Page 110 of To Belong Together
His hand found its way to her cheek. They were down to a three-inch gap again. “Erin …”
Hopefully he’d been better at feigning innocence than she was, because her round eyes gave her away, making a pitstop at his mouth.
Desire roared, and resisting felt like trying to push back an accelerating car with his bare hands.
Not a move.He would not make a move until he was certain she wanted him to.
Her gaze lifted to meet his, and she touched his neck, tentative. “Don’t worry. I know you’re only mine on loan.”
His better sense was teetering on the edge of abandon, and she chose now to speak in riddles? “What does that mean?”
“I think you know.”
He’d said something about everyone being on loan from God, and about being able to trust the Lord in that. If she was practicing faith by getting involved with him, why hold back?
Her fingers pressed his neck, pulling him in. Her lashes sank closed, and she lifted onto her toes and closed the three inches.
She kissed him with hunger she hadn’t expressed after the rehearsal dinner, and his reservations gave way. He cupped her face and relished it all—her mouth, the way her jaw moved against his palm, the feel of her inhale cool across his lips in the moment of rest between the end of one kiss and the start of the next.
When he stepped back, he opened his eyes and focused to stop the room from spinning. “It’s time to go.”
Erin’s eyes shone with something other than tears. “Yeah, okay.” Breathless, she patted her pockets then withdrew her keys. “To Mom and Dad’s.”
He hesitated, and she seemed to notice her slip, because a frown weighed the corner of her mouth, then eased up.
Good enough. She’d made it, not succumbed to complete heartbreak again so soon.
He got the door, shadowed her to her mom’s house, and helped unload the boxes into the garage. As they carried the last load in, Erin focused on the doorway between the garage and the house. Her mom stood behind the screen, apparently waiting for Erin to come in.
Supervising, or did she simply have no idea they might want to say good-night without an audience?
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Erin asked.
He slid his shamefully light box—the one with the plastic containers inside—on top of the one Erin had lowered. “I’ll call you.”
“Or drop by.” Erin smiled, eyes sparkling.
He nodded, not one shred of self-control left strong enough to keep him away. Good thing her mom was watching, in fact, or he’d struggle to leave at all.
35
John stood in the foyer of Erin’s church, searching the foam-board displays for pictures that included her. Others who’d come for the visitation moved around him, their more casual interest in the photographs evident in the way they browsed at the speed of a slow stroll.
Across the sanctuary, Erin stood with her mom, Ellen. The two of them had a long line of mourners to greet in the hushed tones appropriate for funerals. He’d rather stand near enough to keep an arm around Erin, but she hadn’t asked him to.
After the kiss, they’d spent time together daily. He’d helped her pack and move more. They’d gone out for a movie. Another night, he’d taken her to dinner at a restaurant with a view of Superior. Last night, some of her out-of-town family had descended on Hartley, and he’d joined them for dinner. Erin had been quiet, so he’d suggested a walk that seemed to revive her for the last hour of socializing before the relatives left for their hotels.
Her sadness did nothing to dissuade him from wanting to spend more and more time with her. He longed to lend comfort, a shoulder to cry on … a kiss to smile about.
But despite what their relationship had grown into, he wasn’t family, and family needed to be her focus here. He wouldn’t intrude.
He leaned closer to a photograph. After seeing so many of Erin’s dad, John recognized the man’s dark hair and round chin and nose. In this snapshot, he wore a blue suit and rested a hand on the shoulder of a girl about the age of Philip’s daughter. Seven?
Her locks hung almost to her elbows, and she wore a satiny purple dress. Despite the years, Erin’s dimpled smile hadn’t changed. She looked proud and happy, clutching her dad’s hand.
“That’s the father-daughter dance I told you about.”
At Erin’s voice beside him, he straightened.
