Color of Forgiveness (17 page)

Myra places a hand on his chest. “I love
it,” she tells him softly.

His brow furrows as he looks down at her.
“You do?”

She nods, smiling. “It’s probably one of the
most romantic things anyone has ever done for me.”

The corner of his mouth turns up.
“Really?”

“Yes,” she says as she grabs his hands and
turns them over until his palms face up and begins to tenderly kiss
the rough calluses on them. “I can’t believe you did that for me,”
she says in between kisses. “You did all of that work, just for
me.”

“My lips worked hard too.”

She giggles, looking up at him. “They did?”
she asks, smiling as she stares at them. “What did they do?”

He shrugs. “They were busy saying shit they
shouldn’t have,” he says with a grin. But the grin disappears when
she stands on her tiptoes and outlines his lips with her
fingertips. Her hands cradle his jaw, gently pulling him down
towards her. Ever so softly, she touches her lips to the corner of
his mouth, pulling back slightly and letting her breath fan across
his lips as she moves to the other side and softly kisses the other
corner. She places a soft, gentle kiss directly on his lips… and
another one before nibbling gently on his lower lip.

With a groan, he pulls her body roughly
against his and deepens the kiss. His lips are so soft, a deep
contrast to the hard muscles of his body that she can feel pressed
against her. His tongue sweeps across her lower lip, gently
touching hers.

Dylan’s hands move lower and he shuffles her
backwards until her back hits the side of her car. He presses even
closer, rubbing his hardness against her. Harsh pants leave her
mouth as her hands reach up to run through his hair only to find
the rim of his baseball cap. Grunting a little in frustration, her
hands find the soft hair peeking out from underneath it, and she
begins to run her fingers through it. His lips move to her neck.
“
Myra…
” he hums against her skin. “I missed you so much...
your skin, your smell. The way you taste right here…” he whispers,
gently biting a spot right behind her ear before running his tongue
over it and causing a shiver down her spine.

“I missed you too.”

“Tell me to stop. I can’t fucking control
myself around you,” he groans as his lips and tongue drag down her
neck. A gasp catches in her throat as his hips press close to
hers.

“Don’t stop,” she pants. “Please…”

“You’re so sexy… so goddamn beautiful…” he
mumbles before his lips find hers again, his tongue exploring her
mouth.

She needs to get closer. She wants him
naked. Skin on skin, on top of her, inside of her…

His frantic kisses slow and he rests his
forehead against hers with his eyes clenched shut. “I need to
stop…”

“No. Don’t stop. Keep going…”

He places his hands on the car and pushes
back slightly, no longer touching her but effectively caging her
in. “I shouldn’t be attacking you like an animal against the side
of your car,” he growls. “I told myself I wouldn’t do this shit
anymore, yet here I am doing it again. I couldn’t even wait until
you got into your damn house. You deserve better than this—”

“Stop it. Dylan, I want you. I like it when
you do that… when you take charge. I like that
a lot
.”

“You do?”

She nods, too embarrassed to tell him what
his actions do to her body.

“Well, I just shouldn’t be doing this shit
out here where anybody could see…” he says as his eyes dart around,
and he looks towards the road.

Myra’s eyes follow his. “There’s only
Jackie…” she says. She frowns and her mouth drops open when she
hears an engine start somewhere in the darkness immediately
followed by the loud screeching sound of tires peeling rubber. A
car with no lights hidden behind some trees tears off down the
road.

“What the hell?” Dylan shouts as he pushes
off the car and runs towards the end of the driveway and into the
street. Myra’s heart pounds as she chases after him. Her eyes
search in the darkness after the vehicle, trying to catch sight of
a make or model, but she can’t see anything. It turns at the end of
the road and disappears into the night.

Dylan looks at her. “Who the fuck was that?
Was somebody
watching
us?”

Myra swallows hard. “I don’t know…” she says
before looking back down the now empty street, an ominous feeling
growing in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

Standing in the kitchen, Dylan tightens his
arms around Myra and rubs his cheek against her hair. He wants to
just hold her and never let her go. Seeing that car take off like
that really set him off, it just wasn’t sitting right with him.
Once he’d gotten her suitcases inside, he’d insisted on checking
every room in the house. After scoping the house, he found Myra
sitting at the kitchen table with a worried look on her face and
immediately pulled her into his arms.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly.

She pulls back slightly and looks up at him.
“Yeah,” she says.

Frowning, he pushes her hair behind her ear.
“You sure?”

She nods but he can tell she’s still shaken
up.

“I want to go check all of the locks. Will
you be okay for a few minutes?”

“Of course…”

He studies her face for a moment and rubs
his thumb against her cheek. “Why don’t you call Jackie and ask her
if she’s seen anyone hanging around here while I’m gone.”

“Okay.”

He kisses her softly on the lips before
reluctantly letting her go. He checks the locks on both the front
and back doors. The deadbolts seem to be secure, but Dylan decides
to change both of them out with a newer model just to be on the
safe side. He also plans to add a chain to both doors as an extra
precaution.

His mind races when he starts checking the
windows. Myra lives on the outskirts of town with Jackie as her
only neighbor. With her being so isolated just the thought of
someone sitting in a car in the dark watching her house makes him
want to throw her over his shoulder and never let her out of his
sight.

He steps back into the kitchen to find Myra
still on the phone. She looks relieved to see him.

“Um, Jackie?” she says. “Dylan’s back so I
have to go.”

Myra finally hangs up and shakes her head.
“She’s so lonely,” she mumbles before looking up at Dylan. “She’s
still at work; she was doing inventory. She said it’s been quiet
around here and that she hasn’t seen anyone.”

That doesn’t make Dylan feel any better.
There’s only one person that he can think of that would be stalking
Myra’s house.
Derek Marshall.
Dylan thought he did a good
job of giving that fucker a clear message to leave Myra the hell
alone when he kicked his ass, but he must be a little unclear about
some things. Dylan decides he might need to give Derek a reminder…
with his fists.

* * *

Myra frowns as she watches Dylan pace back
and forth in her living room. From the moment he saw that car take
off, he’s been in a panic. She likes the fact that he seems to care
about her and wants her to be safe, but at this point, she thinks
he’s overreacting. Jackie hasn’t seen anybody and besides, who
would be watching her house?

“What’s wrong?” she asks. “You said you were
going to replace the locks on the doors so what’s bothering
you?”

He stops pacing and rubs the back of his
neck and takes in a deep breath. “All of your windows are shit.
They’re so old anyone could pry them open with a damn screwdriver.
But to replace them all… that’s a huge job. I’d have to special
order most of them and—”

“Come here,” she says as she pats a spot on
the couch beside her.

Dylan’s brows pull together and she can
clearly see his reluctance, but he finally comes over and sits
down. She grabs his hand. “Thank you for checking the locks and
being so concerned, but I’m not going to replace every window in my
house just because we saw one car outside. It could’ve just been
some kids or something. I love that you’re being protective of me,
but you have to stop worrying. I’m sure it was nothing and—”

“If Marshall shows up again…” Dylan
growls.

Myra frowns. “You think it was Derek?”

“I don’t know but he’s a prime fucking
suspect in my mind.”

“Well, I’m a cop’s daughter and I can take
care of myself. Derek just took me by surprise that day, but I do
have a gun license and I know how to use one. There’s a gun sitting
right over there by the door,” she says with a nod of her head. “I
keep one close by at all times.”

Dylan continues frowning at her. “Don’t go
to that store of his without me. I’ll take you when you need to
go.”

“Okay…” she says as she rubs her thumb over
his knuckles, “if it makes you feel better.”

“If anything ever happened to you…” he says,
trailing off. She stares into his eyes and sees so much emotion
there. Fear, anger… and something else she can’t quite define. He
shakes his head and looks back down at their hands. “I can’t even
fucking think about it.”

Reaching up, she tenderly touches his cheek.
“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” she whispers. He looks into her
eyes again before his gaze drops to her lips. His hand finds their
way into her hair and he brings her towards him, kissing her lips
hard and urgently. She climbs into his lap, straddling his hips,
eager to eliminate the distance between them. The brim of his hat
proves to be an annoying obstacle so she pushes it away and her
fingers begin to run through his hair while their mouths never
leave each other’s. She can’t get close enough to him; not even
when she lets her hands move lower and graze along his abdomen. His
breath hitches and his stomach muscles twitch under her fingertips.
But it’s still not enough.

She’s only spent one night with this man.
One incredible, mind-blowing night filled with lust and passion.
But so much has changed since then. She feels like she really knows
Dylan now. She knows so much more about him; knows his heart and
the pain that he carries.

Her hands make their way under his shirt,
skimming over his hard muscles, feeling the strength in them. She
can’t imagine anything happening to her while in his arms. He
shrugs out of his flannel shirt and leans forward, giving her
access to pull his shirt up and over his head. Her skin heats when
she catches sight of his bare torso so toned and lean from years of
hard work.

Dylan's mind seems to be on the same track
as his hands reach out to grasp the bottom of her sweater,
carefully pulling it up and easing it over her head. He discards it
somewhere on the floor, his eyes travel over her lace-covered
breasts. Lifting his hand, he strokes the pads of his fingers from
her collarbone down to the top of her breast, sending little
shivers down her spine.

Myra doesn't have the patience right now to
go slow. Nimbly, she reaches behind her back and undoes the clasp
of her bra, watching with delight the way Dylan's eyes widen when
the fabric falls into her lap.

It feels like she has electricity running
through her veins. Every nerve in her body is on edge, waiting for
his touch. When his fingers brush over her nipples, goose bumps
break out and spread over her skin. An embarrassingly loud moan
leaves her lips, apparently giving Dylan the encouragement to lean
forward and press a kiss against her breast.

The feel of his stubble across her skin is
intoxicating. He kisses and sucks against her flesh until she's
putty in his arms, panting from desire. The wild look of lust in
his eyes when he glances up at her leaves her breathless and
wanting.

A soft moan slips out of her as he sucks her
nipple roughly, grazing his teeth across the tip. She squirms in
his lap, feeling a deep ache for him between her legs. If she has
to wait another second, she's going to explode.

"Dylan...” she moans, wanting to beg him for
more but unable to find the strength to form a complete
sentence.

At the sound of his name, his hands reach up
into her hair and he tugs her face down meet to his. His kisses are
rough and harsh against her lips; she feels his desperate need for
her in every touch.

With frenzied hands, she begins to unbutton
his jeans. It’s harder than it should be with her hands trembling.
Dylan must read her anxiousness as something else because he grabs
her hands, stopping her. “We don’t have to…” he says his voice
rough and husky. “We can wait.”

“I don’t want to wait,” she gasps, still out
of breath. “I want you, Dylan. Please.”

He groans and his lips are on hers again.
“You’re making this so fucking hard on me,” he mumbles in between
heated kisses. His hands are on her skin, everywhere. “I care about
you… so much…”

“Me too,” she says, but it feels like a
silly understatement in light of her recent epiphany. For a moment
it crosses her mind to tell him, but those three simple words lie
silent on her lips. She can’t say them yet. Dylan’s not ready, and
for that matter, neither is she. But she can show him. She can love
him with her touch. She can paint on his skin the words that are in
her heart.

She rains little kisses over his collarbone
and across his chest, smiling against his skin at the feeling of
his speeding heartbeat.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his eyes sliding
closed.

Finding his zipper again, she expects him to
stop her, but this time he doesn’t. She makes quick work of his
jeans and boxers, pulling them off all at once. Within moments, the
rest of her clothes are on the floor. He sits back down on the
couch, completely bare, waiting for her to make the first move.
It's impossible to keep her eyes from greedily trailing over his
naked body. Dylan is by far the most beautiful man she’s ever seen.
His lean, muscled frame has the perfect amount of hair on it to
make him incredibly masculine. The structure of his face and the
expressiveness in his eyes brings out an other-worldly beauty in
him. When she catches his eyes moving up and down her naked body,
it causes a rush of warmth to spread across her skin.