"Must be some lead," Pete muttered while shutting down his computer.
Terry was already out the door and just tossed a chin lift over his shoulder.
Sandra's house had become his favorite destination besides his own. Hers was a haven of warmth and quiet that contrasted sharply with the controlled chaos of his own home. When she opened the door, still wearing her court attire but with her hair falling loose around her shoulders, a familiar desire swept through him.
"How did the hearing go?" he asked, following her into the kitchen and immediately moving into her space, his hands finding her waist.
"Victory!" She leaned into him with a satisfied smile. "Mr. Henderson gets to keep his disability benefits, and his caseworker gets a formal reprimand for trying to intimidate him."
"That's my brilliant lawyer." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Fighting the good fight."
"I give it my best." She laughed, turning in his arms.
The reminder of their conversation from when she offered assurance that she was staying on the Shore still made Terry's chest tight with relief and something deeper he wasn't quite ready to name. "Good," he said before lowering his head to capture her mouth in a kiss that started gentle and quickly became something more urgent.
Sandra melted against him, her hands fisting in his shirt as she kissed him back with the kind of enthusiasm that made his pulse race. Weeks of careful restraint, of limiting themselves to brief encounters that couldn't go too far, had left them both hungry for more.
Her breath whispered against his mouth. "We should probably?—"
"Talk," he finished, though he made no move to step away from her. "I know. But first..."
Kissing her again, deeper this time, he backed her against the kitchen counter until she was trapped between his body and the cool granite. Sandra's legs parted instinctively, allowing him to step closer, and when her hands slid up to tangle in his hair, he felt his control starting to fray.
"This is dangerous." She moaned, but her actions contradicted her words as she pulled him down for another kiss.
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to stop."
Terry's hands tightened on her waist, desire flooding through him at her honest admission. "Then don't."
They moved to her living room as one, both falling onto her couch with urgency. Terry had been careful to keep their physical relationship from moving too fast, aware that he came with complications most women weren't prepared for. But with Sandra's hands roaming over his chest and her mouth hot against his neck, careful restraint felt increasingly impossible.
"I've been thinking about this," she confessed, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. "About you. Constantly."
He groaned, capturing her mouth again as his hands explored the curves hidden beneath her professional attire. "Sandra, if we're going to slow down, we need to do it now."
"What if I don't want to slow down?"
The question hung between them, loaded with implication. Terry pulled back to study her face, seeing desire and certainty in her eyes.
"Are you sure?" His voice was rougher than he'd intended.
A soft smile graced her lips. "I'm sure about you. About this."
They lost track of the rushed minutes on her couch as hands and mouths explored with increasing desperation. His shirt was unbuttoned, and her fingers danced along his bare torso. She was now naked from the waist up, his mouth and hands covering her breasts.
Suddenly, his phone rang with the harsh reminder that he had other responsibilities. Toby's ringtone cut through the haze of desire like a bucket of cold water. "Shit," Terry muttered as he reluctantly disentangled from Sandra's arms. "I have to take this." Answering, he tried to slow his breathing, “Toby, you okay?”
"Dad? I forgot my cleats for soccer practice after school!"
He closed his eyes, inwardly chuckling at his son’s impeccable timing. "I’ll run home and get them to you. Okay?"
"Thanks, Dad!"
"But Toby…" Terry began, catching Sandra's understanding smile from across the couch. "We need to work on your organization before school."
After disconnecting, he turned to find Sandra back in her bra and already buttoning her blouse, her expression amused rather than offended.
