Читать книгу Breaking The Rules - Кэти Макгэрри, Katie McGarry - Страница 15

Echo

Noah drops his forehead to my shoulder and groans. Good God, I completely understand. My body pulsates like a five-alarm fire. I kiss his collarbone and rub my hand along his spine, in regret...in apology. His phone rings a third time. “You should answer.”

“Fuck.” He presses his lips against my neck before drawing away and yanking his phone out of his back pocket. “Yeah.”

Noah’s eyes meet mine, and I tilt my head in question. I exhale when he subtly shakes a no, telling me the call is benign.

“Yeah,” he says again then flashes a smile promising lots of naughtiness. “I understand.”

Noah cups my waist and swipes his finger underneath the material of my shirt. My mouth pops open. No way. There is no way he means to explore while he’s on the phone. His hand begins to travel for my bra. Holy freaking crap. I bat at his arm and mouth. “No.”

“Why?” he mouths back, but his grin grows.

“Because,” I yell-whisper.

Noah lowers his arm away from my bra and instead snakes it around my waist, gathering me to his side. He nuzzles my hair before saying into his cell, “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Thanks.”

He ends the call and slides his phone back into his jeans. “Tell me I’m forgiven.”

“Who was that?” I ask.

In lightning-fast movements, Noah rolls us both, and his heavy weight pins me against the mattress. “Say I’m forgiven.”

“For what?” My brain goes blank. Noah’s on top of me, and subconsciously my legs hook around his. Through his jeans and my jean shorts there are parts of him that are sweetly touching parts of me.

We haven’t made love yet. I think of it. I dream of it. Sometimes I wake up so on edge that I worry I’ll explode, but when it comes to it, I haven’t found the courage to cross the line. And Noah’s always patient...so patient. Even when he has to resort to cold showers or really, really long hot ones.

I don’t ask what he’s doing in there, but I kinda can guess, and that only makes me feel epically worse.

“For upsetting you this morning,” he answers. “Tell me I’m forgiven.”

I nod because I love him, and I can’t imagine not forgiving him. “Just don’t do it again.”

Noah rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes as if I handed him a death row pardon. “I love you, Echo.”

The pterodactyls that only he can create lift their wings and soar in my stomach. I love those words out his mouth. Almost as much as I love his hands on my body and the way his eyes devour me. Almost as much as I love him.

He kisses my lips and before I can repeat the same to him, he’s off the bed. “I’ve got to roll. The last Malt and Burger jacked up my hours in the system, and they want me to go into a local one and fix it.”

I sit up on the bed and bite the inside of my lip to keep from throwing a fit like a toddler. “How long?”

“An hour. Maybe longer.” Noah places one of the room keys on the dresser next to the television. “By the way, I want to take you out to dinner in Denver to celebrate. Someplace nice.”

“Celebrate what?”

“For when you blow those pretentious assholes away with your paintings.”

I smile, amazed by the roses, by his faith in me and by the fact that he’s absolutely fantastic. “Thanks.”

Noah gently pulls one of the curls. “Damn, baby, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to kiss you.”

But I do want him to kiss me. Instead, I shove at his wall of a chest, and he winks at me before he grabs the keys to the car and walks out the door. The air conditioner kicks off, and I lean against the headboard, staring at Noah’s roses on the bedside table. I pick one up, inhale the sweet scent and wonder, when it comes to it, why I’m waiting.