In Too Deep (9 page)

Chapter 16

I pull into the motel, letting the car roll to a stop so I don’t wake Taylor. No luck. Her eyes blink open, and she looks up at me. I don’t think she
’d realized when she drifted off to sleep that her head was resting in my lap. I hadn’t minded at all.

“Sorry.” She sits up and looks around out the windows.

We’re parked beside a cheap one-story motel. The sounds from the highway hum nearby.

“This okay with you?”

She does
n’t speak, but manages a nod.

It’s nothing like the luxury hotel we stayed in last night, but after what happened there, that’s fine with me.

“Wait here.” I get out of the car, locking the doors behind me, and head into the motel’s office, leaving Taylor safely inside the car.

I
return a minute later, dangling a room key from my little finger. I open Taylor’s car door, and help her out, using extra care around her ribs. With the way she’s moving, I can tell they’re already bruised from Lars’ kick.

“Can you stand here for a second?”

She nods.

I
retrieve our bags from the backseat, slinging them over one shoulder, then help Taylor walk, placing one arm around her waist. I lead her to the door of our room, only a few paces away from the car.

When the door swings open, I notice instantly there is only one bed.
But Taylor’s breath catches, and the fact that she’s in pain reminds me we have more pressing issues. I’ll deal with the sleeping arrangements later.

I
sit her down on the edge of the bed. Once she’s sitting, I toss our bags on the chair beside the door, then I kneel on the floor in front of her. She watches me untie her shoes laces. I slip her shoes off one at a time, then peel off her socks. She peers down at me with those big blue eyes, her chest still heaving.

I wanted to punish that bastard the second his eyes fell on her. And after he kicked her, I wanted to destroy him, but I couldn’t hang around. I’d had to get her out of there.
Out of danger. 

Her feet dangle from the edge of the bed, and her toes are painted pink.

“Let me see,” I say softly.

She
nods her approval.

I gingerly lift her
shirt, and hesitate. “Do you mind?”

She shakes her
head.

I pull the shirt over her head,
leaving her sitting there in just a lacy pink bra, which I desperately try not to stare at. I trace my fingertips along her side, pressing slightly at the ribs that are already showing signs of bruising.

At my touch, s
he winces and grips the comforter in her fists.

“Here?”
I ask, tracing the spot again, more carefully this time.

She
nods.

I don’t al
low myself to look at her the way I want to drink her in. But I still notice more than I should. Her skin is incredibly soft, she has three tiny freckles dotting her left shoulder and her belly button is the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen. I refocus on her as though she is a patient. Nothing more. “Doesn’t feel like anything’s cracked. You’re not having trouble breathing, are you?”

She
tries a deep breath, her chest raising and falling in the most delicious way. “Seems okay.”

“Your ribs are bruised, but not broken. You’ll be sore for a few days, but you should heal fine.”
I continue caressing her sides and stomach, until well after I’m satisfied there’s no real damage. Then I get up and toss her shirt on the bed beside her. “I’ll run you a warm bath. That should help relax your muscles.”

“Colt.”
She grabs my hand and squeezes, hard, stopping me in my tracks. “Thank you.”

I nod
once, then head into the bathroom.

I need
the escape, and the safety of another room – with a locking door – to keep me away from her. It’s my fault she’s sitting out there on that bed in this cheap motel room, beaten and bruised and completely shaken up. What the fuck had I been thinking? What had McAllister been thinking? She wasn’t ready for this. I’d be surprised if she didn’t call her parents and get herself sent home the moment we got back.

I turn
on the faucet in the bathtub, not wanting Taylor to wonder what I’m doing when she doesn’t hear the water running. Once the water’s warmed and filling the tub, I lean against the sink and splash cool water on my face, needing to get a hold of myself.

Chapter 17

Once Colt’s in the bathroom,
I stand in front of the mirror. I look pale and stunned. My eyes are wide with shock. I take stock of my injuries, looking over my body in the mirror. My head hurts. My ribs are tender where Lars slammed into me, but mostly I’m shaken up. The sound of water running distracts me and I follow Colt into the bathroom.

Despite the rundown motel, the bathroom is clean
and spacious with gleaming white tiles. Colt’s filled the tub and even used one of the little bottles of body wash to make bubbles. Heat vapors drift lazily from the steaming water and the scent of mint and lilac invite me forward.

I lean against the counter,
watching Colt. I remember the way he jumped into action, his quick thinking, the way he tried to throw Lars off by acting like we were a couple locked out of our room, then saving me from the path of Lars’ hits. He doesn’t appear injured at all, no bruising, no blood. His hair is tousled as ever. He still looks gorgeous and in complete control, despite having just been in a fight.

He
shuts off the water of the now filled tub and leans causally against the tiled wall, a slow, lazy smile on his lips as he inspects me. With the water turned off, it’s quiet and our breathing now seems amplified in the small space.

I look down at my fingers, suddenly self-conscious in
just my bra, jeans and bare feet.

Colt comes up behind me, running his fingers softly along my injured side
again. My breath catches, but I’m not sure if it’s from the ache I feel in my side or the tenderness in his touch. Our eyes meet in the mirror. His look is caring, worried. It’s a look I haven’t seen on him before.

I
turn and face him, and hazel eyes sear into mine.

“I’m sorry
about what happened back there. I should have never let him get that close to you.”

I shake my head. “No. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have left t
he port open so he could track us. I know better than that.”

He places a finger over my lips. “This was not your fault. It was your first field assignment. McAllister was wrong to send you out here so early.”

I swallow. His finger is still resting on my lips. He lets it fall away, almost reluctantly, but he doesn’t step back. Our bodies are separated by just inches.

Colt’s attention and my lack of a shirt
has me flushed.

“Are you okay?” his voice is rough, yet gentle.

I nod, still looking up into his eyes. He towers above me, making me feel safe and secure in his presence. I don’t think, I lean into him, pressing my head against his chest. He hesitates for a second before wrapping his arms around me, pulling me against him. I breathe into his chest, letting his masculine scent and strength comfort me.

Something about the warmth of the bathroom, his strong arms around me,
his body pressed against mine shuts down the rational part of my brain and I’m left with a strange warmth tingling inside my body. I let my hands wander to his back, over the muscles of his solid shoulders and grab onto his shirt, clutching it in my fists. I fight off the tears that threaten to spill over again and just let Colt hold me.

Colt
responds to my touch by pulling me even closer. I bury my head under his chin and allow myself to be comforted by his gentle concern. I let all the emotion and drama of the day fade away as we stand together in the steamy bathroom.

Colt
leans back so he can look at me. He brings a hand up to cup my jaw, and his fingers work their way under my hair. My eyes fall closed at his touch. The pad of his thumb traces across my bottom lip and a little sound escapes the back of my throat as my lips part for him, ready and eager. Colt stiffens at the sound, studying me with confusion all over his face. He blinks down at me several times, the electricity humming between us. His eyes move down to look at my mouth. Colt wants to kiss me. My heart pounds in anticipation. But he doesn’t lean forward. He doesn’t press his lips to mine. He stands still, gazing down at me with wonder.

Suddenly he lifts
me by my hips, and sets me on the counter in front of him, making us the same height. With his hand on my jaw again, he lifts my chin up to meet his mouth. He brushes his lips softly against mine, almost like he’s testing me, waiting to see what I’ll do. I feel his urgency, the raw need between us, and I kiss him back. The second I respond, softly opening my mouth against his, the kiss builds.

His kiss i
s intoxicating,
knowing
and I melt into him. I feel his tongue swirl with mine and let out a ragged moan, balling his shirt in my hands to pull him even closer.

Colt stops and pulls
back, confusion all over his face. “I’m sorry.” He steps away. I can tell he regrets kissing me. Tears blur my vision.

He
leaves and closes the door firmly behind him.

His departure leaves me reeling and weakened.
I slide off the counter, and all the way down onto the floor. Warm tears stream down my cheeks as I process that Colt Palmer just kissed me.

***

I take my time in the bath, soaking away the stress and worry of the last several hours, including both the run in with Lars and my unexpected response to Colt’s kiss, who I’ve told myself time and again I should not like. Even though he’s bad for me, I can’t seem to control how I feel.

I go through the motions of shampooing and conditioning my hair,
then lather the washcloth with the body wash that Colt has lined up on the edge of the bathtub. After today’s encounters…Lars…Colt…I struggle to organize my thoughts and feelings into compartments that make sense. The image of Colt lifting me by my hips and kissing me passionately was not something I would soon forget. I lean my head back against the edge of the bathtub and close my eyes.

Once I’m
through with the bath, I comb out my wet hair, and find that Colt has somehow slipped my backpack just inside the door without me noticing.
Great
. Had that happened when I was crying on the bathroom floor? Or when I was naked in the tub? I dress quickly in my yoga pants and a long sleeved tee.

I
leave the bathroom, my head ducked down. Colt is stretched out on one half of the bed, remote control in hand. He’s fallen asleep. I tiptoe around him and set my backpack down on the floor. But in my effort to maneuver around the bed, I stub my toe on the edge of the side table.

Damn it
. I hop around on one foot, swearing under my breath.

“You okay?” Colt says,
launching to his feet.

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth.

He makes a move to come and help me, but I hold up my hand, stopping him. “I’m good.” The last thing I need is him touching me again.

“Okay.” He takes a seat in the chair by the door, wisely giving me some space. “I ordered some Chinese food.
That alright with you?”

“Sure.
Sounds good.” My stomach rumbles at the mention of food, reminding me it’s been hours since breakfast.

A few minutes later,
there’s a knock at the door. Our food’s here. Thank God for the distraction.

Colt arranges the cartons of egg rolls,
fried rice, sweet and sour chicken, and chow mein noodles in the center of the table. He cracks open a can of Coke and slides it toward me. “I know you like diet. But this has sugar. Drink it. It’ll make you feel better.”

He hands me a pair of chopsticks.

I fumble with them, looking down.

“Did the bath help?” he asks,
glancing up at me through his eyelashes.

I nod. “It did. Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He smiles.

I’m relieved to see that things feel back to normal between us, the kiss already forgotten, which is both a relief, and sort of insulting.

He slides the container of fried rice toward me. “Eat. And stop thinking. Field assignments aren’t always like
that. I know this seems crazy right now, but it won’t always. And getting some food in your system will help.”

I nod. The food does smell good. I try a bite of rice, wishing I had a fork. I manage to get some
of it in my mouth, but most of the rice lands on the table in front of me.

Colt’s eyes follow my movements, and after
another failed attempt with the chopsticks, he leans in toward me, taking my chopsticks. He loads them with rice and lifts the bite to my mouth. I hesitate for a second, then open it and let him feed me. “Good girl.”

I chew the rice and make myself swallow.
He turns the chopsticks over to me, pushing the rice container closer. It’s nice to know that he cares enough to make sure I’m well fed. I can’t allow myself to mistake his concern for something it’s not though. I’ve seen his track record with girls. I have no plans to get on that list.

“Eat, Taylor
,” he says, noticing I’m lost in my own thoughts again and thrusts the container of sweet and sour chicken toward me. “A few more bites.” He picks up the chopsticks I’ve distractedly set down and hands them to me again.

When it
comes time for bed, without a word, Colt makes a pile of blankets on the floor for himself. This place isn’t exactly topping the cleanliness charts, the carpet looks sort of cruddy, but I keep my mouth shut, it’s not like I’m about to suggest that we share the bed. I’m not that stupid.