Crash into You (Pushing the Limits #3)

Crash into You (Pushing the Limits #3) Page 35

Silence. Nothing from her. Nothing from me. I close my eyes, cursing the scorching wetness behind my lids. I don’t want to feel anymore. Feelings hurt too damn much.

Quiet footsteps shuffle in my direction and the cash crackles again in my fist. “Go, Rachel.” My voice is so raw it’s nothing more than a rasp.

The bed moves and sinks to my left. A touch so light I almost believe I’m imagining it presses on my shoulder. “I think I’m falling for you, Isaiah.”

My head dips. I think I’m falling for you, too, and it terrifies me.

The pressure remains on my shoulder as the fingers of her other hand trace the compass tattooed on my forearm. “I don’t know what love is or how it should feel, but I know that when I’m with you I like who I am, and that’s never happened to me before.”

I like who I am when I’m with her. The music below us is soft, lyrical with a steady beat. Elvis’s deep voice sings about suspicious minds.

“I like who you are, Isaiah, and I like how you look at me. But what I really like is the rush that hits me when you’re in the room.”

Because Rachel has always been magic, she gives words to the emotion tearing at my soul. “People don’t attach themselves to me, Rachel.”

She kisses my shoulder, and a shudder runs through my body, igniting every cell. “Then maybe they don’t know you like I do.”

The finger tracing the tattoo slides down to my hands. “Give me the money, Isaiah. Trust me to keep it safe.”

I clutch the money tighter, but as her hands weave around mine, my grip loosens. “Do you understand the trouble, the danger, you’re taking on?”

With her fingers holding on to the cash she whispers, “Yes.”

I place my hand over hers. “Put it down.”

“But, Isaiah...”

I lift my head. “If you say you’re going to keep it safe, I believe you, but right now, I want you to put it on the floor.”

She half smirks with a twinkle in her eye. “You’re bossy.”

“Yes,” I admit. Hear what I’m saying, Rachel. Listen to what a controlling mess you’re falling for. “I am.”

The money hits the floor, and my hands immediately frame her face. She has skin so soft that I worry about damaging her with a gentle touch. Her breathing hitches as my lips come close to hers. I’m going to kiss her. “Tell me I’m who you want.” So I know there are no mistakes.

Her nose slides against mine as she slowly nods. “I don’t want anyone else.”

God help us both for her allowing the devil permission.

Chapter 42

Rachel

THE KISS COMES HOTTER AND faster than before. Our lips move quickly, a hunger grows between us that can’t seem to be quenched. There’s a rhythm, a dance, and somehow, I know the steps. An instinct tells me to follow his lead, to explore even further, to touch.

My hands drift down his back and when I feel scorching skin near the hem of his shirt, I gasp for air. Isaiah moans, and his lips leave mine to travel along my throat. My heart picks up speed as my entire body becomes one live electrical current.

His tongue swirls against the sensitive skin right where my jaw meets my neck. I shiver and press my body closer to his. When he meets my lips again, Isaiah loops his arm around my waist and pulls me farther onto the bed. On our sides, his body heat penetrates past my clothes, past my skin, creating an inferno in my blood.

A sudden coldness causes my eyes to flash open. Kneeling beside me, Isaiah’s hands go behind his head and he yanks off his shirt, tossing it to the floor. A flutter of excitement and nerves trembles in my stomach. I swallow and stare at the golden tiger rippling with the muscle in his arm. Biting my lip, I dig deep for courage. My hand reaches out. Stops. And I curl my fingers in.

“It’s okay, Rachel. Go ahead.” He angles so that the tiger is closer to me.

I outline the tattoo, enjoying its beauty. “I love this one.”

In the beams of street light scattered into the dark bedroom by the slatted blinds, I watch as Isaiah’s eyes melt into silver. “It’s my favorite,” he says. “One day I’ll get a tattoo for you.”

Warmth explodes in my chest, in awe that he would mark himself for me. “You don’t have to.”

“I will.” His fingers trace my cheek and chills of pleasure run down my spine. “It’s what I do. Each tattoo represents the only happy memories I’ve had. And you, Rachel, you’re the happiest.”

My lips move up, and his fingers brush them in response.

“I dream of your smile.” He follows the curve as if he’s an artist. “I’ve thought about you every night since the first night we met.”

There’s a power I only feel when I’m with Isaiah. A boldness I’ve never possessed in my life. Never in a million years would I have imagined I’d be the girl who’d say she was falling fast for a boy before he did. Never in a million years did I think I’d be lying in bed with a totally ripped guy that has his shirt off. But Isaiah has this effect on me. He makes me feel stronger than I really am.

There’s a pulse in my body, vibrating every pressure point. “I like kissing you.”

His hand lowers to my waist. “I could kiss you forever.”

I lazily glance at him from under my eyelashes. “Just kissing.” Because I think I’ll combust if we do more.

The right side of his mouth quirks. “Just kissing. And some touching.” To prove his point Isaiah’s hands caress my back, weave into my hair and slide against the dip of my waist.

Yes, definitely some touching. I inhale deeply, reminding myself that breathing is still a requirement. “I agree. Some touching. No new clothes off.”

Because I’d probably pass out at the thought of his jeans off. They already hang low on his hips. Too low. Very low. Low enough that I start to imagine what more there is to him.

Isaiah wraps his hand around the back of my neck and performs this deep massage that makes my eyes roll into my head in ecstasy. “I’ll put my shirt back on if you want.”

“No,” I breathe out. “I’m fine with it off.” More than fine.

I lick my lips as his teeth nibble on my earlobe. Between my muscles melting under his touch, my blood tingling with the teasing of my ear and the way my foot rubs against his calf, my thoughts become hazy.

My shirt rides up and Isaiah rubs his thumb in small circles on the bare skin of my stomach. The sensation causes me to arch my back and Isaiah groans as I kiss his neck. I like these feelings. Actually, I more than like them. They’re addicting, and I love how every little thing I do causes Isaiah to kiss and touch me more.

He rolls and I move with him. Our tangled legs become unraveled as my thighs fall open, accepting his weight. Isaiah’s body over mine is heavier than I would have imagined, but it’s a weight I craved without knowing it.

Isaiah kisses up my neck and when his lips meet mine again, he rocks his hips. Suddenly very aware parts of him are touching very aware parts of me, and my head falls to the side as a new sensation spikes through my body. One I’ve never felt before. One I want to feel again. One that...

My hands slip to Isaiah’s chest and I push. “Isaiah.”

Isaiah rolls us again, except this time his back is against the mattress and he slides me next to his side. His chest moves up and down at a rapid pace, and that’s when I notice that my breaths match his.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod, unable to think of anything coherent to explain why I did what I did. It was just new and fast and glorious and...

Isaiah places his fingers under my chin and has me look into his eyes. “It’s okay to stop.”

“I know,” I whisper, but to be honest, I don’t know if it is. I’m seventeen. Everyone else I know has done more...some way more...some into territories beyond way and into lands I don’t think I’ll ever visit.

Isaiah has to be more experienced than me. Has probably been with the girls who have no fear of pushing every boundary. Is it really okay for me to be... “I’m sorry I’m slow.”

He brushes my hair over my shoulder. “You’re not slow.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“I’m serious.” When he sees I’m unconvinced, he rubs at his stubble and starts again. “I don’t want you to give any more than you want. What makes this special is that you’re into it. The moment you aren’t, that’s where I become a bastard for asking for more. I’m telling you, I’ve got no problem taking it slow.”

I sigh. It’s the right words, but—

“Stop with the analyzing. Rachel, I’ve listened to the same movie bullshit you have about guys wanting to find the right girl and then wanting to take it slow because they believe the girl is worth the wait. I’ll admit, I never believed it, but meeting you...it’s not bullshit anymore.”

The right side of my mouth curves up. I’m worth waiting for.

Chapter 43

Isaiah

THE CLOCK ON THE SCREEN flashes as it hits the one-minute mark. I finished the test fifteen minutes ago, but I review my answers repeatedly. This is my future, and there is no room for mistakes. In less than sixty seconds, I’ll have earned my ASE certification.

The computer freezes—time’s up. What had been a silent room becomes noisy as the other guys from class who took the “field trip” to the testing center relax back in their seats and talk to one another.

“Isaiah,” Zach calls. “How’d you do?”

“Okay.” I kicked ass.

“Good.” He leaves his buddies and rests his hip against the half cubicle wall meant to dissuade cheating. “Did Rachel tell you about my proposal?”

“I don’t think you need to be proposing anything to my girl.” The area between my skin and muscles vibrates. Rachel didn’t tell me crap, but I won’t let Zach know that. I plaster a deadpan look on my face, stretch out my legs so that Zach has to move and angle my arms so that he sees my tats.

Zach takes a wise step away. “Just trying to help. Heard you need money and you know I’ll match any wager.”

“If you want to race me, you come to me. Not to Rachel.”

He becomes a cocky prick when he smiles. “I don’t want to race you. I want to race her.”

My legs fold in as I lean forward. Zach nearly trips over himself as he stumbles back. “She’s not racing.” An eerie silence hangs in the room as everyone watches the showdown.

After a few seconds of me staring and Zach saying nothing, the room returns to normal.

“Money is money,” mutters Zach. “Who cares who drives?”

I whisper so only he can hear, “I’m not racing for ten bucks. I’ve made serious money so I’m betting serious money.”

He glances around to verify everyone else has returned to their business. “I’m making serious money now. I’ll match whatever you got.”

I stare straight at him and, like always, Zach averts his eyes. Zach comes from a broken home, and they’ve always lived on the edge of government assistance. There’s no way this asshole fell into money this fast without playing with the devil. “Tell me you haven’t become Eric’s bitch.”