Breaking the Rules

“Really?” I ask. “We’ve got to sleep in here.”

  “Win the lottery?”

  Good point. Even if our clothes weren’t drenched with pool water, hotel dryers cost a fortune to get clothes to somewhat damp. “So what’s the plan?”

  “Lay them out flat and bring on the room heat. That is, after a shower.”

  I drop my own bundle of clothes at the mere mention of a shower. Heat against my skin, soaking past my muscles to my bones. I’ve never yearned for anything more in my life. A cold bead of water escapes from my scalp, glides down my face and onto my chest. My teeth rattle, and Noah assesses me at the sound. “Let’s go before you turn hypothermic.”

  “You’re letting me go first?”

  “Do you think I’d make you wait?” Noah walks into the bathroom and I follow, rubbing my hands against my arms. He opens the shower curtain and leans over to turn on the water.

  Good God, he’s gorgeous. Noah’s jeans ride low, low enough that if he hadn’t told me, I’d still know he wasn’t wearing boxers. Every single one of his glorious abs are exposed, and I even spot some of the smooth skin beneath the ripped-out muscles that lead to very private areas.

  Warmth curls in my belly. A warmth I wish would spread through the rest of me. Water splashes against the tub, and my eyes widen when Noah flicks the button of his jeans through the hole.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  Noah’s lips slowly form into that wicked grin I’m way too familiar with. Oh, crap. Just crap. “I’m cold, Echo, and so are you. A hot shower sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

  I nod, too frightened I’ll squeak instead of speak. Noah and I have messed around, a lot. We’ve kissed and touched and shed clothes in moments where things became as hot as an inferno, but there’s always been a discreet air surrounding us.

  Certain things stayed on when other things came off. Hands would wander below instead of a complete unveiling. And the times that we pushed beyond our normal boundaries and our blood rushed too hot for too long...there would be a blanket and one night, his black leather jacket.

  After that delicious night, I will never smell leather again without blushing.

  But now, this, standing in the middle of a hotel bathroom, Noah is suggesting that we strip ourselves of everything and huddle together behind a shower curtain and...well...bathe. That’s just...intimate.

  “I...”

  And Noah unzips his jeans. I spin on my heel, and my reflection in the mirror confirms the shock exploding in my body. My green eyes are too bright against my pale skin, and my drenched hair molds to my head and cheeks. Goose pimples outline my skin, and my body quakes.

  Because they’re wet, Noah’s jeans are a bit stubborn sliding down, but he’s successful, and in the mirror I’m drawn to his naked body. I love the raw power of his shoulder blades and the curve of his back that trails lower to his...my mouth dries out...oh, crap...his butt is...how do I describe something so exquisite?

  Everything about Noah is sexy, and as he bends to pull the jeans off his foot—

  “If you get in the shower with me, Echo, you’d get a better look and you’d warm up.”

  “I should get...my pj’s...so that they’re in here...when we...finish.” Or something.

  “Finish?” he repeats with a tease. “I’m all about finishing.”

  Internally screaming, I half turn and throw myself into what I believe is the doorway and instead ram into the corner of the wall. “Ow!”

  My hands fly up to my bang line to cover the now possibly dented and crushed area of my skull. I am the most impaired person on the face of the planet.

  “Echo?” Noah’s concern leaks into his voice, but I wave him off—without peeking.

  “Go. I’m fine. I’m just...go.”

  Instead, a warm hand settles on my shoulder, and my fingers slip down to hide my entire face. At least my cheeks are now hot. “You’re naked, Noah.”

  “Yeah. I am. Nothing you haven’t seen before—now let me see how bad it is.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You cracked your head, and I want to look.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Haven’t what?”

  “Seen you.” The words are muffled through my fingers. “Down there. All the way. I’ve...avoided it.”

  Water continues to pour into the tub, and I distantly wonder if the drain is open, otherwise we’ll flood the room. Noah brushes his thumb against my neck. “But you’ve—”

  “I know,” I cut him off. I’ve touched him, but no need to get all conversational about it.

  “And you haven’t—”

  “No.” I really, really don’t want to discuss this or hear him say out loud what I’ve done or haven’t done because it’s like pointing out that I overplucked one eyebrow or that my bangs are uneven or, I don’t know, it’s embarrassing!

  “Have you ever seen a guy’s—”

  Oh. My. God. “Yes.”

  “You have?”

  Crap and I wish I would melt into a puddle on the floor. “No.”

  Noah’s hands ease down my arms, then he folds me into him. His front heating my back. He dips his head to my ear and whispers. “Lower your hands.”

  “Nuh-uh.” My mind chants, can’t make me, followed by, la, la, la.

  “Baby, I’ve got no problem turning you around, propping you up on the sink and kissing you until you look at me.”

  And he wins. I drop my hands and catch his eyes in the mirror.

  “It’s okay,” he says.

  “I’m...” What am I? Damaged? Idiotic? Twelve and playing spin the bottle? “I wish I wasn’t like this.”

  “I like how you are just fine.” He kisses the side of my neck, and my knees literally go weak with the warmth of his lips against my cold skin. “You take a shower. I’ll lay my clothes out to dry then take one after.”

  He releases me, and I snag his hand. “No. Wait. I want to do this.”

  “Echo—”

  “No!” I spin and come close to stomping my foot. I crave this, and I’m done with him excusing my stupid fears because that’s all they are—stupid.

  I methodically stare straight into Noah’s eyes because I’ll probably go into anaphylactic shock or seize if I outright gawk lower. The normally smooth patch of skin between Noah’s eyebrows wrinkles as he checks out the pounding spot on my forehead. I tremble when his fingers lightly trace the area, but this time, it’s not because I’m cold.

  “Well?” I ask to fill the silence because the running water creates this weird vacuum effect. “Am I dying?” The answer is yes. I’m dying of embarrassment.

  Noah cups my face with both hands, kisses my wound, and something inside me gives. A thawing of frozen muscles. His lips skim lower—a kiss to the end of my nose—then he tips my face up, and he gently presses his mouth to mine.

  It’s a slow kiss. One that causes my heart to stop, and when it starts again, it doesn’t resume at a normal pace. It’s the type that washes away my fears and where I automatically tilt my head in a silent plea for more.

  His tongue slides against my lips, and I part them. Every inch of me springs to life. Each caress of his hand on my back, along the sides of my waist, near my thighs, stokes a fire that, over the past two months, has been rising in intensity.

  Noah rests both of his hands below my butt, and before I can move closer to him, he lifts me and props me onto the sink. I suck in a breath and pop open my eyes. Noah smiles at me in a way that makes me fall in love with him all over again.

  “You said you’d only do that if I didn’t lower my hands and look at you,” I tease.

  “What can I say? After I spoke the words, it was a done deal. I’m all about making my fantasies realities with you, Echo.”

  I giggle, and Noah grows serio
us as he grazes his thumb against my cheek. “Are you sure about the shower?”

  No. “Yes.” I blink three times.

  Noah chuckles. “Right.”

  “What if I want to be sure?”

  Noah

  Echo captures my hand in a death grip. “I mean it. I want to do this.”

  And I want her to, but fuck me, I’ll only do it if she’s a hundred percent positive. I’ve coaxed too many girls into situations they regretted. As much as I liked the high of making out, I hated the fallout when they realized they gave me too much. I loathed the hollow expression as the reality hit that what was lost could never be returned, and they wasted it on me.

  I love Echo, and I will never hurt her because she’s not ready for more. “We can wait.”

  “I’m tired of waiting,” she rushes out, and I freeze. She’s never said anything like that before. Echo claws at the neck of the wet shirt clinging to her body. “I’m tired of being me. This trip was supposed to change that. I was supposed to become more, and two months later I’m still stammering like a stupid child, and we’re going home next week and it’s all going to be the same. Me. You. Mom. Dad. Everything.”

  Okay. This conversation has detoured far from showers, and her body convulses with another fit of shakes. If we continue to hang out in the bathroom, my dick’s going to break off from frostbite, and Echo’s going to resemble a sheet of ice.

  “Echo...” I don’t know what the hell to do. I’m screwed any way I go.

  “I want to do this,” she repeats.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay,” she says again.

  Yet nothing speeds up. “I’ll get in the shower first, then you go in and if you change your mind at any time, I’ll get out.”

  “Okay,” she mumbles under her breath.

  I stare at her. She stares at the ceiling.

  “Clothes need to come off.” Then I reassess the situation. “Or not. You can shower fully dressed, and I’d be okay with that.” Not exactly every man’s dream, but if it helps Echo...

  Echo’s lips slant up. “Do you hate me?”

  “No.” I slip my fingers underneath the hem of her shirt. “I can help you if you’d like.”

  She finally meets my gaze, and I love the spark in her eyes. “I’m sure that would be such an imposition.”

  “We all have our crosses to bear.”

  Echo raises her arms, and parts of me jerk to life as I lift the material from her skin and slide it over her head. I briefly close my eyes to stop the groan: black lace bra. The one that’s see-through. Echo could wear this bra every day for the rest of my life, and I’d fall to my knees in praise.

  “Let me guess,” she says. “You look.”

  “Not look. Memorize.” I grab hold of her hips and drag her off the vanity and into me. “You’ve got a beautiful body. A guy would have to be dead not to look. Matching underwear?”

  “What is it with guys and matching underwear?”

  “I’m a simple man. Too many things going on at one time can be distracting.”

  She laughs, and the sound warms my heart.

  “You seem insanely focused.”

  “Didn’t answer about the underwear,” I say, because she’s deciding on clothes going forward. I won’t seduce her into this, though I’m fighting the instinct.

  Echo lowers her hands, and I’m hypnotized by the way she undoes the button to her jeans and the crackling of the zipper. Damn, the girl never lets me down. “You match.”

  “Because I know you like it,” she says quietly.

  “We’re doing this one step at a time.” I knot my fingers into her hair and take her bottom lip between both of mine. Her sweet scent overwhelms me and when Echo brushes her tongue across my lips, every single cell sizzles.

  If I don’t start reciting baseball stats, we won’t reach the tub. I step away and open the shower curtain. “Just a shower. If you want me to stay on the opposite side, I will. I won’t kiss. I won’t touch.”

  Echo flashes that siren smile. “What if I want to kiss you?”

  “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

  She giggles. I step in then close the curtain as she eases her jeans past her underwear. If Echo kisses me, touches me, shit, looks at me the right way, I’ll lose my fucking mind.

  I raise the knob, the water stops cascading from the faucet, whines in the pipes then sprays out of the showerhead. With a fast switch to the right, I turn off the hot water and lower my head, permitting the freezing water to pummel my urges. When the rings of the curtain jingle against the rod, I glance over my shoulder and turn the warm water back on. Damn, she’s beautiful.

  Echo

  Noah devours me with his eyes as he peers over his shoulder. There’s a wildness in them that creates a jolt of hysteria and excitement.

  My arms twitch with the need to cover myself, but I keep them straight to my sides. According to Noah, he’s seen all of me before, but what if it hasn’t been all of me, but parts of me at different times and maybe I was sort of shadowed?

  I rub at the scars on my left arm as Noah wipes the droplets from his face. Noah’s a sight with the water darkening the bangs hanging over his eyes. His skin glistens, and the beads highlight each curve and cut of his muscles.

  “You’re beautiful.” He offers me his hand. With a deep breath I accept and step in.

  I link my fingers with Noah’s and cling to him as if I’d fall apart if he let go. He draws me closer to him and turns so that hot water hits me instead of him. Very intimate areas of me press against him, and I blow out a long stream of air to prevent myself from hyperventilating again.

  Warm water rolls down my shoulders, over my breasts and sneaks into the impossibly minuscule crevices between me and Noah. As it flows between us, I swear the water becomes hotter. Noah shifts, and his body glides easily with mine. The lack of friction births a strange sensation—a sensitivity, an awareness...a hunger.

  I lick my lips and taste clean water. Noah watches the movement, his eyes growing darker by the second. My thumb swipes across his wrist, and his pulse pushes past his veins and skin. Standing so near, can Noah feel my heart beating?

  Noah holds my gaze, and I silently thank him for giving me a good excuse to not look down. Because I want to look down, but I don’t want to look down, and if I look down I want to look down without Noah knowing I’m looking down.

  He squeezes my hand. “Do you want me to let go?”

  I shake my head then discover the courage to speak. “No.”

  With his other hand, Noah frees a tendril of hair sticking to my cheek. As if the brush against my skin is a lightning rod, energy zaps from my head to my toes.

  “I want to kiss you,” he murmurs.

  I’ve lost the ability to breathe. “I want you to kiss me.”

  Noah releases my hand and as he leans forward, I inch back and find myself against the cold wall. It’s a strange tingle in my body, to be warmed on one side and cold on another. As Noah presses against me, the wall starts to absorb my heat, and I’m suddenly toasty.

  I take in Noah’s heady scent. It’s a mesmerizing smell, one that causes my mouth to water and my muscles to relax. As if sensing my give, Noah wraps an arm around my waist and cups my face with his other hand.

  I feel Noah. In a different way than I ever had before, and I wait for the panic or the insecurity, but none of it shows. As I stare into Noah’s eyes, I only sense peace, as if this moment is natural and is meant to happen.

  “I love you.” So much that sometimes it hurts.

  Noah tilts his head down, and his nose skims against mine. “You’re my whole world, Echo. Someday, when you’re ready, I’ll show you how much.”

  Small drops of water trail down our faces, and it’s like lit
tle teasing fingers. I run my hands up his back, exploring. When they tangle into his hair, I whisper against his lips, “Maybe soon.”

  Maybe now.

  Noah

  Echo’s different, and as I take her lips with mine, every ounce of my being responds to the change. She holds me closer, melts farther in and she’s lost her hesitancy. Her hands are everywhere, and mine behave the same. I can’t touch enough of her fast enough, and the urge for more drives me to press my body against hers. The flames are consuming both of us, pushing us to transform into a blazing wildfire.

  My tongue slips between her lips, and Echo arches into me. I bite back a growl, terrified of scaring her. My hands tangle in her hair and skim along her wet body, enjoying each sensual curve.

  The kiss is wild, passionate and deep. Kissing Echo has always been steaming, but this is beyond. As if a dam’s been breached, and the pent-up attraction floods out.

  Echo gasps for air, and my mouth brushes down her cheek to her neck—nipping, kissing, devouring. She tilts her neck to the side, granting me access, inviting me to explore more...explore lower.

  “Noah,” she says in the way I’ve dreamed of since the night I backed her against a wall outside of Mike Blair’s house in January. My name falling from her lips has been a major part of every erotic dream.

  She glances up at me from below her eyelashes, and my world stalls into slow motion. There’s a depth in her eyes that’s never been there before—a slow sexiness, an expectation. With the shower angled at her body, running down her beautiful curves, steam rising into the air, Echo’s red hair reshapes into ringlets.

  I slide my hands down her arms until I link our fingers together. “I need you to be sure.”

  Her chest moves as she inhales deeply. A bit of the tentativeness I’m used to with Echo returns as her fingers tighten around mine. “I think I am.”

  I want her. More than I’ve ever desired anyone. Need is a damn pulse in my body, and I can barely breathe with trying to keep myself under control. Image after image of taking Echo, right here, right now, becomes a virus in my mind. “Not think, Echo. You’ve got to know.”