“Thanks.”
I wait for him to hand me the pick back, but he continues to brush the rest of my hair. No one’s done anything like that for me before, and the act makes my skin joyously sensitive.
After a few minutes, he places the pick on the nightstand and settles back against the pillows. I turn and watch as he messes his hand through his hair. I like it damp. It’s a tad bit darker and gives him this hint of wildness.
“I don’t want you scared of me, Echo.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
I think of the first night we made out in the basement of his foster parents’ house. He told me he didn’t want me to be scared of him. I told him I wasn’t, but I was. I was frightened by the sensations caused by his touch. Months later and I’m still terrified. Noah’s right. I’m no different.
I move so that I face him, but stay safely near the end of the bed. “I’m scared.”
Noah scratches his chin with his knuckles and shakes his hair over his eyes. “Me, too.”
“What?” Maybe we aren’t discussing the same thing.
“I’m scared.”
“Of what?” He’s Noah Hutchins. They guy who has done it backward, sideways and forward. “I mean you’ve done this, and I haven’t. I can’t even get myself together enough to handle looking at your—” I wave both hands frantically in the air “—stuff.”
“Stuff?”
Oh, my God. “Noah, if there was something sharp nearby, I’d slam it into my brain so I wouldn’t have to have this conversation. So can you stop pointing out my inability to say...stop pointing out my inabilities.”
“Fine. We’ll do this your way.” Noah stretches out his legs and offers me his hand. “But we’re talking.”
Talking. We’re going to do this. We are going to talk about it. We’ve discussed this before...the night I was willing to do it with him, but we didn’t do it, we did other things, and since then he’s been patient.
Still sitting cross-legged, I edge closer to him and bring his hand into my lap so that I can hold it in both of mine. My knee rubs against his thigh, and I like how the hair on his legs tickles my skin.
Noah frowns and tips his chin, indicating that I should come closer, but I can’t. I need distance so I can curl into a ball and die if the conversation becomes too much. That would be harder to do being tucked next to Noah.
“What are you scared of?” I ask.
Noah slides his ring finger along mine, and a small amount of liquid heat flows into my veins. “Hurting you.”
Fantastic. “So you are abnormally large.”
Noah laughs, and I blush so hard that I could roast marshmallows off my cheeks. He squeezes my fingers until I finally meet his gaze. “While I don’t go around checking out the competition, I’d say I’m normal.”
New, refreshing air fills my lungs. Good. That’s good. I think. “Lila said her first time hurt.”
“I’ll try not to hurt you, but a lot of it’s going to depend on how into it you are.”
Kill me. Please tell me we aren’t discussing what I believe we’re discussing. “Got it.”
Yet he keeps going. “Because if you aren’t sure this is what you want to do and you say yes, it’s going to be difficult because you won’t be—”
“I said I got it,” I snap, and throw him a glare that says I’ll happily cut his stuff off if he doesn’t shut up.
“I’ve got condoms that are lu—”
“No.” I slam my hands over my face. “You have them. I know you have them. I do not need to know their specific function and attributes.”
Noah brushes his thumb against the inside of my wrist before he wraps his fingers around my hand. He pulls until my shield gives. “It’s okay. I’m fine continuing with what we’re doing.”
My foot rocks frantically on the bed. “But I want to.”
Noah’s grim as he watches my foot. “If it’s this difficult for you to talk about sex—”
“Because I’m embarrassed!” I yell. “I’m embarrassed because you know everything, and I know nothing, and I hate that no matter what I do, I won’t be good enough.”
Noah sits up, and when I try to duck out of reach, he advances like a tiger and flips me so that I’m lying flat on the bed. He presses his palms onto the comforter on both sides of my head, and his dark eyes bore into mine. My heart pounds wildly and, because I can’t help myself, I reach up and touch his face, sliding my fingers over the rough shadow of his jaw.
Noah leans into my touch, and I love that I have that effect on him. I lick my lips, half hoping he kisses me—half wondering what would happen if he did.
“Echo, kissing you for the rest of my life would be good enough, and you need to get these fucked-up thoughts out of your brain. I’m scared of making love to you because you’re too good for me. I’m terrified that after I share this with you, you’ll realize the mistake, and I can’t take that. Not from you.”
My eyebrows furrow. “Mistake?”
Noah slams his eyes shut then rolls away. Now I’m the one up after him, clinging to his hand before he can bolt off the bed. “What do you mean that I’ll think it was a mistake?”
“Let me go.” A thunderhead creeps onto his face as he stands next to the bed.