Color of Forgiveness (24 page)

He hums contentedly as she continues to run
her fingers through his hair. “I don’t have shit in the house to
eat other than some hot pockets.”

“We could go to the store…”

“I don’t wanna go anywhere. Besides, if I
see Marshall, I might have to kick his ass.”

Myra laughs. “You’re so crazy.”

Dylan’s lips touch her collarbone, her
shoulder. “You make me crazy. Mmm… I like you all sweaty,” he hums
against her skin. “I think I’ll just keep you sweaty all the
time.”

Myra giggles happily and another hour goes
by before they get their pizza ordered.

* * *

“Jesus, I’m full,” Dylan groans as he tosses
his paper plate on the coffee table and leans back against the
couch. He can’t believe he ate his half of the pizza and half of
her half.

“You did work up an appetite,” Myra says
with a laugh.

Dylan chuckles. “Guess so. Burning the
sheets up like we did does take a lot out of a man.”

Myra smiles and takes a sip of her tea.

Dylan’s phone rings. Leaning forward, he
picks it up off of the coffee table and looks at the caller ID.
Seeing an unknown number, he tosses it back down. “Just someone
wanting an estimate,” he mutters as he stands and scratches his
bare chest. Looking down at Myra, he can’t help but smile at her
wearing only his T-shirt. She looks so damn beautiful.

“I’m gonna grab another beer,” he says. “Do
you want some more tea?”

“Sure,” she says as she hands him her
glass.

After getting their drinks, his phone rings
again just as he steps back into the living room. “Goddamn it,” he
grumbles as he sets the drinks on the coffee table. “I’m gonna have
to put that fucker on silent.” Grabbing the phone, he groans when
he looks at the caller ID.

“Another estimate?” Myra asks.

“No, it’s my brother,” he says as he
silences his phone and tosses it back on the coffee table. He sits
down and takes a swig of his beer.

“Shouldn’t you answer it?”

Dylan shakes his head. “I’ll call him
later.”

“I can go in the other room if you
want.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dylan growls as
he grabs her and starts kissing her neck. The phone starts ringing
again.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles as he reaches for
it. He sees Chad’s name again and silences it and puts his lips
back on Myra’s neck.

Myra shivers and smiles from his kisses but
tries to push him away. “What if it’s an emergency?”

Dylan hadn’t thought about Natalie. He just
assumed Chad was calling to harass him again. Frowning, he sits up
and quickly grabs his phone, flipping it open.

“Yeah?” he answers.

“Hey, bro,” Chad says. “I didn’t think you
were going to answer there for a minute. Nat’s having contractions
again so she’s back in the hospital. We just got here a little
while ago.”

Dylan swallows hard. “Shit. Is she
okay?”

“We don’t know yet. They’ve got her into a
room and started an IV.”

“Do you need me to come there?”

“No, I just wanted to let you know what was
going on. Mom’s with the boys and she’s gonna spend the night with
them tonight.”

“Do you guys need anything?”

“Nah, we’re good so far.”

Dylan clears his throat. “Well, tell her I’m
thinking about her. Call me later and let me know what you find
out.”

“I will. Uh, I’m out in the hallway, and it
looks like there’s a doc coming. Gotta go.”

“Sure.”

Dylan sets his phone on the coffee table and
drops his head into his hands.

Myra touches his shoulder. “Is everything
okay?”

He takes in a deep breath and blows it out
slowly before looking up at her. “Yeah… No. My sister-in-law,
Natalie, is in the hospital… early labor. She’s been on bed rest,
but—”

“Oh, no,” Myra gasps, her eyes wide. “How
far along is she?”

Dylan’s brows furrow. “I don’t even know. I
think she has at least a couple of months left.”

“I really hope everything works out.”

Dylan tugs Myra against him and wraps his
arms around her, leaning back against the couch. He props his bare
feet up on the coffee table and sighs. “Me, too…” He holds her as
he worries about his family... and his unborn niece.

* * *

Myra hears an alarm clock go off but she
frowns because it doesn’t sound right. Someone groans next to her
ear and a scratchy male voice mumbles, “
Fucker
,” and she
immediately smiles in relief when she recognizes that angry voice.
With her eyes still closed, she presses her nose against his neck
and breaths him in. He smacks the snooze button and then presses
himself tight up against her.

The combination of his warm body heat and
the comfortable bed causes her to doze off again. When the alarm
goes off a second time, Dylan growls and smacks it again – a little
rougher this time – and snuggles closer to her. “Fuck, I could stay
here forever with you like this,” he whispers in a husky voice.

Myra hums in agreement and smiles.

“I have to shower,” he says against her
neck.

Myra runs her fingers through his hair and
hums again.

His lips kiss behind her ear. “Take one with
me.”

Her smile gets bigger. She hums again.

“My shower’s small,” he says before gently
biting her neck.

She moans a little. “It is?”

“Yeah, you might have to wrap your legs
around my waist to make room for the both of us.”

She laughs lightly. “I like that idea.”

He presses his hardness against her. “My
cock might get in the way. Do you have somewhere I can put it?”

Myra moans again, louder this time. “Yeah,”
she says, her lips slightly parted.

Dylan stands and picks her up, his hands
grasping her ass as she wraps her arms around his neck and her legs
around his waist, and he carries her to the bathroom. He presses
her up against the bathroom door and tries to kiss her, but she
turns her head and covers her mouth. “Morning breath,” she
mumbles.

“I don’t give a shit. We ate the same thing
last night.”

“Onions,” she reminds him, scrunching her
nose up.

His brows pull together sharply and his
lower lip sticks out a little, but he does set her down. She grabs
her toothbrush and toothpaste out of her bag as he flips on the
water. She joins him back at the sink as he starts to brush his
teeth. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, she can’t help but
smile. His hair is sticking up all over his head from her fingers
constantly being in it, the scruff on his face is scruffier and he
has a bit of toothpaste on his chin. And he has an erection. He’s
the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen in her life especially
when he gives her a big, frothy smile back in the mirror.

After both of them swirl some mouthwash,
Dylan starts the shower and pulls the curtain back, letting her get
in first. He follows after her and she turns to face him, backing
up into the spray, letting the water soak her hair and run down her
back.

Dylan’s hands find her breasts and within
moments, his mouth sucks roughly on her nipple. His hands move,
seemingly everywhere at once, causing her skin to tingle and
ignite. His long fingers explore the needy place between her legs,
rubbing and pinching. His lips crash against hers; she can feel his
need, his want in every touch.

Lifting her, she wraps her legs around his
waist as he presses her back against the cold tiles. She gasps, the
cold sensation shocking her skin. With one swift movement he
sheaths himself deep inside of her, causing her to cry out.

“
Fuck
,” he groans, panting heavily
against her ear as he begins sliding quickly in and out of her.

“Oh, god…
Dylan
.”

“You feel so fucking good.”

His pace gets faster, his breathing more
labored as he presses her harder against the tiles. She wants to
see him lose control; lose himself with her, inside of her.

“Shit,” he grunts as he squeezes her ass
tighter and seems to somehow thrust even deeper inside of her.
“Fuck,” he pants, his grip tightening as he pulses hard inside of
her, grunting and groaning with each thrust while finding his
release.

He sags against her, leaning his forehead
against the tiles, panting heavily. She drops to her feet. “You
okay?” she asks.

“No,” he says between heavy breaths. “I
almost fucking passed out.”

She turns the faucet from hot to cool and
pushes him into it. He leans his head back into the water, letting
it run over his face. Wiping the water from his eyes, he looks down
at her, his cheeks pink and red splotches on his chest from the
exertion. She loves seeing him like that, knowing that she caused
it. He smiles and slowly shakes his head. “You’re gonna fucking
kill me, woman.”

“It wouldn’t be a bad way to die, would it?”
she asks with a grin. Reaching for the soap, she lathers it up in
her hands.

He stares into her eyes for a moment. “No.
That would be one hell of a way to go out.”

She smiles as she starts soaping up his
chest; she plans on washing every square inch of his incredible
body.

* * *

Dylan slips on his boots and sits down on
the edge of the bed, watching as Myra puts on her socks and
shoes.

“Did you ever find out how Natalie’s doing?”
she asks.

“Yeah, she’s doing okay. After you fell
sleep last night, I called Chad and I got to talk to her. The docs
got the contractions to stop, but they’re gonna keep her overnight
just in case. She might get to go home today.”

“That’s good to hear. Is everything okay
with the baby?”

“Yeah, she said if she does have the baby
now, there’s a good survival rate. The baby would just have to
spend a lot of time in the hospital.” Dylan takes in a deep breath,
rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “I was so damn relieved
to hear that because I didn’t know… I thought maybe the baby
might…” he says before gulping.

Myra leans towards him and wraps her arms
around his neck. “She’s going to be fine,” she whispers. He pulls
her closer, burying his face in her hair. He holds her for a long
moment then pulls back slightly, staring down into her eyes.

“That appointment I made with that therapist
is today, but I’m canceling it because I’m not leaving you
alone.”

“
No
,” Myra says, shaking her head.
“You
have
to go.”

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Listen to me. I could not believe it when
you told me you’d made an appointment because I honestly didn’t
think you would. But you did. And I’m so proud of you that you took
that step. You need this, Dylan. I know you want to protect me, but
you can’t be with me every minute of the day. I have guns that I
own and inherited from my dad and Grampie; I have one in my purse
right now. You’re going to have to trust me when I say I can take
care of myself. I really want you to go to this appointment. You’ll
only be gone for a few hours and I promise I’ll sit at home with a
gun in my lap until you get back.”

Dylan frowns. “I don’t know…”

“Please?”

He groans. “Fine, but just know that I’m not
one bit fucking happy about this.”

A huge smile spreads across her face. “Thank
you,” she says happily as she climbs into his lap and attacks his
lips, causing his dick to harden in his jeans.

* * *

Dylan hands the receptionist the stack of
papers she gave him earlier to fill out. “We’ll call your name
shortly,” she tells him with a smile.

Dylan sits and his leg bounces up and down
as he waits. He wishes like hell he could run outside and smoke
right now. Wiping the back of his hand over his forehead, he
wonders why they have the heat turned up so high. He takes in a
couple of heavy breaths and wipes his hands on his jeans. He digs
his phone out of his pocket and stares at it. The only reason he’s
here is because of Myra. She thinks this therapy shit is going to
work but he knows better. Talking about it won’t make it go
away.

He quickly types out a text.

U ok –D

A few seconds later a response pops up.

I’m completely safe and sound. Are you okay?
–M

He wipes his forehead again.

No –D

;) You’re going to be fine, I promise. I
miss you –M

I mis u 2 –D

A woman calls out his name. He silences his
phone and shoves it back into his pocket.

“Hi. I’m Dr. Mitchum,” she says, holding out
her hand.

Mitchum?

Dylan frowns and stares down at her hand,
his stomach knotting painfully. Swallowing hard, he somehow manages
to reach his hand out. She grasps it firmly. “It’s a pleasure to
meet you… May I call you Dylan?”

He nods.

“Follow me. I’m all the way at the end of
the hallway,” she says, turning and giving him a smile.

She opens the door to the last office on the
right and holds it open for him. “Here we are. Have a seat.” He
steps inside and slumps down into a leather chair in front of an
oak desk.

“So, Dylan,” she says as she looks down at
the folder in front of her. “I see here that you’ve come for some
grief counseling, which happens to be my area of expertise. I’d
like to tell you a bit about myself before we get started. I’ve
been working as a therapist for the last fifteen years. I chose
grief counseling due to my own personal experiences. I lost my
parents in a car accident when I was thirteen, and my brother died
from an overdose a few years after that. So I’ve been on both sides
of the spectrum as far as grief is concerned.”

She looks down at her desk. “I’ve read over
the paperwork that you filled out and I’d like to ask you a few
questions if you don’t mind, just to get to know you a little
better.”

Dylan bristles.

“I read that you’ve seen a couple of
therapists in Boise in the past. How did that go?”