“Damn straight.”
“That’s not always a good thing. Sometimes you make life more complicated than it needs to be.”
“Never said I was going to be easy.”
“I know,” she says as her smile fades. “I never said I was going to be easy, either. In fact, I promised the opposite.”
“I like you just the way you are.”
My fingers tease the end of her sweater again, but this time Echo doesn’t stop me as I edge the material off her arm. In fact, she leans forward so I can slip the entire sweater off and toss it to the floor where it belongs.
I skim the length of her arm, specifically the longest scar from top to bottom. “Why, Echo?”
“Why what?”
“Why hide them again?”
She’s silent, and we won’t leave this bed until she answers.
It’s hard to imagine her lying in a pool of her own blood. It drives me crazy that I almost lost her before I had the chance to meet her. I’m schooled in loss and understand its permanence.
Just the thought of losing Echo creates an anger bordering on fear. It’s a dangerous combination, and I hate her mother for causing such suffering and pain.
Echo’s breathing hitches when I slide my thumb along a smaller scar. She likes that spot. I’ve memorized it. A centimeter below the crook of her elbow. Her skin is sensitive there, and when I kiss it, Echo normally falls apart and nearly shatters.
I gently press my lips behind her ear, and Echo nudges closer to me. “Why, Echo?”
“Because.”
I nip at her earlobe, and she shivers. “Because why?”
Her shoulder moves under my body. A half shrug maybe. “It makes me feel better.”
Fuck that. “Why?”
A kiss on her neck. A long one. A lingering one. God damn, Echo tastes so good. Her skin is soft and tempting. But I want answers.
“Because sometimes I want to blend in.”
I raise my head and stare straight into her eyes, spotting the plain honesty. What she doesn’t understand is that she could never blend in. Blazing red hair. Bright emerald eyes. The most beautiful girl in the world. She’d turn heads regardless of a sweater.
As I open my mouth to respond, my phone rings.
Echo
Noah drops his forehead to my shoulder and groans. Good God, I completely understand. My body pulsates like a five-alarm fire. I kiss his collarbone and rub my hand along his spine, in regret...in apology. His phone rings a third time. “You should answer.”
“Fuck.” He presses his lips against my neck before drawing away and yanking his phone out of his back pocket. “Yeah.”
Noah’s eyes meet mine, and I tilt my head in question. I exhale when he subtly shakes a no, telling me the call is benign.
“Yeah,” he says again then flashes a smile promising lots of naughtiness. “I understand.”
Noah cups my waist and swipes his finger underneath the material of my shirt. My mouth pops open. No way. There is no way he means to explore while he’s on the phone. His hand begins to travel for my bra. Holy freaking crap. I bat at his arm and mouth. “No.”
“Why?” he mouths back, but his grin grows.
“Because,” I yell-whisper.
Noah lowers his arm away from my bra and instead snakes it around my waist, gathering me to his side. He nuzzles my hair before saying into his cell, “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Thanks.”
He ends the call and slides his phone back into his jeans. “Tell me I’m forgiven.”
“Who was that?” I ask.
In lightning-fast movements, Noah rolls us both, and his heavy weight pins me against the mattress. “Say I’m forgiven.”
“For what?” My brain goes blank. Noah’s on top of me, and subconsciously my legs hook around his. Through his jeans and my jean shorts there are parts of him that are sweetly touching parts of me.
We haven’t made love yet. I think of it. I dream of it. Sometimes I wake up so on edge that I worry I’ll explode, but when it comes to it, I haven’t found the courage to cross the line. And Noah’s always patient...so patient. Even when he has to resort to cold showers or really, really long hot ones.
I don’t ask what he’s doing in there, but I kinda can guess, and that only makes me feel epically worse.
“For upsetting you this morning,” he answers. “Tell me I’m forgiven.”
I nod because I love him, and I can’t imagine not forgiving him. “Just don’t do it again.”
Noah rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes as if I handed him a death row pardon. “I love you, Echo.”
The pterodactyls that only he can create lift their wings and soar in my stomach. I love those words out his mouth. Almost as much as I love his hands on my body and the way his eyes devour me. Almost as much as I love him.
He kisses my lips and before I can repeat the same to him, he’s off the bed. “I’ve got to roll. The last Malt and Burger jacked up my hours in the system, and they want me to go into a local one and fix it.”