Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits, #1.5)(60)

Death radiates from the look I send her way. Enough that it should melt her. “Ever sleep in a tent, Beth?”

Beth focuses on the screen while raising her middle finger in my direction.

“Screw it.” Echo turns away from the mirror. “I need a shower.”

I smile, Echo blushes, then I laugh. Damn me for inviting Isaiah and Beth to share our room.

“Anyhow.” An excited glint strikes Echo’s eyes. “Are you ready? I hope you like it. It’s sort of...for you. But it’s not done, okay? I mean, something like this would actually take a while to perfect, so I guess I’m saying—”

“Echo.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s all good.”

“Okay.” Her fingers drum nervously over the top of the canvas before she repeats, “Okay.”

“I’m assuming that’s not the constellation Aires?”

“No. I’ll have to start on that tomorrow.” With a deep inhale, Echo pulls out a chair from the table and rests the painting on the arms and leans it against the back so it will stay upright.

Air rushes out of my body, and I sink onto our bed. It’s the same damned shock as when she drew my parents this past spring. There’s awe and joy and this ache that hits deep in my gut. I bend forward and rest my joint hands on my knees and stare at the sight in front of me.

Fuck me, my eyes burn. I shut them, attempting to get my shit together. It’s a painting. Only a painting. I reopen them, and it’s the same disorientation as a right hook to the head. It’s more than a painting, and that’s the reason my throat swells.

Last night meant as much to me as it did to her and she painted it, capturing it in a way unique to Echo. She’s right, it’s not done. It’s a skeleton compared to her other work, but I see enough to know what she desires, what she plans to design. Up close all those colors would look like chaos, but when viewed as a whole it creates this beautiful picture. In the end, that’s the best way to describe me and Echo, our relationship. Our love.

The bed dips as Echo eases onto it, settles behind me and props her chin on my shoulder. Her signature scent that reminds me of walking into a bakery becomes an invisible blanket surrounding me. “What do you think?”

“It’s us,” I whisper, and knots form in my stomach. Echo always finds a way to blow my mind. She tenses behind me and I continue, “It’s where we spent last night.”

“It is.” Echo relaxes, and her fingers curl around my biceps. “Do you like it?”

Struggling for composure, I place my hand over hers and pause. “It’s...”

I’m not Echo. I don’t have words for what happens inside me. If I did, I’d fail at describing this. I shift to rest my forehead against hers. “I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s my statement,” she says so only I can hear. “I wish we were alone again.”

I press my lips to hers, slide my hand through her hair and watch as the curls bounce back into place. “Me, too.”

If we were alone, I’d take it slow, worshipping every inch of her body. I’d work like hell for it to be her night—the night she enjoys the actual act of making love. And if it didn’t happen tonight, then I’d dedicate every night to that single pursuit.

Echo edges closer, and our lips move slowly as we both try to fight the build. There’s other people in the room. Other people.

Isaiah clears his throat. “Let’s take a walk, Beth.”

“Walks are overrated.” Odds are the Yankees are winning, and Beth’s oblivious to the world, meaning she’s in the dark about the heat radiating from Echo and me.

Echo’s hand drifts from my arm, applies pressure to my chest and places a few inches between us. She lets out a long gush of air. I understand her frustration. My body is wound tight.

“I’m going to take a shower.” Echo slips off the bed. After she’s done, I’ll probably take a long, cold one.

Echo gathers her actual pj’s, not her tank and underwear, and I glance at the clock. It’s late, and if Echo painted that much she didn’t eat lunch or dinner. I may not be able to spend the rest of the night bringing to life my fantasies, but I can do the small things that cause her to smile.

I grab her keys off the dresser. “Chicken sandwich or Chinese?”

“I’ll make a ham sandwich.”

“Nonnegotiable. You choose or I will.”

Echo kisses my cheek, and the caress burns past my skin and into my blood. “Chinese.”

She disappears behind the bathroom door, and my eyes catch Echo’s laptop. There’s a reason why I dragged Echo to Vail and it’s time I man up and face my mother’s past.





Echo

There’s something intimate about emerging from the bathroom fresh from a shower and in the clothes I intend to sleep in for the night so I can crawl into bed with someone. With Noah, I’ve actually reveled in that moment of entering the room. Especially when I’ve worn way less than this. His already deep brown eyes will darken, and a shadow of lust will cross his face.

After my scars, I thought no one would want or love me again. Noah’s proved me wrong.

With that being said, I brushed my hair five times in my attempt to build the courage to walk out the bathroom door. With Beth and Isaiah waiting on the other side, I find myself as nervous as the first night Noah and I spent alone.