Colters' Lady

Chapter Fifteen

Lily cast sideways glances at Dillon as they drove into town but never could figure out anything to say, so she remained silent.

She had that nervous, edgy feeling like people got on first dates, and she supposed for all practical purposes this was.

She kept expecting him to initiate conversation. She figured he had any number of questions about her. His brothers had to have filled him in on how they met her and the circumstances of her life. But he never said a word. She didn’t know if she was grateful or if she was annoyed he wasn’t more curious about her.

Then she had to stifle her laughter. No, she wasn’t ready to divulge the reasons why she’d been homeless, and she should be grateful they seemed willing to wait. They didn’t press, and maybe that’s why she was willing to venture down this unconventional path with them.

She’d been reassured after meeting the Colter family. She’d been wildly curious and apprehensive, knowing the dynamics of their relationship beforehand. But they’d made it seem so normal. So acceptable.

It was obvious that the older Colter men adored Holly and that they were at ease with their relationship.

Maybe she’d expected tension. Jealousy. Something overt to signal disquiet with the arrangement.

Instead she’d walked into a very normal household and been surrounded by the feeling of warmth and love.

And happiness. True contentment, and maybe that was the biggest draw of all for her.

She was ready to move forward. Put away the awful guilt and grief that had been a daily battle for so long now. How much time had passed? She found that time had little meaning when the goal was just to survive another day on the streets.

But that wasn’t her life. It hadn’t been. It had been her choice to walk away even though at the time she hadn’t felt or wanted to feel any alternative.

It seemed silly to her now, and she was a little shamed by her willingness to simply give up. Could anyone possibly understand the impetus for her actions?

Maybe it was time to close that chapter on her life and open the door to another. All she could do was try.

Dillon drove down the main street of Clyde, passed his pub and turned onto a paved road that climbed above the town. It turned to dirt and rock after a mile or so, and she looked curiously around as they rode higher.

“You live up here?” she asked.

He nodded. “It’s not much, but it suits me.”

They rounded the bend and the road dead-ended into a clearing. She caught her breath as she saw the gorgeous cabin. There was maybe an acre of cleared grassy area broken up by rocks, but the area beyond was densely forested, a mixture of aspens and pine.

“Not much? It’s beautiful!”

He cast her a sideways smile. “Glad you like it. Want to have a look around before I pull the bike out?”

She nodded eagerly and opened her door. The first thing she became aware of was the silence. Only the occasional rustle of tree limbs from a gentle breeze disturbed the peace and tranquility that blanketed the area.

She inhaled deeply, enjoying the crisp pine-scented air. Not waiting for Dillon, she wandered forward, drawn to the cedar porch and the rocking chair that swayed gently every time a breeze blew through. As she got closer, she heard the light creaking noise the chair made. She paused at the steps and drank in the homey, rustic feel of the house, felt it wrap around her and draw her closer.

Dillon came to stand beside her and curled his arm around her waist. “This is it, home sweet home, or the bachelor pad as my mom calls it.”

“It’s awfully big to be a bachelor pad. I can’t wait to see the inside.” He took her up the steps and opened the door then gestured for her to go ahead of him.

“You don’t lock your door?” she asked.

He smiled. “No reason here. No one comes up unless they’re here to visit. I’m the only person who lives on this road. I had to have the second half built for access.” She glanced around the living room and was taken by the richness of the woodwork and the large stone fireplace that was the centerpiece of the cozy area.

“It all looks custom. Did you have it designed and built to spec?” A hint of color dusted his cheeks. “I did it all myself. Well, the dads helped me, but I designed it and did most of the woodwork myself. Took me two years, but it’s exactly as I wanted it.” Her eyes widened. “It’s gorgeous, Dillon. You’re very talented.” The large overstuffed sectional sofa beckoned. It looked so inviting and comfortable that she couldn’t resist trying it out. As soon as she sat, the cushions enveloped her and sucked her into the couch.

She kicked off her shoes and curled her feet underneath her. The sigh escaped before she could call it back.

Dillon stood several feet away, his eyes dark as he watched her. “Can I just say how natural you look sitting on my couch in my living room all curled up like you’re at home?”

It was the first time he’d said anything directly to her that hinted at a desire for her to stay. He’d kissed her—boy had he kissed her—but while Michael and Seth had been more vocal and forthcoming, Dillon had been quiet. Until now.

“I like seeing you here, Lily,” he said in a husky voice. “You belong here.” He moved forward, slowly, like he didn’t want to frighten her. Then he sat next to her on the couch and turned to face her. He put his hand just over her knee and leaned toward her, his hand sliding up to her thigh.

“Kiss me, Lily. This time you kiss me.” She sucked in her breath and then glanced at his hand still resting on her thigh. Tentatively she reached out and slid her palm up his arm, and then down to his wrist where his tattoo began. She traced the lines with her fingertip until she reached the sleeve of his T-shirt.

“You’re killing me,” he said. “Kiss me.”

Using his arm for leverage, she leaned forward, nervous but fascinated by the intensity in his gaze. He had a sensual mouth. Full lips that looked utterly kissable. And just enough shadow on his jaw to make him damn sexy.

She touched his cheek with her other hand and skimmed her fingers down to feel the rasp of stubble against her skin.

He closed his eyes and leaned further into her touch just as she pressed her lips to his in the lightest of kisses. He tensed beneath her fingers but held still, content to allow her to be the aggressor.

“I want to see your tattoo,” she whispered against his lips.

“I want you to see a hell of a lot more than that,” he muttered.

He pulled away and tugged his T-shirt out of his jeans and then rolled it up over his head. He had two sleeves from the wrists up. Matching designs that curled over his shoulders and licked toward his neck.

There wasn’t an actual image—an identifiable picture—but a series of intricate lines and shapes. It looked exotic but still unfamiliar.

“How did you come up with this?” she asked as she traced over his shoulder until her finger came to rest in the hollow of his throat.

“Callie and I went to India and Nepal one summer. We saw some amazing art and tattoos. Callie took pictures and when we got back, we took the photos to an artist in Denver who incorporated the designs into a larger one that was reflective of all the places we’d been.”

“That’s amazing. And what an awesome experience. That must have been so fun.”

“Callie’s our free spirit. She’s traveled a lot. Sucks when she’s gone so much, but she’s been to some awesome places.”

Again Lily traced the colorful patterns with the tips of her fingers, but this time she allowed her hands to wander over his broad chest.

The muscles tightened and bunched under her palms, and his eyes narrowed to slits. He reached up and caught both her hands, holding them at the wrists, still over his chest.

“I have a better idea,” he murmured. “I vote we ditch the bike ride and I take you into my bedroom and let you explore my tats all you want while I’m inside you.”