Bless the Broken Road that Lead Me Straight to You

Chapter 32

Jay almost made it past the kitchen, his arms still tight around Erin's body, his lips still locked against hers, his tongue still sweeping the insides of her mouth, before Erin pulled away. "Jay, wait," she breathed, "Wait a second."

His breathing was labored and heavy, his pulse beating double time, and he was still struggling to find words. He really didn't want to wait.

"Why?" He tried to make the word come out light and joking, but it came out like a sigh.

"My suitcases," she replied, still breathless, still in his arms. The three suitcases she had brought were outside, behind the door Jay had kicked close.

She hadn't smiled as she said the words, the way he would have expected her to if she planned to stay, to just take a momentary break and continue this in a few minutes.

All of a sudden a horrible thought descended on him. He finally found his words, and they rushed out of him. "Please tell me those suitcases aren't empty." She couldn't be here to collect her clothes, she just couldn't. "Please tell me they're full of clothes. Please tell me you're moving in with me." He tightened his hold on her as he asked the question. If she answered no, if she told him she wasn't here to stay, he wasn't going to put her down until he had her convinced to change her answer.

But there was no need. Erin turned her lips up into a slow smile, "They're full, Halstead." She leaned in and kissed him slowly, a kiss that was more intimate and less rushed. "I was actually planning to ask if I could move in."

He wanted to laugh, as he found himself thinking the same thing he had thought less than two minutes ago when she had been standing outside his door. Was she serious?

"Yes," he whispered against her lips. Yes, yes. A million times yes.

They still had to talk, he still had so much explaining and apologizing to do, and so when he released her and her feet touched the ground, he said, "I'll get your suitcases. Get us a couple of beers and meet me in the living room." It pained him to say living room and not bedroom. Because Jesus Christ he wanted to rip her clothes off. But that could wait.

This conversation couldn't.

Erin walked into the kitchen and retrieved two beers from the refrigerator, appreciating Jay's suggestion. She opened hers right away, taking a long sip. Her heart was racing again, and she needed to alcohol to take effect and calm her body.

She hadn't expected Jay to sweep her up into his arms when he saw her in the doorway. Although, she probably should have, she thought, smiling against her drink. That man never did anything half way.

She opened Jay's beer and walked gingerly to the living room. She had changed since the barbecue, and was now dressed more comfortably in leggings and an oversized dark red sweater. She tucked her legs under her body as she sat and waited for Jay to return.

They had a lot to talk about.

When Jay finally returned to the living room, he looked as nervous as she felt. He seemed to want to say something, but when he sat down, he just took a long sip of beer, mimicking her recent actions. Then he pressed his hand against her knee and gave it a gentle squeeze, all the while holding her gaze.

His soft eyes told her more than any words could. They were so similar in that way. The way that they both appreciated that sometimes words weren't enough.

"Jay," she said, finally. "I'm sorry."

His expression shifted, as one of surprise took over his face. "You're sorry?" He asked, incredulous. "You have nothing to be sorry about."