Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits 1.50)

Echo gasps for air, and my mouth brushes down her cheek to her neck—nipping, kissing, devouring. She tilts her neck to the side, granting me access, inviting me to explore more...explore lower.

“Noah,” she says in the way I’ve dreamed of since the night I backed her against a wall outside of Mike Blair’s house in January. My name falling from her lips has been a major part of every erotic dream.

She glances up at me from below her eyelashes, and my world stalls into slow motion. There’s a depth in her eyes that’s never been there before—a slow sexiness, an expectation. With the shower angled at her body, running down her beautiful curves, steam rising into the air, Echo’s red hair reshapes into ringlets.

I slide my hands down her arms until I link our fingers together. “I need you to be sure.”

Her chest moves as she inhales deeply. A bit of the tentativeness I’m used to with Echo returns as her fingers tighten around mine. “I think I am.”

I want her. More than I’ve ever desired anyone. Need is a damn pulse in my body, and I can barely breathe with trying to keep myself under control. Image after image of taking Echo, right here, right now, becomes a virus in my mind. “Not think, Echo. You’ve got to know.”

Echo places a hand on my chest and nudges me back. I’m cautious, watching her stare at my stomach. She’s thinking, weighing, and I need to give her space. A rush of air escapes her lips, her arms fall to her sides, and my damn little siren switches her focus and looks down.

My lips edge up as her eyes widen. “No,” she whispers.

“No what?”

“There is no freaking way that will fit.”

Echo

The smugness radiating from Noah is nauseating. He wears this infuriating grin that encourages me to smack him upside the head, but the guilt from throwing his clothes into the pool prevents me from tackling him.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he lays out his clothes on the floor, on the table and over the chairs. Basically anywhere there’s an open spot. The cross tattooed on his biceps stretches as he hooks a hanger holding his dress shirt onto the heater vent near the ceiling.

I saw Noah tonight...all of him, and he was gorgeous. I mean, I knew what to expect as I’m not a nun. We have biology books at school, and I’ve had sex ed, but it was different, standing there, seeing him...and then I went and said the most epically tragic thing ever: There is no freaking way that will fit.

Sitting on the bed in a tank top and pair of boy shorts, I press my hands over my blazing cheeks. Saying that was like handing a match and a can of gasoline to a pyromaniac. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

Noah chuckles. “Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t. I meant that...you know...there’s a limited space and you just appeared...and it’s not what I meant.” Stop digging the hole. It’s already too deep for daylight.

Will this ever cease being so uncomfortably weird and agonizing and strangely glorious? I like the glorious part. The rush of discovering something new, but I wish I could leave uncomfortable and agonizing behind.

Noah glances at me from over his shoulder. “So you saying I’m not abnormally large?”

“Yes.” That sounded bad. “No.” Somehow that sounded worse. “I’m sure you’re normal.”

The stubble on his face moves as he smiles. Noah places his hand near the knot on the towel hanging at his waist. “Would you like to have another look?”

My mouth goes dry, and I fumble with my hair pick before combing it through my curls. I’m doing my best for casual though casual seems impossible. I saw Noah tonight. “No, I think I’m good.”

“Regret skipping the conditioner?” Noah asks.

Yep. “I didn’t need it. Using too much can cause buildup.”

Not true at all. There are certain things needed to survive in life: water, food, conditioner. For the millionth time, the pick catches on a tangle, and I consider scissors. Lots of girls cut their hair short before college. Why shouldn’t I be one of them?

“Could have stayed in longer,” Noah says. “The hot water didn’t run out as fast as you thought it would.”

“Well...you know...it had been running for a while, and what type of guests would we be if we drained the water tank?”

“Uh-huh.” The bed dips as Noah sits beside me, and I don’t miss how the towel slides up his leg. Oh, God, I’m obsessed now.

“So you bolting had nothing to do with me being naked?” he asks in this I-know-everything tone, and I sort of want to wipe that smirk off his face. As I peek at him, I realize I could kiss it off.

I think of the shower and his wet body and the comforter on the bed becomes suddenly fascinating. “Not at all.”