Dawn Redeemed

"Hi, Erica."

Erica looked up, started by the masculine voice that sent her heart pounding. She'd been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't heard Torr pull up. His shadow spilled across her lap and onto the sidewalk beneath her feet. She blushed madly as she squinted against the orange evening sun. "Hi, I didn't hear you pull up," she stammered stupidly. Her fingers smoothed her hair, like they did every time she was nervous.

"I walked," Torr answered with a shrug. He loved to watch the way she reacted to him. The red flush of her skin and the way her fingers nervously fiddled with her hair caused his lips to curve in a coy smile. He still did it for her. She could deny it and probably would, but he knew. He'd have to be dead not to notice the flare of her sweet cinnamon scent in the air whenever he came near her. "I only live a couple of blocks from here and its such a beautiful evening, I thought you might want to walk instead of riding in my truck."

"We're going to your place?" Erica asked. The skin on her cheeks heated to supernova hot at the thought of being alone with him at his house.

Torr had a moment of panic when he thought that she meant to refuse his invitation. Quickly, he explained his motives, "There isn't anyplace in this town that serves a decent steak."

"Oh," Erica sighed in relief. He wasn't setting her up. How stupid was she to think that he was? He wasn't making a ploy to get her alone and into the sack again. She had to stop thinking things like that about him. Ten years ago he might have been a player. But, that didn't mean he was now. People change. "Sounds good," she searched for something to say to smooth things over before he got totally offended and she ended up eating a cheeseburger at Happy's alone. "I didn't realize you cooked."

Torr chuckled, "I'm a guy. I don't cook. I grill out." He held out his hand to Erica. Grinning when she accepted and allowed him to pull her onto her feet. Hesitantly, he let go. Her hand was so tiny in his. The skin so soft and sleek.

Erica slid her hand out of his. Torr's grip was strong, not so tight that it hurt, but strong and certain. She slung her purse over her left shoulder so that it created an obstacle between the two of them. They could be walking like lovers holding hands. She had the distinct impression, no matter how much he'd changed, that he wouldn't protest the gesture. She was damned tempted to give in to the thought. Instead she grabbed the strap of her purse tighter with her fingers. "Lead the way."

Torr nodded and with a light brush of his fingers against the small of her back guided her down the sidewalk adjacent to the café. Leading her into the surrounding quiet rows of houses with their shade lined sidewalks and neat laws. The joyous sounds of kids playing and the distant sounds of dogs barking at nothing filled the awkward silence between them. He wasn't good at casual talk. His whole life, he'd been brought up to keep quiet unless he had something of value to say. He did, he had plenty to say, but nothing casual.

Erica tried to relax and take in the scene of normalcy around her. The houses were neat and tidy, orderly with their short trimmed green lawns and concrete ornaments. Kids darted about playing in back yards. The smell of food cooking, the smoky scent of hamburgers and steaks charring on the grill made her mouth water and her stomach grumble in complaint of its neglect. She felt a twinge of guilt that she couldn't or hadn't been able to provide this kind of life for Fallon, yet. Maybe once she found a job and had a stable income, she could.

"Ah, here we are," Torr said, rounding the corner. "You'll have to excuse the mess. I just moved in a couple of days ago and I've been busy making renovations." He led Erica up the narrow concrete walkway to the house. The house looked just like every other one in the neighborhood. A tiny box sided with white siding and typical, ordinary green shutters on the windows. Nothing nefarious about it.

Erica smiled at Torr's moment of boyish insecurity. He always seemed so self-assured and confident. His gait and body stance hinted at exactly how much importance he hung on her opinion of the house. As if his whole world hung solely on her approval. He held a small ring of jingling keys in his right hand. His shoulders slumped slightly below his usual perfect posture. A wary smile stretched across his lips as he reached out and unlocked the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and gave her a worried stare.

"Torr, are you going to let me in?" Erica peeked through the crack in the door. She caught the glance of the living room and the dining room beyond. The place smelled new. The chemical smell tickled her nose. The paint looked so fresh that Erica wondered if it was dry yet. The smile she returned, she hoped, reflected reassurance. And she'd thought she was nervous?

"I...," Torr took a deep breath and gathered his composure. He wanted her to like his house, but more than that, he wanted her to like him. Camping out on the front porch and gawking at each other was not going to accomplish his desire. "Sure," he said. He held the front door open wide for her. Her skirt brushed across the front of his thighs as she walked past him into the house.

Erica gasped at her faux pas and clumsily knelt to remove her sandals before she tracked dirt on to his brand new sand colored carpet. "I'm sorry," she gripped the straps of her sandals between her fingers. Her feet sank into the soft, deep pile as she padded her way in farther. The couch and matching loveseat were so new they still had the tags on them. The living room was decorated in contrasting neutrals of muted brown, tasteful, but bland and in need of a splash of color here and there. Maybe some throw rugs so guests wouldn't have to worry about tracking dirt would be nice too.

Torr didn't know what he was supposed to do. He hadn't given a thought to wearing his shoes in the house and he didn't know if he was supposed to follow suit and take his off as well. He'd heard of taking a woman's coat and hanging it up, but what did he do with her shoes? He did the only thing he could, he asked. "Do you want me to take those and put them in the coat closet?"

"Ah..." Erica hadn't thought about what she was supposed to do with her shoes. "I don't know?" She'd need them if they were dining outside. Torr awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was impeccably dressed, casual, but damned sexy in a soft cotton button down short sleeved shit the color of a caramel apple. The shirt clung to his wide chest and nicely developed biceps. His jeans fit him like they were made for him, snug where they needed to be and just loose enough where they didn't. The dark denim, the shade where navy faded to become almost royal blue, looked soft enough to pet. His shoes were made of some brand of expensive leather, a little worn and scuffed as if they might be his favorite pair. They looked well broken in and comfortable. The hem line of his pants was just short enough for her to see that he wasn't wearing socks.

Torr looked approachable and comfortable. Or at least he would have if they both weren't drowning in the awkwardness of the moment. Erica bit her bottom lip and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear with her free hand, unsure of what to say. "Your house looks great. I love the colors you've picked." Inwardly she cringed at the lameness of the words. Obviously, he'd spent a bundle and here she stood, without so much as her own bed, unintentionally downplaying all his efforts.

"Thanks." Torr smiled and slid out of his shoes. Anything to make the moment less uncomfortable for the both of them. He gathered up his shoes and slid the sandals out of her fingers, giving them a gentle toss into the bottom of the empty coat closet. He stood looking at their bare feet, so seemingly casual against the stiffness of the new carpet. "Can we have a do over?"

Erica looked up at his eyes. She wanted to trace the faint etching of laugh lines in their corners with a fingertip. The lines gave his blue eyes, the color of the sky just before dark, sparkle and interest. He was very much a man, but he looked almost boyish, sheepishly grinning as he asked for a do over. Sleek black curls wound over the tops of his ears and into waves of dark satin across the back of his neck. She knew they'd be soft as silk against her fingers. His lips though, so full and ripe with a promise she'd only begun to sample seven years ago, would be softer. She broke his gaze and padded across the tile floor, running a hand across the gleaming cherry wood surface of the dining room table. "Everything is so new. I'm almost afraid to touch anything. I might accidentally tear something up."

Torr lowered his hand and gently pressed it over the top of hers. Their fingertips left a lingering trail across the cool, sleek surface of the cherry wood table top. "What good is a house full of stuff if you're too afraid to use it. Houses are just houses unless you live in them. People living and enjoying are what make a house a home. A few stains and a couple of scratches and dings are like wrinkles on a face. Wrinkles don't detract from a person's beauty. They just add character."

Torr's arm rested against her arm. Together, they were making a streaky mess out of his brand new table top. His body molded to hers, he stood almost too close, against her. "I've never had a house before," Erica whispered. "I've only lived in apartments, even as a kid, mom and I never had a place of our own."

"But, you've had plenty of homes. I've had houses, many of them. Places grander and more expensive than this one will ever be. Houses filled with antiques and the best furnishings money could buy. Yet, I've never had a home before." Torr lightly wrapped his fingers around Erica's and gave them a gentle squeeze. Slowly, carefully, he drew her against him so they were standing with her shoulder cradled into his chest.

Erica's breath hitched in her throat. His breath was hot on the curve of her neck. His hands gentle on hers. His closeness was like a drug to her and she was like an addict fallen off the wagon after long years of abstinence. "Torr, what are we doing here?"

"Having dinner and talking." His fingers grazed across the nape of her neck. He gathered her hair up in his palm and slid it free of her shoulder. Slowly, always with Erica he had to take it painfully slow, he dropped his face to the curve of her collarbone and pressed a gentle kiss to that sensitive, fragile expanse of exposed skin. God, she tasted good and the hot cinnamon smell of her was enough to make him abandon every good intention he had. He hadn't lured her over to his house for sex. Her posture was rigid and stiff against him, resisting the urge. She thought he had some nefarious purpose in mind. She still thought of him as a player. When they first met, he had been. Since that time, their night together, he'd changed, been forced to by time and circumstance. How was he ever going to get her to believe that if every time they were together he let her effect him the way she did? He stepped back and let her out of his arms. "I'm sorry. I overstepped my bounds."

Erica wrapped her arms tightly across her chest, suddenly chilled by the absence of his raw heat. "I didn't try to stop you." Her skin burned where his lips had made the light contact. Even the hot blush that spilled from cheek to cheek and down her neck was damned cold in contrast to him. Determined to not have this turn into a sex fest, she kept her feet planted in place instead of running back into his arms for seconds.

Torr was past the point of playing it cool. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets to keep from reaching out to Erica. One more touch would be like tossing a starving man a crumb of bread. One more touch would increase his hunger and he'd want more. More than he had a right to or could ever dream of asking. "I guess we had to get that out of the way first."

"What?"

"The way I feel about you. The way we feel about each other. Erica, I never forgot. I know it was only one night. But, that was the best night of my life. The best."

"Why did we stop at just one night? We didn't have to. We could have...I left. You were asleep and rather than thinking beyond, I ran." Erica dropped her arms and turned her head, asking, finally asking the question that had burned in her mind, like his kiss, for so many years.

"Sometimes, we aren't given a choice in life. I wasn't given a choice then. You left and I didn't follow you. I let you go." Torr dragged his hands through his hair in frustration. There was no way he could tell her the truth about his father. The truth would frighten her and scare her. God knew it had been more than enough to scare him and keep him away from her all these years.

"And now?"

"All my choices are in your hands."

"I can't make any decisions for you, Torr." Erica took a step back and looked at the burning man standing in front of her. His expression was a mix of agony, desire, and raw need. So many things that he wanted reflected on his face. So much hinged on her. He was right, if they moved forward, it was her decision. She governed if he got to see his daughter and how often. What kind of a relationship he had with Fallon and with her, were all hers to decide. She didn't want that kind of a burden on her shoulders. "Torr, I would never keep you from Fallon. Never."

"Would you keep me from you?" Torr saw her realization of his words spread across her face. She hadn't understood until now exactly how much she affected his world. He pinned her with his eyes, seeking out the truth with his stare.

Erica squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. "I don't know. Everything is happening so fast. I...I don't want to get swept up in the moment and make another mistake." Her insides were jittery and wobbly as jell-o. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. The air was thick and hard to breathe through the tears that choked her throat. She didn't want to hurt like she had the days and months following that spring break. She'd realized too late she'd made a terrible mistake. Sometimes, late at night when the house was quiet and Fallon was asleep, she still hurt, the pain of loneliness was every bit as raw as when it was brand new.

"That night was not a mistake. You don't really believe that do you? That what we had, as short as it was, was a mistake?" Torr's voice was hoarse and raw with emotion. Did she see him and the life they had created as a huge accident? He never doubted how much Erica loved Fallon.

"I don't mean what I said the way it sounded." Erica's voice was small and breathy. "Fallon was not a mistake. She's the best thing that ever happened to me. What I meant to say was that I... I can't run again. I don't want to have just a night and then have nothing but regret over the mistake I made in leaving. I don't want to believe that love is possible only to learn that it's not."

Torr crossed the small distance between them with his arms and rested his hands on her shoulders. She wouldn't meet his eyes when she spoke. He had to see her eyes. Had to see the truth reflected in them. He turned her to face him. "I would have been there for you if I could have. Believe that if you believe nothing else."

"I do." Erica let out a long breath and tilted her head back to meet his eyes. "That one night that was supposed to mean nothing, changed everything. Torr, I don't want you to get hurt again."

"Promise me this much. The next time, if there is a next time. I won't wake up alone the next morning." His fingers tightened on her shoulders and guided her in closer, as close as she would allow. Still safe enough to be considered chaste, but close enough for the heat to radiate between them. He came in slowly, lowering his mouth to hers in for a kiss. The kiss he'd been dreaming about for years. Not the kiss of lost love or passion rekindled from the ashes, but of a new kiss filled with the wonder of first love.

Erica committed herself to the kiss. She was tired of dreaming the same dreams over and over again. They were different people, with years of experience, heartbreak, joys, and triumphs between them. But one thing would never change. The kiss was everything she remembered and more than she could have hoped to feel again. It felt new and exciting. His lips were moist and warm, like rainstorm on a hot summer night, nourishing with the promise of life. She let go and reveled in the moment, letting his tongue explore every dark corner of her mouth.

He tasted of something dark and exotic, more decadent and intoxicating than the most expensive liquor she'd ever had on the tip of her tongue. He worked her mouth like a potter working with a fresh mound of clay, forming and shaping her until she molded against him. Making her just for him. The kiss was so intense that every breath and sensation were filled with him and only him. Nothing mattered but the stolen moment. Not the past, not the future only right here and now were all that existed.

Torr drank of Erica, sating a thirst that had left him parched for years. He eased her arms up around his neck, drawing her body into a straight line against him. Straining to press them together as tightly as he could. She was all warmth and sunshine, everything good. The taste of her mouth and the feel of her eager lips, matching every stroke and thrust of his tongue was like the promise of heaven to a condemned soul. Perhaps, he was such a soul and the truth he'd eventually have to share with her was his executioner.

She wouldn't love him. How could she? Not once she knew what he was and the curse he'd brought down on their daughter. For now, this kiss was everything he had. The moment was everything he knew he'd eventually lose. For now, he could chase away the eventual pain and the doubt and enjoy, relax and enjoy the woman in his arms. All too soon, his embrace would be empty once again.

Erica felt Torr's arms tighten around her waist. She felt strange to be suspended in his arms, crushed against his body as he lifted her off her feet. She didn't know whether to feel flattered by the ease in which he lifted her or embarrassed by the fact that she clung to him as tightly as she did. The kiss ended with their noses touching, pressed against one another, playfully rubbing back and forth. Their lips hovered mere inches apart. If she tilted her chin just right, she could sneak another sampling from his mouth. His breath was a wash of heat across her cheeks as he inhaled her exhales and she inhaled his.

Her feet hung off the carpet, dangling, but she didn't feel helplessly trapped. She felt as if she were in complete control. If she demanded, he'd put her down. If she stole a kiss, he'd let her take it. She was safe in his arms. He was the one that had laid it all out there for her. He dangled, not by his feet, but off the end of her little finger, helplessly spinning out of control by a thread. With a word, she could crush his hopes and belittle the moment to nothing. She didn't want to do that to him. She'd come here to ask questions and to get answers. And she had. Maybe not the in the way she'd thought. She couldn't begin to understand some of his cryptic and mysterious responses, but she had the answer to the question that had invaded her mind for so very long. He still wanted her. He had come no closer to forgetting her than she had him.

"I missed you," Torr said, nuzzling her ear. "Everyday, I missed you more and more." Whatever unfinished business they had left between them could wait a while longer. He just wanted to hold her for as long as he could. Gently, he lowered her down to her feet. His hands walked down the backs of her bare arms as he straightened his long body. Their hands touched and he held on to the ends of her fingers. Like a character out of some old movie, he brought her knuckles to his lips and laid a soft kiss across their tops. Extracting a nervous shuffle and a light giggle in reaction. He returned the smile and her hand.