Page 107 of Absolution

Kerry throws out her hands. “You do the pasta. Can I do anything?”

I smack her butt. “Make us a salad, woman.”

She gives out a little squeal and jumps, her cheeks turning red. Her pulse thuds visibly on the sides of her throat and tension crackles between us, syrupy, heady. Kerry spins on her heels, mumbles something I can’t hear and then literally flees out into the living room. I’m left breathless, and with a cock that hardened in a second. Clearing my throat, I get to work, rummaging around her kitchen until I have everything neatly arranged before me, losing myself in the art of cooking, making good use of the herbs.

Kerry comes back after a while, her eyes a little glossy, as if she has been crying, on her arm Cece whom she sets down at the kitchen table.

“Wanna do the salad, hon?”

Kerry throws me a shy gaze, then she busies herself with our daughter and their task. I grin. One day she’ll be ready, and that day isn’t that far away anymore.

Dinner is light and friendly, and we chat about mundane things. Kerry can talk about her work at the daycare for hours. I like listening to her. I don’t have a lot to say myself, but I do tell her about how Manhattan has transformed for Christmas, and that I suspect there might be another baby on the way in the Russo-Lewis household even though they haven’t confirmed it.

Cecilia eats with her whole body, and in a three feet radius. After I wash her face and hands and Kerry finds her some new clothes, the three of us watch Cinderella. Our daughter sits between us, blissfully unaware of her mother’s flushed cheeks, and her father’s pounding heart.

When there’s nothing more to be said or done, movie is over, plates are in the dishwasher, and the table is wiped, I put Cece to bed, she is asleep the moment her head hits the pillow. When I come back down, Kerry has folded the throw blankets, and restored Cecilia’s play corner. Standing by the large windows, she clutches a cup of tea. When I walk up to her, she flinches slightly, making me take a step back.

“She’s sleeping.”

Kerry swallows audibly. “Okay, good.”

She makes no move to close the distance between us.

“I should go.” I don’t want to go.

“Okay.”

I can’t read her.

“Thanks for dinner.”

Kerry gives out a little laugh. “It was you who made it.”

“Joint effort.”

“That’s… very generous of you.”

I grin and shove a hand through my hair as I let my gaze wander from her eyes to her mouth, to her soft perfect handful of breasts, to her jeans-clad hips. Then I back yet another step. “Okay. See you.” A shudder runs through me as I turn toward the door. I don’t know how much longer I can hold back. But I want more than sex. I want her whole being. I want her to want to be with me. I’m used to taking what I want, but that’s not going to work with Kerry. She needs to come to me, or this will never happen.

As I pull open the door, I hear her quick steps behind me. “Christian!”

I turn. “Yeah?”

“Happy belated birthday.”

Leaning in, I give her a quick kiss on the cheek. Her sweet strawberry scent nearly does me in. “Thanks.”

I leave while I’m still in control of my urges.

The whole way home, I curse. I feel the ghost of her shape in my arms, her scent lingers. My steps echo in my abandoned house as I walk straight into the kitchen and pour a whiskey. There’s nothing here for me. Everything I need exists in a little townhouse forty minutes away, downtown. I down the smoky liquid, lift the bottle to pour a second glass when I set both bottle and glass down on the counter with a sharp slam and spin on my heels.

Fuck it.

I can’t stay away.

Pounding my fist against her front door, I wait, listen. I raise my arm to pound again when I hear quick, light steps.

The door opens a sliver and a fresh-faced makeup free, pajama-clad Kerry peeks out. “Chr—”

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