Crash into You (Pushing the Limits, #3)(88)

I’m reaching into the laundry basket next to the bed for a T-shirt when delicate fingers touch my wrist. “Can I look at your tattoos?”

My mouth dries out when I meet her eyes. There’s no seduction there, but honest curiosity. My heart beats faster when I nod and join her on the bed. Rachel traces the dragon. Playing with fire again, her tickling caress strikes a match and creates a slow burn.

“Did it hurt?” she asks. “The tattoos?”

“Some areas more than others.”

“What was it like?”

As her fingernails slide down my arm to the knot tattooed on my forearm, shivers run through my blood. “Like someone with sharp nails scratching a sunburn.”

“Why do you do it?”

It’s a simple question, but a complex answer. “So I’ll always remember.”

Rachel traces the twists and turns of the Brothers of Arrow Knot, granting me silence. It’s my decision whether or not to continue the conversation. My angel does this—she opens the door and allows me the freedom to decide whether or not I want to step through. It’s strange, my entire life I’ve had doors closed on me and now that one’s open, I’m not sure how to enter.

I suck in air, guessing one way is headfirst. “That one’s for Noah.”

Rachel’s eyes flash to mine, and I take comfort in the happiness I created there.

“It’s a Celtic knot—it means warriors bonded as brothers through battle.”

The right side of her mouth tips. “Does that mean you and Noah have been on the same side of several fistfights?”

I chuckle, remembering a few we probably shouldn’t have taken on. “Yeah. But it’s more than that. Noah accepts people as they are. Doesn’t ask. Doesn’t judge. He’s family.”

Though lately he’s been inching away by following his dreams. Someday, he’ll graduate from college, get a real job and marry Echo. Then they’ll be a family without me.

Rachel moves to kneel in front of me. Everything about her is softness and curves. Too innocent. Too beautiful. She admires her favorite tattoo—the tiger.

I sweep the bangs from her eyes. “I used to be weak when I was younger. The smallest kid in the class and the group home. I kept waiting for someone to save me.” Like how that old tiger must have waited for someone to release him from his cage. “One day I decided to save myself, and I stopped being weak.”

She touches the tiger. “So you got the tattoo.”

I shrug. Such honesty makes me uncomfortable. “Earrings first. Then I started hanging out with the type of people most avoided. Got in fights just to prove I’d never run. Then, when I scraped up enough money, I got the tattoo.”

Rachel withdraws her hand and prepares for the other question Abby warned would be coming. “Do you do drugs?”

“I have.” I won’t lie. Not to her. “I do drink. But I don’t like the feeling of being high or being drunk. Losing control isn’t my style. I make people believe I do drugs. It’s better if people are scared of me.”

“Why?”

I jerk my chin toward the window. “Life is different out there. I’ve survived because of what I make people think. No one messes with me, and that same reputation has kept you safe because no one would mess with anything that’s mine.”

She wipes at her forehead, but her bangs were already swept to the side. “Eric messed with me.”

“Because he knows we’re close to paying him off. He wanted to push my buttons and I fell for it. He wants us to fail. Eric wants more than money. He wants power, and it would be a strong message to a lot of people if he held power over me.”

Rachel picks at the lint on the blanket with her eyes cast down. My iron wall, the one she expertly maneuvered around, becomes cold underneath my skin. I’ve bared my soul and she has to be second-guessing being with me.

“This is who I am, Rachel. Accept it or not. The tattoos won’t wash off. The earrings will never change. I am who I am and nothing more. I’m loyal to a chosen few, I always keep my word and I’ll protect you with my life.

“I scare the hell out of most people, but you will never have anything to fear from me. Choose. Love me or don’t. But tell me now.” Because I can’t leave my heart open for her to rip out later. If I belong to her, then I do, and nothing will stand in our way.

She sits up on her knees and inches closer to me. Giving me my answer, she lets her warm, smooth fingers caress my cheek. “What’s the dragon for?”

I tunnel my hand through her hair, enjoying the silky rain, and I take a deep breath. She’s chosen me. Rachel’s decided to love me beyond the sharp edges. I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve her. “The dragon’s for the only good foster father I had. He’s the one who taught me everything about cars. He used to call me a dragon.”

Her forehead furrows. “Why?”

I smirk and the memory lightens my mood. “Because he said I was either breathing fire and destroying everything or I took the fire inside of me and created life.”

“Created life?”

“Fire can destroy, but it can also create—provide warmth, protection.” I still remember him explaining when I asked the same question. “He told me until I chose my path, I would always be capable of life and destruction.”