Please Release Me by Rhoda Baxter Page B

picked up his jacket, which he’d slung over the back of the chair.
    Her face fell. Even if he’d had a heart of stone, he would have felt her disappointment. As it was, he wanted to change his mind and stay. He told himself to stand firm. ‘I’ve got some work to do before bed. I’m sorry.’
    Grace nodded. She sucked in her lower lip and let it go. Her composure returned and she smiled. ‘Well, thank you for all your help. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’ She followed him out into the hall.
    ‘Thanks for the tea. I enjoyed it.’ He was surprised at how true this was. He paused, one hand on the door handle. ‘I’m sorry I got a bit deep on you at the end. And then fell asleep.’
    ‘Don’t worry about it.’ She touched his arm. He felt the thrill of her touch zing though his body. She looked up, brow furrowed. ‘I know how exhausting it is to be a carer. You take sleep where you can.’
    He couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying. All he could focus on was her lips. Moving. Time seemed to slow down. He raised his eyes to meet hers and saw them widen. The lips stopped moving, slightly parted. The realisation that she wanted him as much as he wanted her almost made him stop breathing. He managed to say ‘I should go.’ It came out in a hoarse gasp.
    She nodded. ‘Yes.’ Her eyes remained on his. ‘I’ll see you around at the hospice, I guess.’
    He appreciated the effort to lighten the mood. ‘I guess so.’
    ‘Thanks again for helping me,’ she leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. The touch of lips on his face was too much. He turned his face as she was drawing away and kissed her back.
    He hadn’t intended to kiss her like that. It was meant to be a peck on the lips. But as soon as his lips touched hers, his mind went blank and his body took over, kissing her fiercely like he’d wanted to do all afternoon. She drew a sharp breath and then kissed him back. She tasted of pesto and lemonade and her smell was deliciously human, not flowery, not musky, but so very real. He wanted her so much he felt his blood fizzing in his veins. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tight against him. He wanted her with every cell in his body. Her hands in his hair sent thrills though him. When she finally drew away from him, he didn’t want to let her go.
    They stared at each other, both breathing hard. His hands were still on her hips. Hers rested on his chest. Her eyes were wide as though she were surprised with herself. The moment hung between them, a line beyond which there was no turning back. All Peter could feel was the pounding of need in him. She never broke eye contact with him. Slowly, she drew her fingers into a fist. He felt the path of each fingertip scorching him through his T-shirt and there was no more doubt. They were kissing again. Hungry and needing each other. He walked her backwards and pressed her against the wall.
    They ended up on the sofa. He kneeled over her and stroked the side of her face. When he pulled the band out of her hair, she ran her fingers through it, so that it lay long and loose over her shoulder. He stopped for a minute, stunned by how beautiful she was. He wanted her so much. Her hair slipped, thick and silky, through his fingers. So dark, so heavy. Completely unlike Sally’s whispy blonde.
    ‘Sally.’ The thought of Sally froze him. Dear god, what was he
doing
?
    He looked up at Grace and saw the shock on her face too. She wriggled out from between his knees and drew her knees up, as though trying to hide from him.
    ‘I should go.’ He pulled his T-shirt straight and looked around for his glasses.
    She handed them to him, as though she’d read his mind. When he saw her face, his heart cracked. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’
    She looked away, hugging her knees closer. ‘Me too.’
    He grabbed his keys and fled. There was no goodbye. No empty promises to call her. Nothing. Just the memory of her lips on his. And