She pulls away from him and starts kissing down his neck. He moans and his damn eyeballs roll back in his head. Eventually, he gently pulls her away from him. “Let’s go up to your bedroom.”
She nods.
As he follows her down the hallway, he smiles devilishly as his eyes stay fixed on her beautiful ass. Just as she gets to the bottom of the stairs, he scoops her up and tosses her over his shoulder.
“Put me down,” she yells. “Your back.”
“My back is fucking fine.”
He smiles all the way up the stairs to her bedroom as she continuously giggles. He throws her on the bed and watches as she bounces and laughs. “I didn’t know you were such caveman.”
“I’m a damn contractor. Of course I’m a fucking caveman.”
Myra giggles, but stops when Dylan begins to crawl up the bed and over her body like a predator, trapping her beneath him. She squeals and tries to scoot back on the bed, but he’s too fast for her and grabs her ankle. Her screams turn to moans as he begins kissing his way up her thigh.
CHAPTER 21
RUSSET, APPREHENSION
“Mm, wake up,” a velvety voice whispers in Myra’s ear as she feels a warm hand moving slowly up her thigh. Keeping her eyes closed, she smiles as she becomes aware of the body attached to that sexy voice. She can feel him snuggled up behind her, spooning her affectionately with his warm, naked body.
The hand climbs higher up her thigh and skims across her stomach to softly caress her breast. A thumb plays with her nipple as a mouth makes a hot path of open-mouthed kisses across her shoulder.
Stretching, she lazily reaches up and slides her fingers through his soft, thick hair. “This is the second time you’ve woken me up,” she says in a hoarse, sleepy voice with a contented smile on her face.
“Mmhm,” he hums against her skin, making it tingle. “I’m a needy man. Everything about you turns me the fuck on.”
Myra closes her eyes and moans softly as his words do delicious things to her body.
They take things much slower this time as they explore each other’s bodies. Dylan’s thrusts are deep yet controlled as his hand grips her waist and she stares up at him. She watches as a chunk of his hair falls onto his forehead before he leans down and places his mouth on hers. She moans as she responds to his kiss and wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him closer to her. They move unhurriedly together, hyperaware of every movement, sensitive to every touch.
“Please,” she begs as she clutches Dylan tightly. She simply wants more of him: more of his tender caresses along her skin, more of his hard length inside of her, more of his taut body against her own. She can’t get enough of him like this: so gentle yet so firm, so caring yet so passionate.
“Myra,” he says in a raspy voice against her throat. He gives her exactly what she begs for with every thrust, every touch, every breathy pant against her skin. It’s never been like this before for her. She’s never felt this way.
“Dylan, I... I’m...” Closing her eyes and throwing her head back, she can’t finish her sentence as her mouth opens with a silent scream and her orgasm overtakes her. Dylan’s movements become erratic as his grip on her waist tightens and he releases, pulsing deep inside of her.
“Myra,” he says her name again, barely above a whisper, as he lowers himself carefully onto her still-trembling body and tucks his head into the crook of her neck.
They lay quietly together for a long time, not talking, only being.
* * *
Lost in thought, Dylan pulls Myra onto his chest. Somehow being with her was different for him. He hasn’t felt this way since Sabrina, and maybe not even then. The nightmares that normally haunt him stayed away last night. It felt good, damn good.
His brows pull together. He needs to talk to her. When he showed up last night, he had every intention of just talking. And of course kissing, and maybe doing a little fondling, but nothing more. But as soon as he took one look at her, any thoughts of conversing immediately vanished from his damn brain. But right now he doesn’t want to ruin the memory of their incredible, amazing night – and morning – together. He’ll talk to her over breakfast. He’ll tell her all about his past. He’ll tell her everything.
* * *
Myra smiles brightly at him as she walks into the bedroom freshly showered. “I never knew cavemen liked to cuddle so much,” she says as she curls up into Dylan’s outstretched arms.
“You need to know these things about me,” he replies with a grin as he pulls her tight against him. “And by the way, your feet are fucking icebergs. You gotta warn a man about shit like that.”
Myra busts out laughing which causes him to start chuckling with her. They both laugh until Myra has to wipe tears from her eyes, and his stomach muscles ache a little. She rests her chin on his chest as she stares up at him. He doesn’t even try to wipe the huge smile off of his face as he stares back at her. She reaches one hand up and cradles his face softly. “I’ve never seen you smile so much.”
“You make me smile.”
“I do?”
He nods as he rubs her back softly.
She sighs. “I like seeing you this way. You usually seem... sad.”
“Maybe if I keep you around, you can keep the frowns off my face.”
Myra smiles. “Do you want breakfast? It’s almost noon but…”
Before Dylan can respond his stomach growls loudly. His eyes widen. “Shit. Sorry.”
Myra buries her face in Dylan’s chest and giggles. He loves that sound. He’ll never get tired of it.
“Why don’t you go take a shower? How’s pancakes sound?”
He pulls her up closer so that he can get access to her lips. He kisses them softly. “Sounds delicious,” he murmurs against them.
She hops off the bed and walks to the door. He smiles at how thoroughly fucked she looks even though she just took a shower. He likes that he made her look like that. He sits up on his elbows, staring at her bare legs that seem to go on for miles.
“There’s shampoo and soap in the shower. Blow dryer is on the, uh, sink. I left a towel and a toothbrush…” she trails off. “Stop staring at me,” she says, looking completely flustered.
“I will when you quit being so goddamn beautiful.”
A bashful smile crops up on her lips before her gaze drops to the floor. “Thanks,” she says before she smiles at him again and quickly leaves the room.
* * *
Myra can’t stop smiling as she steps into the kitchen. Hearing Dylan laugh, admiring that beautiful smile on his face and seeing him relax like that was something very special. She can’t even believe how handsome he looked. She sighs happily as she starts making the pancake batter.
Just as she’s finishing up the last of the pancakes, she frowns when she hears Dylan’s voice. She quickly flips the pancakes out onto a plate and walks into the living room.
He sits on the couch in just his jeans with his elbows on his knees and his phone dangling from his right hand. “Goddamn motherfucking shit,” he mumbles before raking his hand roughly through his hair.
“What’s wrong?” Myra asks.
“Fuck,” he yells as he stares at the floor, causing Myra to jump. “I gotta go,” he mumbles as he quickly tugs on his socks and boots. He stands and shoves his phone in his back pocket.
“Where the hell is my shirt...” he grumbles under his breath. Myra catches sight of it sticking out from underneath the small table in the hallway. Without saying a word, she swiftly walks over, picks it up, and silently hands it to him.
He slips it over his head and quickly shrugs on his coat.
Stepping close to her, he stares down into her eyes. “I…” he says before clearing his throat. “Something’s come up. I’m not mad at you; I’m just pissed at some other shit in my life. I’ll call you as soon as I get this straightened out, all right?”
Myra nods.
“I’m sorry,” he says as his eyes search hers.
She nods. “It
’s okay. Go take care of it.”
He leans down and kisses her sweetly. Pulling back, he stares at her again, his eyes soft, as he gently rubs his thumb over her cheek. “Thank you,” he whispers. She doesn’t move as she watches him exit her front door, leaving her confused and all alone in her living room.
* * *
“Fuck,” Dylan roars as he slams his fist against the back of the passenger seat of his truck. He shouldn’t have left Myra standing there like that with no explanation. But how could he even begin to explain to her about the voicemail he just listened to when she doesn’t know shit about his past. His heart pounds as he rubs the center of his chest. He can’t believe he has to leave her after what happened last night between them. It was fucking incredible; one of the best nights of his goddamn life.
He quickly grabs a cigarette and lights up, taking a couple of drags as he continues staring at her front door. He needs to go back in there and tell her right the fuck now. He’s put this shit off for too long. He doesn’t have to leave immediately anyway. He knows Myra would never judge him about all of his shit. That isn’t the issue. His problem is talking about that shit period. Because it hurts. But he can do this. He has to do this. She deserves to know.
He nods his head as he opens the door and steps out. Stretching his achy back and puffing some more on his cigarette, he stares at her front door a few more minutes. As he takes a step forward, his heart starts to race. He stops and takes in several breaths before he takes another step forward. His chest tightens and he has trouble breathing.
Turning around, he stumbles breathlessly back to his truck and leans against it with his eyes closed, trying to get himself to calm the fuck down. After a couple of tense moments, his heart rate starts to slow. “Goddamn it,” he mumbles under his breath before he slams his fist into the door of his truck. Yanking it open, he climbs in and shoves it into reverse.
* * *
While Myra dumps the pancakes into the trash, her phone rings. Her shoulders slump when she sees the caller ID.
“Hey.”
She frowns when she hears loud chewing and crunching on the other end of the line. “Sorry,” Susie says. “I’m on my lunch hour. I’m having the worst day ever. I’m pissy and hung over and you see what time it is. I’m only about three hours past my lunch. And you know I don’t do well without my food.”
Myra smiles and hums in agreement.
“Sorry I didn’t call you last night. I had to go with Jeff to one of his boring-ass work things. And I was so damn bored that I ended up getting drunk by the end of the night.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Oh, it was a barrel full. I’ve had more fun getting a wart burned off my big toe. Guess what Jeff did to me when we got home? I fell asleep so he left my drunk fat ass in the car. I mean I know there’s no way he could have picked me up since I’m Fatty McLardopants.”
“You’re not fat. Quit saying stuff like that.”
“No problem, Miss I-Weigh-93.3-Pounds-With-My-Coat-On-And-Rocks-In-My-Pockets,” Susie says in a sarcastic voice. “Anyway, I woke up at like five-thirty this morning with a nasty crick in my neck from sitting in that stupid car. I asked Jeff why the hell he left me out there, and he said something about how it would’ve taken a nuclear blast to wake me. I asked him if he had any plans on waking me up for work, and he said he was going to get out the garden hose and nail me in the head with it while he blared the car horn. I hate that man sometimes.”
Myra laughs.
“So what’re you doing today? Moping around and missing your scruffy hot-as-fuck tool man? When’s he coming back to town? Is he still calling you all the time?”
“Um…”
“What? You talk and I’ll eat.”
“Well… he showed up last night and, wehadsex.”
Myra hears spluttering, coughing, hacking and wheezing coming through the phone. “Are you okay?”
When Susie finally speaks, her voice sounds strangled. “No…” she says before she stops to cough again. “I just took a big old gulp of Diet Coke when you said that and snorted it right out my nose. Then I swallowed, and some went down the wrong pipe. You almost killed me. My nostrils are burning, my…” She has to stop again to cough. “… throat is on fire, and I’ve got tears running down my cheeks. And the Diet Coke that went flying out my nose, landed right on my slice of pizza.”
“You’re not supposed to be eating pizza.”
“I’m stressed and I’m cheating so who gives a shit. You had sex with the scruffy Greek god asshole?” Susie shouts. “The dirty tool man of my dreams? Oh my sweet baby Jesus on a post-it note. I can’t believe it. I thought you said you weren’t going to have sex with him.”
Myra sighs. “I was weak. I couldn’t resist him.”
“Good God above the earth, girl, no one, I repeat, no one could resist that sweet piece of flamin’ hotness,” Susie says before squealing giddily and breaking out into another coughing fit.
Myra rolls her eyes.
Susie clears her throat. “Was he a savage? I know someone that angry has to be full of some serious animal savagery. Did he rip your clothes off? Please tell me he shredded your panties.”
“No, of course not, he was a total gentleman.”
“No panty ripping? Damn. I totally had him pegged as a panty ripper. God, I’d love to have someone rip my panties from my body. But I think the only way Jeff could get my ginormous grandma undies shredded would be with some garden sheers or a bush whacker,” Susie says before giggling crazily.
Myra can’t help but laugh along with her.
“Now I’m not buying that the scruffy Greek god asshole was a gentleman.”
“Well, he was. He was sweet and tender and passionate all at the same time.”
“Okay, that’s not working for me. I need something dirty here. So was he packing a fully-loaded footlong?”
“Oh my God. I’m not answering that.”
“You better or I’ll do something to embarrass you. You know what I’m capable of.”
“Fine. Yes. Are you happy?”
Susie lets out a shriek. “I knew it. I knew that man was packing the beef.”
Myra squeezes her eyes shut and covers her face with one hand in mortification.
“So where did you do it?”
Myra frowns. “You mean the first time?”
She immediately smacks herself on the forehead for letting that slip.
“What do you mean by ‘the first time’?” Susie asks slowly.
“Uh…”
“How many times did you copulate with your contractor?”
“I don’t know.”
“Spit it out.”
“More than once, okay?”
“Please tell me he had more than one condom on him.”
“Well…”
“I told you to use a custard catcher,” Susie yells. “Why the hell didn’t you listen to me? What is wrong with you? Now you probably have some hoochie coochie cooties.”
“We just, we got carried away the first time, and I figured we’d already done it once so…”
“I can’t believe you. This is the damn twenty-first century. His footlong could be carrying E-coli or some freaky deadly wiener disease. You know better than that.”
“I know.”
“Well, go buy a box of custard catchers before you sex him up again. When are you going to see him next?”
Myra takes in a deep breath. “I don’t know. This morning... after we... he got some bad news and he left.”
“What bad news?”
“I don’t know. He said he’d explain it to me later. I haven’t heard from him since.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Susie shouts. “He left and said he’d explain later? He couldn’t bother to take two seconds to tell you why? God, that pisses me off. He’d better not be pulling a fuck and duck. That’s some shit Trent would do and that makes me want to do some incredibly violent things to that fine ass of his. God, I can’t belie
ve you got to see that ass. Did it look good? Did you spank it a little?”
“No, now stop.”
“Sorry but your man’s cheeks are fine. Look, I hate to run, but I gotta get back to work. I’m swamped.”
“Okay,” Myra says.
“I love you and I’m so proud of you for riding the tool man’s drill,” Susie says. “Trust me, you needed it.”
Myra shakes her head and laughs at her crazy but incredibly loyal friend. “I’ll let you know if I hear from him.”
“Good. And if he doesn’t get in touch with you, I’ll have my Kung Fu ready to kick his fine ass.”
Myra smiles. “Thanks. Hopefully that won’t be necessary.”
* * *
After Myra does some laundry, she sits down at her kitchen table with a cup of coffee. She takes a sip while staring out of the window. She frowns as she thinks about her conversation with Susie.
For once, Myra completely agrees with her best friend. Dylan’s behavior did mirror Trent’s with the secrecy and the empty promises because why couldn’t he have told her where he was going? If it was a family emergency or something, why couldn’t he have just said that? And why does he keep hiding his past, promising to explain it to her but never doing it? If it’s this difficult for him to talk about, his past might be something that Myra might not want to hear about or be involved in at all.
Being patient and understanding with Trent allowed him to make a total fool out of her. She can’t keep repeating this cycle with the men in her life.
She thinks back to how Dylan freaked out over their first kiss. Her stomach grows queasy as she considers the fact that he could be having a similar reaction to their sleeping together.
Her phone buzzes with a text and Myra’s heart skips a beat as she picks it up and reads it.
Color of Loneliness Page 32