Color of Loneliness (38 page)

* * *

“Do you want dessert?” Myra asks after they finish eating.

He shakes his head. “Maybe later?”

She smiles and nods. “Do you want to go into the living room? Want some coffee?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

They make their way into the living room with their coffee. Myra sits at the end of the sofa, giving Dylan a lot of space to sit. He plops down right beside her, his thigh touching hers. Her breathing hitches.

“Thanks for dinner,” he says. “That was probably the best damn meal I’ve ever had.”

She smiles, looking up at him. He smiles back at her. Their eyes lock; she can’t seem to look away. His smile fades as his eyes grow darker, become more intense. He stares at her lips. “I really want to kiss you again.”

She swallows hard. “You do?” she asks as her heart starts picking up its pace.

He nods, licking his lips and staring intently at hers. He looks like he wants to devour her.

“I’m trying to be a gentleman and not fucking attack you. My damn lips constantly want to touch you. Especially when you look so… so….” He doesn’t need to say a word. His eyes clearly convey what his mouth can’t.

“Kiss me,” she whispers. Groaning, his fingers graze along her cheekbone until he entwines them into her hair and pulls her to him, touching his lips softly to hers. He presses a bit harder and pulls her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it gently. When her lip pops out of his mouth, she mutters, “Oh my God,” in a breathy voice.

He pulls back slightly, frowning. “What?”

“I can’t believe how good your lips feel without your scruff,” she says. Bringing both hands up to his face, she rubs her fingers tenderly over the soft skin of his jaw before she slowly outlines his lips with a fingertip.

He shivers. “I shaved. For you.”

“You did?”

He nods. “I didn’t want to hurt you. Your skin’s so beautiful,” he says as his fingers graze against her chin and mouth.

“Come here,” he says in a husky voice, bringing her closer. His soft, smooth lips start tenderly kissing hers. His mouth opens and his kiss gets more frantic as he moves more roughly against her. He groans, his mouth leaving hers as he grabs her and pulls her into his lap; her legs straddling him. She can feel all of him underneath her, between her legs. Reaching up, he gently cradles her face, bringing it down to his. He groans again as his hands move down to her ass, pushing her center down against his hardness. He grinds himself up against her, pushing down on her ass to get friction.

She closes her eyes and leans her head back as his lips move down her neck, kissing and sucking. A loud moan slips from her lips when he rubs against her right where she wants it. She winds her hands in his hair and breathes him in. He smells of smoke and spicy soap.

“You smell so fucking good,” he whispers against her neck. She smiles because she was just thinking the same thing. She can feel his hot, wet tongue leaving a trail down her neck. “Fruity or some shit,” he mumbles against her skin before she feels his teeth gently biting her, and sucking. She moans again, louder this time.

“Sorry,” he whispers as he softly kisses the spot he bit. “I can’t fucking help it.” His hands move up to her face, bringing hers down to his again, his soft lips attacking hers.

“I need to stop,” he says, panting against her mouth. “Make me stop.”

“Don’t stop,” she says quickly against his lips.

“Fuck,” he moans as she grinds down against him.

His lips move from her lips to her ear. “I want you so badly, Myra. So fucking badly,” he whispers before he bites her earlobe, causing her to shiver.

Another loud moan slips from her lips. “Please?” she whispers.

“Shit,” he groans before his lips are on hers again. Desperate and needy. He grinds his hardness up into her several more times before he stops, resting his forehead against hers. He shuts his eyes tight, as he pants heavy breaths across her face.

“We, we have to stop,” he stutters.

“Why?”

He pulls back and looks into her eyes. “Because I’m afraid if we go further, we’re gonna regret it.”

Frowning, she slips off of his lap and sits beside him on the couch. They both sit quietly, trying to catch their breath and calm down.

* * *

Dylan can see the hurt look on Myra’s face. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says quickly. “I think I’ve made it pretty fucking clear how goddamn attracted I am to you. I swear to God, one more second, and I would’ve had your clothes stripped off of your body.”

Her mouth gapes open for a moment before she closes it and nods.

“I’ve just, I have things I need to talk to you about first. And I’m just not there yet.” He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get to the point where he can talk about it, but he’ll try like hell to for her.

“I know your past haunts you. I can see it in your eyes.” She lifts a hand and brushes her fingers against his temple. “Just know, whatever it is, I won’t judge you. It won’t change how I…” She pauses and looks down. “How I feel about you.”

Dylan can barely breathe because his fucking heart pounds so hard. He clears his throat and repositions himself on the couch. “I have problems talking. It’s damn hard for me. I want to tell you everything, but I have to take care of something first. When I go to Boise tomorrow.”

He grabs her hand and holds it in his. “When I get back, I’ll try to talk, okay? I’ll try.”

Myra squeezes his hand. “You tell me when you’re ready. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” he whispers before leaning in and gently kissing her lips.

“When are you coming back?” she asks.

“Not sure. I’ll probably be there three or four days.”

He sees Myra’s shoulders slump slightly.

“Can I call you? While I’m there?”

She sits up straighter and smiles. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Good,” he says, giving her a smile. He clears his throat. “Well, it’s getting late,” he says. “I better go.”

He stands and looks down at her. “Thanks for everything. I had an incredible time. With you.” He leans down and kisses her mouth tenderly.

“Me too,” she whispers to him.

After retrieving his coat, he slips it on and softly rubs her cheek, staring into her eyes for a long moment.

Once he gets in his truck, he looks up to see Myra standing in the doorway, watching him. He misses her already, and he hasn’t even gotten out of her goddamn driveway. Something stirs inside of him. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time. And it scares the motherfucking shit out of him.

CHAPTER 19

ASH, CLOSURE

Staring out the window of his truck on the way to his parents’ home in Boise, Dylan can’t quit thinking about a certain beautiful brunette. He remembers the feel of her soft, silky skin under his rough hands as he wrapped her tiny body in his arms. He wants to touch her again; rub his hands over her curves.

He pictures her kissable, perfect lips in his mind and groans audibly, rubbing his hand down his face. He seems to have developed some kind of damn obsession with those lips of hers. He remembers how sweet they tasted and how fucking good they felt against his. He also remembers the way she smelled and the way her eyes lit up when she giggled.

He just fucking misses her. Everything about her. And he just saw her last night. He frowns, shaking his head at himself.

His thoughts shift as he turns onto the street of his childhood home. Pulling into the driveway, he gets an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Not because of his parents or his childhood. He has the best goddamn parents in the world and his childhood was ideal. But the adult memories at this house – the most recent ones that hurt like hell – genuinely terrify him.

He switches off the ignition and leans his forehead against the steering wheel as a painful flashback to one of the happiest times in his adult life washes over him. He gasps as he feels a sharp pain in his chest. Gripping the steering wheel white-knuckled, his heart races, and his breathing becomes ragged. He takes in slow, choppy breaths, hoping like fuck that he can calm down.

“You can do this, damn it,” he mutters to himself, trying to gather enough courage to get out of the truck. He wishes like hell he was stronger and wasn’t so weak; he wishes he was numb so couldn’t feel so much.

The pain in his chest eases and his breathing slows. After a few more minutes, he finally climbs out of his truck. He grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder, but pauses for a moment and stares at his dad’s work truck; in particular, his gaze rests on the words
Lawson & Sons Contracting
emblazoned on the side in bold, white letters. The back of his fingers lightly touch the word
“Sons”
for just a second before he frowns and shoves his hands roughly into his coat pockets and walks up to the door.

“Dylan.” His mother, Sherri, greets him at the door with a bright smile. Dylan notices the fine lines underneath her beautiful eyes, wondering how many he caused. The last few years, she’d worried about his problems more than anyone.

Sherri grabs him in a tight hug and kisses his cheek softly. Pulling back, she keeps his face close to hers as she inspects him carefully.

“You shaved,” she says happily as she rubs his cheek and jaw with a tender touch before her hand moves up to his cheekbone. “What happened?”

“Just a little fall when I was working. No big deal.” Dylan doesn’t want her to worry; the scratches and bruising on his face from the fall through the roof and the fight with Derek have nearly healed.

“Still, you’re just so handsome,” Sherri says. “I don’t understand how I was blessed with such beautiful children.”

Dylan smiles down at her. “It’s because we look just like you,” he whispers. Sherri smiles broadly up at him, a look of parental pride on her face, the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes crinkling. She blinks several times as if to keep back tears.

Dylan clears his throat, trying to shrug off the tender moment. “But, mom? I wouldn’t call Chad beautiful.”

“I heard that, fucker,” a loud voice bellows from inside the house, causing Dylan to chuckle.

“Chad! Watch your language,” Sherri shouts, not bothering to turn around as she keeps her eyes on Dylan and a happy smile on her face.

Chad steps up behind Sherri, smiling mischievously at Dylan. “Ma, you know I never get to cuss around Nat. Cut me some slack. I’m a guy. Testosterone produces foul language. That shit’s been proven. And I’m loaded with fucking testosterone.” He lifts both of his arms and flexes his massive muscles while letting out some grunts. He then proceeds to kiss each of his biceps affectionately.

Sherri shakes her head at Dylan. “There’s no hope for your brother.”

Dylan chuckles as Sherri hooks her arm in his and pulls him into the house. “I’ve got the bed made up for you in your old room.”

“Ma, now move outta the way so I can give my bro some man love,” Chad says as he gently pushes Sherri aside and grabs Dylan in a big hug, slapping him hard on the back.

Chad pulls back, grinning. “Damn, bro, you look a helluva lot better than you did the last time I saw you. I don’t even recognize you, dude.” His thick brows pull together as he continues to stare intently at Dylan.

Sherri interrupts, looking at Dylan adoringly. “It’s because he shaved. He’s so attractive under all that facial hair.”

“The shaving’s a huge improvement, I admit, but nah, that ain’t fucking it.”

Sherri turns and puts her hands on her hips as she stares up at the hulking six foot five Chad. “Why is it that you obey Nat’s rules about no cursing, but you won’t obey your mother? You just have no respect for me.”

“I respect you, Ma. It’s just for a few damn hours,” Chad says. “As soon as Nat shows up, my mouth will be fucking squeaky clean again, I promise.”

“Chad,” Sherri groans.

Chad grins as he grabs Sherri in a hug and lifts her a foot off of the ground, planting a big sloppy kiss on her cheek. “You know I’m your favorite son, Ma. Admit it. You fucking love me the most.”

As he puts her back down, Sherri rolls her eyes and wipes his kiss off of her face. “Not a chance,” she mutters, grinning happily.

Dylan smiles at their playful interaction. He misses this. He misses time like this with his family. “I’m gonna go upstairs and get settled in and let you two fight this one out,” he says as he heads for the staircase.

“Lunch is ready when you are,” Sherri calls from behind him.

He nods before making his way into his old bedroom – now a beautifully decorated guest room – and slumps onto the bed, tossing his bag on the floor.

Pulling out his phone, he stares at it. He misses Myra. He can’t seem to get her out of his damn head. He frowns as he tries to decide if he should call or text her. He figures texting would probably be the best thing to do; it wouldn’t seem so damn desperate. But if he does that, he won’t get to hear her voice.

He takes in a deep breath and dials her number.

“Hello?” Dylan immediately calms when he hears that one simple word spoken in her soft voice.

“Hi,” he replies as the corners of his mouth turn up.