Pushing the Limits (Pushing the Limits, #1)(61)

I ignored the comments they made regarding my manhood in their attempt to draw me back into the game. Echo’s hand flew rapidly over the paper, her eyes darting after it. I ran my fingers through her curls, gently pulling them straight, just for them to bounce back.

She was a genius. She drew Antonio and Maria, locked in an embrace. The picture on the paper looked like it could come to life. How could she accomplish something like that in such a short period of time?

Beth sat at the table and began to roll a joint. I wanted Echo out of here, immediately. “I haven’t shown you where Isaiah and I live yet.”

“Hold on a sec. I want to get this shading right.” Echo was lost in her world and oblivious to me. Hell, Beth had never rolled a J that fast before. She placed it in her mouth and lit it. The familiar smell drifted into the room, catching everyone’s attention, including Echo’s.

Echo watched as Beth inhaled and held her breath. Since living here, I’d never refused a hit, but there was no way I was going to do this in front of Echo. Beth released the smoke. Her lips twisted up as she held the joint out to Echo. “Want some?”

Everyone in the room watched and waited patiently for their turn, thus putting Echo on the spot. Her foot tapped against the floor and she laid the sketch pad on the table, shoving it toward Antonio. “No, thanks.” Her eyes shot sharply to me. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Nice, exactly what I hoped to avoid. I held my hand out to her. “Come on.”





Echo

I claimed Noah’s hand, giving Beth a wink as I let him lead me away. Being nice to Beth had gotten me nowhere and for once, it felt good to be nasty. The scowl on her face was worth whatever cosmic payback I’d get later.

Noah opened the basement door and motioned for me to head down first. The temperature dropped at least twenty degrees the moment my feet hit the concrete floor. A box spring and mattress lay against the corner of the wall. An old plaid couch faced the bed and a television sat on the wall between them. Jeans and T-shirts were folded in two laundry baskets.

The door shut behind us and the wooden steps groaned with Noah’s heavy footfalls. I shoved my hands in my pockets and surveyed the ceiling. My neck twinged with the image of the hundreds of tiny spiders waiting to assault me.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“It’s … ah … cozy.” I’m sure the spiders loved it. Along with those strange bugs that curled into a ball when you touched them.

Noah swept my hair behind my shoulder and placed a delicious kiss on the nape of my neck. “Liar,” he whispered in my ear.

Ugh—moral choice: couch or bed, couch or bed? The decision was taken out of my hands as Noah hooked a finger on my back belt loop and tugged me, backward, toward the bed. His arms snaked around my waist and pulled me down alongside him.

Noah propped himself up on his elbow, his wicked grin in place. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to see you on this bed?”

“Nope.” The hem of my sweater rode up from our fall, exposing my belly button. Noah traced circles onto the skin of my stomach, down to the material of my low-rise jeans. His touch sent a combination of tickles and chills through my body. My heart sped up and I struggled to keep my breathing normal.

Every Noah rumor had been right. His kisses curled my toes and now his simple touch rocked my body. Fear mingled with the pleasure in my bloodstream. “Noah?”

“Yes?” His dark eyes followed his fingers as they teased my belly button.

“When did you start smoking pot?”

He laid his palm flat against my tummy. “You’re going to make me work for this.”

I nodded, afraid I’d squeak instead of answering. Things were moving fast, way too fast for a slow girl like me.

Noah kicked off his shoes and inched up the bed to the pillows. “Come on.” My hand shook when I unzipped my black boots and lined them neatly on the floor next to his tossed-upside-down shoes. Why was I so nervous? This was Noah— study with, talk to, laugh and plot with Noah.

As I crawled up the bed to sit beside him, my pterodactyl butterflies somersaulted in my stomach. Good God, he was gorgeous and I was in bed with him. I leaned my back against the wall, pulling my knees to my chest. He lay. I sat. No, this wasn’t awkward.

Noah’s smile faltered. “Don’t do that, Echo.”

I raked a shivering hand through my hair and fought to control my voice. “Do what?”

He clutched my hand and gently rubbed his fingers over it. “Be scared of me.”

Noah sat up a little and I sank low enough to rest my head on his shoulder. I could compromise. “I’m not scared of you.” What you do to my body, maybe, but not you.

“What are you afraid of?”

“You answer my question first.”

He stretched his arm around my shoulder and settled his head against mine, enveloping me in a warm little bubble. “I was a lot like Luke my freshman year—the basketball star, the guy who dated all the right girls and had all the right friends … I tried to remain that person my sophomore year, but no matter how hard I tried, I kept failing. I couldn’t stay on a sports team because I couldn’t afford the equipment or my foster parents would make it impossible for me to make practices or games. Finally, I got tired of working so hard to fail, so I quit. One day a guy asked me if I wanted a hit, so …” He trailed off.