Home > Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits #1.5)(25)

Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits #1.5)(25)
Author: Katie McGarry

“Me, too.” The water ripples around Echo as she stays afloat, and it eventually reaches the wall next to me. “Time to start bobbing for jeans.”

Her mouth squishes to the side and the contents of my stomach bottom out. “What?”

“I can’t open my eyes under water.”

“You’re kidding.”

Tiny voice. “No.”

Fuck me. I straighten, pull the shirt over my head and kick off my shoes and socks.

“What about your jeans?” Echo asks. “It’s just us and I’m cool with you swimming around in your boxers. You need at least one dry outfit.”

I glance at my jeans and they hang right at my hips. “It wasn’t a boxer type of day.”

Echo sinks and when she resurfaces, it’s only with her eyes then slowly up to her chin. “One of these days you are going to get us into a ton of trouble.”

“Baby, so far the trouble’s been on you. Breaking into guidance counselors’ offices—”

“That was you!”

“—tossing clothes into the pool.”

She splashes me as she kicks back.

I shake my head to get the water out of my hair. “You’re paying for that one, princess.”

“You have to catch me first,” she taunts as she grabs at a floating blob. My favorite black T-shirt smacks onto the concrete with a wet flop.

“Little full of yourself tonight, aren’t you?”

I love the light in her eyes. “I was the three-year-straight swimming champ.”

That I didn’t know. “So was I. Mine in the Y from third to fifth grade. What’s your story?”

Echo’s grin widens. “Backyard baby pool against Lila. Reigning preschool champ.”

“You’ve got me quaking in my boots.”

She goes under for the balled socks in the three foot section, and I eye the deep end. A pile of blue jeans covers the drain. Wonder how many quarters it will take to dry all of this. Doesn’t matter. The answer doesn’t get my clothes onto land. Like my dad taught me, I raise my hands over my head and dive in.

Echo

Dripping from head to toe and shivering so much that my brain rattles, Noah and I scurry down the hallway, each of us carrying a hundred-pound load of completely soaked clothes. Okay, only I scurry. Noah more or less struts, and I tote fifty pounds while Noah shoulders the rest.

My hands shake so badly that I miss the slot for the key card twice and breathe a sigh of relief when the door clicks open. The air conditioner I had turned down earlier in the day has officially become my worst enemy as goose bumps creep up my arm to my neck.

“Damn, Echo. Freezing meat?”

“I was hot.”

Noah dumps his clothes into a lump on the floor and readjusts the thermostat from arctic winter to what will eventually be tropical heat.

“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.

   
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