In Too Deep

Chapter 42

I can’t believe this is where Colt grew up. His house is a mansion. Literally. He pulls into a long driveway, the house not yet completely in view from the well-manicured landscaping. The driveway is brick and he continues past the front of the house and the rather impressive circular drive with a fountain in the center, and parks behind the house in front of a four stall garage. I’m still in shock when he exits the car and strolls around to help me out.

The house looms in front of us, broad, two stories, Cape Cod style with pale blue clapboard siding, slate stonework and white shutters. It’s beautiful.

He leads me through the back door into a mud room with rows of pale wood lockers and various baskets and benches for storage. It looks like a home organization catalog.

He gives me a tour of the first floor while I struggle to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. Large living room, office, family room, formal dining room, a sitting room that he calls a parlor and rolls his eyes, a library and a foyer that could hold half my parents’ house, before finally leading me into the kitchen.

There’s a rustic wood island in the center with six stools. The rest is shiny stainless steel, marble countertops and rich wood. It’s extremely spacious.

“Have a seat.” He motions toward the stools at the island.

I comply, sitting on a stool.

The island is decorated with various bowls and baskets of fruit, whole heads of garlic and fresh baguettes in various sizes.

He grabs a Diet Coke from the fridge and sets it in front of me. I wrap my hands around the coolness of the can, needing to grasp onto something normal in this museum of a house.

“What are you hungry for?” he asks, surveying the fridge.

“Oh, anything is fine.”

“I told Mrs. Lee I’d make you pasta.”

“That sounds great.”

Colt sets off to work, pulling various ingredients from the fridge and cabinets, a cute look of concentration on his face. He dices tomatoes, simmers cream sauce and boils pasta.

After asking to help about six times, I relax into my seat and enjoy watching him cook. He gives me little jobs, like tasting the sauce from the tip of a spoon, then smiles at me when I approve.

“So your dad’s away on business?”

He nods tightly. Okay…so he doesn’t want to talk about his dad.

I stroll over to the built in cabinets on the far end of the kitchen. There’s a photo of Colt and someone who looks like a younger version of Colt. “Who’s this?” I hold up the photo.

He glances my way. “My brother Reis.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

He nods. “He’s your age actually, a junior in high school. He goes to a private school in California though.”

Interesting. I set the photo down, appreciating the exquisite beauty of the Palmer brothers. Reis is a fraction shorter than Colt, but his face is softer, missing the hardened edge that Colt’s has. It’s nice.

The meal is amazing and after dinner, I offer to wash the dishes, but he says we can leave them in the sink and Mrs. Lee will be back in the morning.

Hmm. A whole night ahead of us. Alone. With Colt. And the no physical contact rule. Crap.

After dinner he gives me a list of options for what we can do. Movie theatre (they have one in the house!) swimming pool, hot tub, billiards or card games.

“What would you like to do?” he asks, prompting me to decide.

“I think I’d like to see your bedroom.”

His eyebrows lift in surprise at my boldness, then he leads me up the winding staircase without a word. We pass by several doors to well-appointed bedrooms and bathrooms until we reach the end of the hall. He pushes open the door.

His room is large, and spotlessly clean – thanks to Mrs. Lee, I presume. The walls are dark blue, as is the thick carpeting, and the furniture is all matching pale wood.

There’s a guitar and an amp in the corner, and a couple of lounge chairs in front of a large TV with a video game console.

I can’t really picture a younger Colt hanging out here playing games with his friends. I can’t imagine him carefree and relaxed letting off steam like a normal teenage boy. It’s much easier to imagine Colt fighting shirtless in a barn, practicing martial arts and going toe to toe with McAllister. I flush at the thought. Colt plus testosterone does funny things to me.

I realize I’m being quiet and Colt’s standing beside me, watching me.

“There isn’t much to see up here,” he says like he wants to leave, like he wants me to choose one of the pre-approved activities he suggested earlier. I wonder why.

I wander over to his TV and pick up one of the video games. “We could play…” I smile.

“I suck,” he admits, coming closer. “You’d probably kick my ass. Reis always does.” He takes the game and sets it down again.

I make myself comfortable on one of the big arm chairs. After a second, he does the same, sitting down next to me.

“I haven’t been here for a while.” He looks around. “I haven’t been home much in the last three years since I started at Wilbrook.”

It’s surprising because the school’s only an hour from his house. “How come?”

“I guess I just don’t really like being here.”

“Oh. Well we can go. If you want to go do something else, I mean.”

“No. I like being here with you.” He glances over at me. “I’ve never had a girl in my room.”

Whoa. That’s a shock. “Never?”

“Nope. This is a first for me.” He reaches over, taking my hand.

I summon up my courage. “So why am I here, Colt?”

He meets my eyes. “Because I like you, Taylor.” He squeezes my hand.

“Are you going to stay at Wilbrook?” He releases my hand. “It would be extremely dull without you and Pennsylvania is really far away.” He frowns.

I shake my head, not ready to answer his question yet. I need some answers of my own first. “Oh, I’m sure once I left, there’d be a steady stream of girls lining up to step in and take my place.”

He face gets serious. “No one could take your place.”

Oh wow. He is so hot right now. Breathe Taylor.

“Come here.” I pull him up from the chair and lead him to the bed.

Colt sits down next to me, our legs nearly touching. Apparently he’s taking the contact rule seriously. He’s beyond frustrating.

“Do you enjoy torturing me, Mr. Palmer?”

A smile creeps onto his lips, making them curl deliciously into a grin just millimeters from mine. “Not particularly.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“I promised you I wouldn’t touch you again unless you asked me to.”

Good Lord, he wants a formal invitation? He’s torturing me. Well two can play at this game. And I plan to win.

I stand up from the bed, and turn away from him. “Okay, I’ll send you an Evite later from my computer.”

He narrows his eyes, then lunges for me, locking me in his arms. “Get over here you evil little thing.”

He holds me tightly against him, pulling me onto the bed. He looks down into my eyes. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers near my ear, breathing against my hair.

“You.” My body trembles and I cling to his biceps for support, melting at the heat between us.

“Tell me,” he coaxes.

How can I tell him? What can I say when I’d promised myself that the next time I gave away my heart, and all the rest of me that it’d be for love. I’m not sure how I feel exactly, but I know I’m falling for him.

He tilts my chin up, forcing my mouth flush with his. “Taylor?” he whispers against my lips.

“Kiss me,” I command.

He processes my request, grinning ever so slightly, then buries one hand in my hair, gripping the back of my neck to pull me in closer. He takes my mouth with his. The kiss is better than I remember. I relax into him, letting him answer all my fears the way he knows best.

He deepens the kiss, moving his tongue against mine and I happily obey, tasting, teasing along with his expert mouth.

Colt caresses my jaw, moving slowly, deliberately, being the gentleman he’s promised, until I inadvertently let out a little gasp. Then he responds like a match struck, a low growl rumbling through his chest while he pulls me up onto his lap. Whoa.

We continue kissing, me in his lap and I run my hands through his hair. He grips my waist, pressing me into his lap.

Colt’s kisses do insane things to my body. My heart is pounding and I’m flushed all over. In the chaos of this moment, suddenly I’m stuck by a thought. He’s too good at all this. The way his hands cup my behind, his thumbs kneading into my lower back, then slipping just under the waist band of my jeans. His experience at all this is evident. And suddenly I feel inadequate. But then Colt groans against my neck as he trails damp kisses across my throat and a fullness swells inside me knowing I have the same effect on him.

Several minutes later, we’re both out of breath, our cheeks flushed and our lips swollen. I lose myself in Colt, all common sense, all self-preservation flying out the window.

Colt pulls back from kissing me cradling my face in his hands. “You. Are. Driving. Me. Insane.” He groans, a deep animalistic sound in the back of his throat. Holy crap. It’s incredibly sexy and makes me feel powerful, desirable.

“I’m sorry.” I look down, unsure what to say next. I watch him while my heart slows, wondering where this could possibly be heading. My mind flashes a neon sign that says Heartbreak City. I ignore it.

“It’s okay,” he says. “There’s no rush.” He smiles lightly at me and his reassurance is all the encouragement I need.