Crash into You (Pushing the Limits #3)(80)

His arms give and I meet his eyes. “I know you heard what I said.”

He searches my face. “What?”

“The panic attacks.” I grab on to his forearms. “I have panic attacks. Often. You say you love me, but can you? Not when you don’t see me for who I am!”

“See you for who you are?” His forehead wrinkles. “I see exactly who you are.”

I’m shaking my head. “You don’t. It’s a fake. A mirage. What you think you see is a lie!”

“Rachel...” Isaiah’s chest rises as he inhales. “Come on.”

Taking my hand, he grabs a frayed blanket out of the backseat of his car and walks over to an area where the deteriorating wall ends and the ground slopes into nothing. A few feet away from the edge, he releases me, spreads out the blanket and sits with his bent legs spread apart.

I wipe my still-moist eyes and brush my bangs away, a bit unsure what to do.

“Sit with me,” Isaiah says. As I move to rest next to him, he stops me. “Not there. Here.” He motions to the spot between his legs.

Awkwardly, I settle in front of him. Isaiah, the king of secure, waves off any distance between us as he gathers me into the safe shelter of his body. The blood pulses faster in my veins. I like being this close to him. Maybe a little too much.

“You’re beautiful.” His breath tickles the skin behind my ear, and the small hairs stand on end with the joyous sensation. “You’re smart and funny. I love how your eyes shine when you laugh.”

He glides his fingers against my skin causing an addictive tingling. “I love how you lace your fingers and brush your hair from your face when you’re nervous. I love how you offer yourself so completely to me—no fear. You’re loyal and strong.”

“I’m not strong.” I cut him off. The panic attacks confirm that. Unable to be near him anymore, I attempt to untangle myself from him, but Isaiah becomes a solid wall around me and I jerk in his arms in protest.

His tender hold tightens, and the words feel like poetry because of the deep, soothing way he speaks. “You’re wrong. I see you exactly as you are.”

The anger loses its stronghold as his lips tease the sensitive curve of my ear. I swallow, thinking about the night in his room. Of how his body felt heavy over mine and how I loved feeling smaller under his touch. “You’re just repeating what I said to you.”

“What’s that?” he says in a breath that was barely words.

I shiver with pleasure. My thoughts become fragments, and I struggle to retain composure. “I told you that you don’t see yourself as you really are. You’re manipulating my words.” Words not meant for me.

He tucks his head next to mine. The rough stubble on his jaw seductively scratches my cheek, heightening my senses. I don’t want this feeling to go away: being completely immersed in Isaiah’s strength, his body, his love.

“When I’m with you, even my past seems like a bad dream,” he says. “I’ve sat on this hill a hundred times, and all I used to see were lights that represented places where I wasn’t wanted, where I never belonged. Now, when you aren’t with me, I look east and know that one of those lights represents you, and I don’t feel alone anymore.”

I stare out onto the east side of town. The sparkling lights in that area are more spread out than on the south side. “Where is your light, Isaiah?”

Isaiah shifts as his hand goes into his pocket and extracts a lighter. In one smooth motion, he flicks the wheel against the flint and a single flame bursts into the darkness. The small wild flame licks against the night and fights to stay alive as the wind blows over the top of the hill. Like a moth, my hand slides over the flame—craving the warmth, daring to be burned.

Maybe this is what happens when you fall in love. On the outside a lighter is nothing amazing, but it holds all the ingredients that can create something wonderful. With a few pushes in the right direction, you can inspire something so brilliant that it pushes back the darkness.

As Isaiah holds the light close enough to warm me, but far enough away to keep me safe, I wonder if this is the reason why I’ve always been drawn to a flame. I’ve been hoping to be burned. I’ve been hoping to be loved.

I turn my head toward Isaiah. His silver eyes glow as he stares at me with the same intensity as the first night in his apartment. That night, his gaze frightened me. Tonight, I know that it means love.

“You’re the first person to ever see me,” whispers Isaiah as he releases the lighter. He flips the top back on and in a swift motion he presses the still-warm metal into my hand. “I want you to keep it.”

My mouth drops open. He’s protective of that lighter. I’ve seen how he holds it, how he looks at it, and now understanding what it means, it would be like me giving him my car. “Isaiah...”

“I want to know I’m with you. It’s all I’ve got to give, so please, take it.”

I touch the double row of silver hoop earrings hanging from his left ear, trail along his jawline, his neck, down his shoulder, to the flaming tail of the dragon on his arm. He leans into the caress, and my own body feels on fire with the continued way his eyes gaze upon me. The first moment I saw him, the night people clamored over each other to step out of his way, I was frightened. The guy with earrings and tattoos and an energy radiating danger. Now—inside and out—all I see is beauty.