can be proud of. A man I can be proud of.”
She didn’t lie and say she was proud of him, which he respected. It stung a bit, but he wanted honesty between them.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her lips moist from their kiss.
“You already have.” He bent to get his cane.
“You’re making me nervous,” she said. “You’re not drinking, are you?”
“I’m trying very hard not to,” he told her and leaned forward—delighted that he had the right, relishing that he had her permission—and kissed her again, a quick taste of her lips, the impression burning even after he pulled away.
He found himself smiling into her worried face. At his smile she threw her arms around his neck, surprising the hell out of him.
“You’re a good man,” she whispered. “Please don’t lose sight of that now.”
She stepped away and walked, head held high, back into the kitchen. What a wonder it would be, he thought, to deserve that woman.
He shuffled the other way, into the den with the phone and the computer. After collapsing into the chair he leaned sideways to pull out his wallet and the slip of paper he’d tucked inside.
The paper was soft between his fingers, the time underlined twice at the bottom of the note. According to the clock on the far wall, if he hurried he’d only be a little late. He grabbed the phone and took a deep breath before dialing.
“Hello?” Jack’s voice cut through the silence.
“Jack, it’s…” He realized with a spurt of the ridiculous that Jack might not recognize his voice over the phone. “It’s your dad.”
“So I gathered.” Jack chuckled. “What’s up?”
“Are you busy?”
“No. You okay?”
“I…could use a ride, son.”
There was a pause, long and careful, and Walter decided to answer the question before it was asked.
“There’s an AA meeting at the church tonight.”
“You want to go to that?”
Walter nodded and then realized he’d have to actually say the words.
“I need to, son. I can’t do this alone.”
“They’re out,” Lucy said, staring at Casey and Ben curled up on the couch.
“Shrek 3 has that effect on kids,” Jeremiah said, unable to look up from her foot, where it sat in his lap. He ran his knuckles across the sole and her toes curled.
By the time the Shrek had found Fiona in the first movie, he’d given in to temptation, pulled her legs up into his lap and taken off her boots. Rolled her pink socks down her feet and off her toes.
It had been hot, a delicious tease, and he knew she’d liked that. Liked sitting in the room with this family while Jeremiah undressed the only part of her he could.
He’d made a joke about stinky feet and the boys had laughed, but he’d cupped his palm around her heel as if he were holding gold.
What are you doing, cowboy? he asked himself.
Lucy gave a little stretch. “Not as good as the first two.”
He grinned, but suddenly there was something building in his chest. Something ugly and dangerous.
“I bet you never thought you’d have an opinion on the Shrek franchise.” He said it like it was garbage, totally negating the fun they’d had.
He was spoiling for a fight and she had to know it, but every barb he sent her way, she stroked the sting out of, made it a joke.