Color of Loneliness (31 page)

But she frowns when she realizes it still doesn’t explain why he said the name Sabrina.

“Oh, I just assumed…” she says, trailing off.

Dylan closes his eyes and rubs his hands roughly up and down his face. He sighs as he looks at her. “Look. Sabrina is part of my past. A big part. But it’s really fucking hard for me to talk about it.” He stands, staring at the floor as he runs his hand over the back of his neck.

“I just, I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t. I’m kind of fucked-up that way. But, just know that I’m single and…” He pauses to take in a deep breath, “… I’ll try to talk to you about all the shit that happened at some point, all right?”

She nods. “Okay,” she says quietly.

He clears his throat and stares down at his boots. “I’m sorry I called you Sabrina that night. I honestly don’t remember saying that shit at all. I was with her for a long time so I can kinda see how it happened but, anyway, I’m gonna start on your kitchen. I need my tools…” He grabs his coat and walks out, leaving Myra staring at his retreating figure with a frown on her face.

* * *

Dylan leans against his truck and lights up a much-needed smoke. It hangs out of the corner of his mouth as he straps on his tool belt. He wishes like hell he could’ve opened up to Myra and told her everything, but for some fucking reason, he panicked and couldn’t do it. The words wouldn’t come out. He has so much shit in his past that he can barely deal with it all in his own fucked-up head, let alone let someone else in on it.

Of course, his family and friends back in Boise know what happened. They witnessed that shit firsthand. But at least his family knows to keep their fucking mouths shut and not discuss any of that shit with him. But not everyone can do that. That happens to be one of the reasons why he left Boise; not the main reason, but one of the reasons. He was sick and tired of the looks he got, and how people constantly talked. He likes the fact that he lives in a town where nobody knows his past. No one judges him or looks at him differently.

Looking up at the sky, he grabs his tool bucket and walks back up to the porch. He drops it and leans up against the banister, crossing his feet at the ankles. Once he finishes his cigarette, he flicks the butt into his bucket.

He steps back into the kitchen to find Myra cleaning up the dishes from breakfast.

“I’m gonna start tearing out the cabinets. I’ll start with the one that has the door missing. Where do you want me to put the stuff that’s in it?” he asks gruffly.

“Oh, I’ll clean it out. I can probably put everything in the pantry,” she says as she dries her hands on a towel and steps in front of the cabinet. He starts to move to help her but freezes when he sees her reach up on her tip-toes to grab some bowls off of the top shelf. Swallowing hard, his eyes skim along her beautiful, silky hair, down to the sliver of creamy skin that peeks out where her sweatshirt has snuck up. His gaze trails further down to her beautiful, round ass. Her jeans fit her ass so snug and tight, outlining her curves perfectly. He wants to run his hands over those curves. He feels a stab of guilt for eye-fucking her from behind without her knowledge, but he can’t seem to help that shit.

Shaking his head, he finally snaps out of his lustful stare and wants to kick his own fucking ass for being such a pervert. “Here, let me get those,” he says quickly, his voice a bit husky, as he leans in close to her, reaching above her head and grabbing the bowls off of the shelf.

“Thanks,” she says softly as she looks up at him. He gets pissed at himself when he smiles down at her. Fucking smiles seem to be constantly popping up on his face lately. He can’t control that shit and knows he probably looks like a damn pussy. Or like some ridiculous lovesick school boy, which he knows for damn sure he isn’t.

“Um, I’ll put these away,” she mumbles as she reaches out to take the bowls from him. Their fingers slightly graze each other’s. Her eyes meet his before she ducks her head and turns around. His gaze stays glued to her ass as she scurries into the pantry.

He adjusts himself as things downstairs have gotten really damn uncomfortable. No way does he want to have a hard-as-rock dick trapped in his jeans with a tool belt hanging over it. He needs to get control of himself and stop acting like a goddamn horny teenager.

Myra lets out a scream right before Dylan hears a loud crashing coming from the pantry. His heart almost jumps out of his fucking chest.

Dashing into the tiny closet, he mumbles, “What the hell?” One of the shelves has come crashing down, leaving boxes of food, canned veggies, and various other items scattered across the floor. Grabbing the shelf, he leans it up against the wall.

“Damn it. Are you hurt?” he asks as he moves closer to her, kicking shit out of the way with his boots. He grabs her hand and pulls her to him.

“I’m… fine. It just scared me,” she says in a small, breathy voice with her hand over her heart.

“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit outta me,” he murmurs as he wraps his arms around her. “Did anything hit you?” He looks her body up and down, searching for any signs of injury.

“No, I’m okay,” she says softly, staring up at him.

He has no idea why the fuck he pulled her into his arms. It was like some kind of damn automatic reaction. He knows he shouldn’t be doing that shit. He should let her go now. But he can’t. Instead, he pulls her tighter up against him, loving how she feels, how perfect she fits in his arms.

He stares down into her beautiful face, her wide eyes, and then his gaze drops to her lips. He wants to taste those fucking lips. Feel them against his. Desperately. He has to…

His breathing increases. “I’ve only kissed one woman in my damn life. But I want to kiss you so fucking bad right now,” he says as he drops his head down closer to hers, so that their lips are just inches apart. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers.

Myra braces her hands against him; her chest heaves with her breaths. She nods and whispers, “Yes.”

He moves in until his lips just barely touch hers. They feel just as soft as they fucking look. That simple touch ignites a wave of lust throughout his body. He tightens his arms around her, pulling her closer to his body, molding it to his. Her arms move up, touching the nape of his neck softly. His lips press firmly against hers, moving all the while. His bottom lip still hurts from Derek clocking him, but he could not care less right now.

A contented, throaty moan vibrates deep in his chest. She feels so much better than he ever imagined. Trailing his hand up her back, he threads his fingers through her hair. It feels like strands of silk against his rough, calloused hand. She responds to his every move. Her tongue teases his lower lip.

Holy fuck
, he thinks to himself as he opens his mouth and slides his tongue against hers, tasting her. She tastes like blueberry-flavored coffee. His breathing accelerates. He needs to get closer. Feel more of her. Touch more of her skin, her small, soft body.

He pushes her up against the shelves of the pantry, noisily jostling shit behind them. Something falls, but he ignores it. He tries to grind himself up against her, needing to get some friction on his cock, but he can’t because of his damn tool belt. Sucking her bottom lip into his mouth, he scrapes his teeth lightly over it before his lips leave hers and move down her neck as he inhales heavily. She smells like some kind of fruity shit. He likes it. A lot.

“Fuck,” he breathes against her neck as his tongue licks a trail along her warm skin. She shivers slightly in his arms.

His lips graze back up her neck as he nuzzles his nose behind her ear, kissing the soft skin right behind her earlobe. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so fucking long,” he whispers in a hoarse voice against her ear. When she gasps, a small smile tugs on his lips.

He jerks forward and mumbles, “What the fuck?” as something bangs him on the head. Keeping her tight against him, he turns his head and glares at a large package of paper towels lying on the floor behind him. He looks back down into Myra’s face. “Fucking paper towels…” he growls in a pissed-off voice, his breathing still heavy. Myra’s eyes dance with amusement, and a small giggle slips from her lips. He tries to stay fucking irritated and fights like hell to keep the damn smile back, but he can’t contain it. His smile turns into laughter and loud chuckles slip out of his mouth.

Dylan can’t remember the last time he laughed. Really laughed. He feels lighter somehow. The warm sensation in his chest feels good.

Leaning his head back, he lets the laughter rip freely from his chest. Myra shakes in his arms, laughing along with him. He looks down at her, with a huge, happy grin on his face.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes between more giggles.

The smile on his face fades slowly into a smoldering gaze as he looks at her. Her eyes are wide and twinkling, her lips slightly swollen and red, her cheeks rosy. Slowly, he leans down towards her, positioning his lips just inches from hers. “More?” he whispers. He prays like fucking hell that he can touch her lips again. He notices her eyes are on his lips as she nods. He likes that.

He crushes his mouth to hers, pushing her roughly up against the shelves again.

Myra’s phone rings. At first he ignores it because he can’t leave her lips right now. They feel too damn good. But finally, he reluctantly pulls away from her, dropping his arms to his sides. She mumbles, “Sorry,” as she pulls her phone out of her back pocket. He steps out of the pantry to give her some privacy.

* * *

Myra tucks her phone back in her pocket and covers her face with her hands, trying desperately to get herself under control. Her heart still pounds rapidly in her chest. That was the most incredible kiss she has ever experienced. Things have just dramatically changed between her and Dylan in a very short amount of time.

Her mind spins. She has no idea what to say to him or how to act around him now. Taking in a shaky breath as she steps out of the pantry, she finds Dylan removing the cabinet from the wall, his back to her. She clears her throat. “That was the dealership. My car’s ready. Somebody’s going to drop it off this morning and pick up the rental.”

He turns around and nods. “Good. I’m gonna work on your cabinets. I’ll fix that shelf in your pantry so don’t worry about it.”

She tugs on the sleeves of her sweatshirt. “Okay. I’ll just, I’ll be upstairs if you need anything,” she says.

“Okay.” He nods and gives her a crooked grin before he turns back around.

Myra heads upstairs, her heart beating like a drum. Opening the door to her bedroom, she quickly shuts it, leaning up against it and closing her eyes. Tilting her head back, she chews on her lip, before the corners of her mouth curve up into a happy, uncontrollable smile. She covers her face in her hands and lets out a little squeal. Flopping on her bed, she excitedly whips out her phone and dials Susie.

“Hey. How’s it going?” Susie answers.

“I kissed Dylan,” Myra blurts out giddily in a quiet voice.

Myra giggles and pulls the phone away when she hears loud squawking and screeching sounds coming from Susie. After a few seconds, she puts the phone back up to her ear to hear Susie yelling, “Oh my God, you kissed the scruffy Greek god.” She hears some odd shuffling noises and Susie mutters, “Hang on a sec.”

Myra grins big as she stares up at the ceiling waiting on Susie.

“Okay, sorry about that. I got some nasty ass looks after screaming like a banshee in the office so I ducked into the bathroom. I’m about to shit myself. Tell me what happened before I die of a coronary. What about the pregnant beauty queen girlfriend?” she shouts.

“Well, he showed up here this morning to talk. It ended up she’s not Sabrina, she’s his sister-in-law. Can you believe that?”

Susie gasps. “No way.”

“Yes. He said Sabrina was part of his past but that it was hard for him to talk about it but that he would tell me. The way his face looked when he mentioned her, I’m thinking something really bad must have happened. But anyway, he said he was single and…”

She stops talking when she hears a sound like Susie smacking a wall. “Yeah, baby,” Susie yells. “Sorry, go ahead,” she adds quickly.

Myra giggles. “I was moving stuff from the cabinets into the pantry and one of the shelves fell down. It scared me so I kind of screamed and he rushed in there and…” Myra giggles again. She can’t control her happiness. She feels like she might bubble over with joy.

“God, woman, I’m going to strangle you long distance if you don’t spill your beanie weenies right now,” Susie shouts.

Myra finally gets her giggles under control. “Then he grabbed me and pulled me to him…”

Susie squeals loudly again. Myra also thinks she hears some clapping.

“Then he leaned towards me and told me that he’s only kissed one other woman in his life and then…”

“Hold your shitty horses. There is no way in the damn world that fuckhawt delicious piece of hunkiness has only ever kissed one woman. He’s lying his ass off.”

The smile fades from Myra’s face. “But, I believed him. He seemed sincere. Why would he lie?”

“Myra, you are so naïve. Mr. Shit-faced Asshole wants to march his soldier all up in your private parts without wearing his uniform.”

“Why do you have to be so vulgar?”

“I’m telling you the truth. That man is so incredibly hot that he could have any woman in the damn universe. Women have to throw themselves at him constantly. Just make sure you have him wear a custard catcher, do you hear me?”