One more tuck behind the ear, and I step out of the bathroom. “Thanks for the shirt.” I fuss with the ends again.
“It looks good on you,” he says as his eyes settle on the curve of my hips. Holy hell, it got hot in here.
My jacket lies over the arm of the couch. I walk over to it and fish my cell phone out of the pocket. One a.m. and one text from Ethan: where r u?
Isaiah shifts uneasily as I text Ethan back. I glance at him while typing a reply. He changed while I was in the shower, switching a black T-shirt with wording for another with different wording. Isaiah keeps surveying the apartment, and I finally get it. He’s wondering how to keep a safe distance from me.
“You don’t have to stay so far from me,” I say. “I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
Lying by typing still driving, I push Send and put the phone back in my coat pocket. “If you were going to hurt me you wouldn’t have saved me from that fight or brought me home to use your shower. You also wouldn’t be standing all the way over there, so I trust you.”
“And that’s just bad for both of us,” he mumbles and then speaks to me in a normal tone. “Are you in trouble at home?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. My brother is good at distracting my parents.”
“That’s not what I mean,” he says. “You were seriously trippin’ when you thought you had to go home with beer on you. Your parents—how hard-core are they?”
I swipe at my forehead as if there’s a stray hair to be restyled and feel nak*d when I don’t find one. “I don’t understand.”
Isaiah hops off the counter, and I’m mesmerized by the fluid way he walks: a sleek predator on the move. “It’s okay. I get it. Sometimes things are...” And he’s near me. Close enough that I have to lift my head to see his face. “Rough.”
“It’s...ah...it’s...” I love his eyes, and my skin tingles with the thought of his hands on me again. “Ah...” What were we discussing? Parents. Right. My parents. “It’s complicated.”
Complicated as in I’ve been failing miserably at replacing my mother’s dead daughter. My parents and oldest brothers have told me enough Colleen stories for me to be well aware that she would never have broken curfew, participated in a drag race or been alone with a guy.
“Right,” he says so slowly that the word sounds unbelievably sexy. “Complicated. So.” He pauses. “Are you ready for me to take you back to your car?”
Yes. No. Yes. Maybe not. Oh, crap. It’s ending too soon and I don’t want it to. I’m not good at this. I’m not smooth or good with words or good with guys or good with people. I’m silent. I blend in. How do I make this not go away?
“I like you,” I whisper and immediately stare at my shoes. Of all the things I could have said, that shouldn’t have been it. I. Am. An. Idiot.
A gentle tug on my hair sends goose bumps raining down my arms. I close my eyes and relish the sweet brush of his knuckles against my neck as he flips my hair over my shoulder. “Rachel?”
“Yes?” I say so softly he may not have heard me.
His hand caresses the sensitive spot right below my chin, and with a gentle pressure, Isaiah raises my head until I look into those warm silver eyes. “I like you, too.”
The right side of my mouth quirks and a spring of hope bubbles up inside me. He likes me. A really hot, really awesome guy likes me.
“Good,” I say a little breathlessly. “That’s good.” More than good. It’s great.
Chapter 13
Isaiah
I GLANCE DOWN AT RACHEL’S mouth and feel the urge to press my lips to hers. I’m a f**king jackass. I suck in a breath through my mouth to avoid her scent and step back, dropping my arm to my side. I did not bring her back here to have sex.
Hell yes, she’s hot and my mind won’t stop replaying the twelve different ways I could possibly do her, but she’s not that type of girl.
I rub my eyes. I haven’t touched anyone since Beth, but that doesn’t mean I have the right to come on to a girl that’s too good for me. I slump onto the couch and notice how Rachel shifts uncomfortably. Dammit, she shouldn’t have to put up with my mood swings.
“I do like you,” I repeat. “There’s only one other person who’d stick their neck out for me. If there’s anything I can do for you, name it and it’s yours.”
The chaos in my mind begins to clear as I start to understand why I’m acting like a maniac. Beth’s been the only girl to mean something to me, and I generally don’t give a shit about people. I’m confusing lust and friendship and creating crap that’s not there. Fuck yeah, I’m attracted to Rachel, but the emotions going on...it’s because I owe her.
“Will you let me clean up your cut?” she asks.
I check out the small hunk of skin missing from my forearm, having forgotten about the wound. “It’s all good. I’ve had worse.”
“No, you said that if you could do something for me, you would, so let me do this.”
“Yeah. If I can do something for you. Not have you do something for me.”
Rachel clasps her hands behind her back like she doesn’t know what else to do with them. “I want to do this, and I’d like you to let me.”
Keeping my hands off her and being respectful are going to be hard as hell if she continues to put herself within arm’s reach. “Fine.”
I stand and spend more time than needed rifling through the cabinet beneath the sink to find Band-Aids, rubbing alcohol and a towel. Echo bought this stuff for us when we first moved in, and neither Noah nor I have touched it since. As I set it all on the floor in front of the couch, Rachel motions for me to sit and when I do, she joins me with her knee grazing my thigh.
Fuck me, she’s warm.
Rachel opens the box of Band-Aids and searches through it as if she’s an actual doctor picking a scalpel. The scent of the ocean enters my nose and my jeans tighten. “If you’re serious about modifying your car, I’ll do it if you get the parts. No cost.”
That can be the way I repay this debt and stop thinking about letting my fingers drift up her shirt to caress what would probably be the softest skin on the planet.
She peels back the paper to reveal the Band-Aid and balances it on her knee. “If I do make modifications, I think I’d like to do them myself. I don’t get to work with cars that often, and I sort of get a rush when I do.”
Jesus, it’s like I’ve met my twin. One glance at her slim figure and I erase that thought. I wouldn’t be attracted to someone I was related to. “Then think about what you want and I’ll score you the parts.” I’ve got favors I’d call in for her.
“Hold out your arm,” she instructs and though it makes me feel like a damn fool, I obey.
Rachel pours alcohol onto the towel and begins to dab it on the cut. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that, but I’m not sure I want to mess with her. My real dream is to find an old Mustang and supe her up. Kind of like what you’re doing with yours. That would be awesome.”
Ignoring the slight sting on my arm, I turn my head to survey her. This girl is too good to be true. “Then I’ll help you with that.”
Rachel holds the towel to my skin. “You don’t have to.”
“I owe you.”
Her nose wrinkles as if she’s thinking something she believes is not worth saying. I have to keep myself from asking what.
“Does it hurt?” she asks. “Because sometimes I blow on my cuts when I put alcohol on them.”
“I’m good.”
“Then I guess I’m a wuss. I would have thought the alcohol would sting. You’re missing the top layer of skin.”
Without another word, she places the towel on the floor, takes the plastic off the Band-Aid and presses it to my skin. I haven’t worn one of these since I was five. Earlier tonight, everything felt hopeless after I talked to Noah, but being around her erases bad thoughts.
Rachel raises her head and her forehead scrunches. “What?”
Under the dim lighting, parts of her hair shine and I crave to run my fingers through it. Fuck it. Once she goes home, she’ll never come back. If Beth taught me anything, it’s to grab hold of what’s in front of me while I can. “What would you do if I kissed you?”
Chapter 14
Rachel
MY MOUTH FALLS OPEN, AND only when it starts to get dry do I close it. What would I do if he kissed me? Go into shock? Have multiple seizures? Jump up and down? I take in a shaky breath. Isaiah called me brave so I rush out the words. “Kiss you back?”
His gray eyes soften as if I gave an acceptable answer, but then he studies my face with a sober expression. “How many boyfriends have you had?”
My entire body sags, and I lace my fingers together, unlace them and lace them again. “Why?”
“Because.” His hand covers mine to halt my serial lacing. “I’ve never met anyone like you. I’m...trying to understand you.”
I don’t want to answer. I like the idea of him thinking of me as brave, as the girl who teases him in a bar. I don’t want him to see me as I really am—the tongue-twisted ’fraidy cat who’s never dated a guy.
“I don’t care what the answer is,” he prods. “But I need to know.”
There is no way I can admit this and meet his eyes, so I focus on our combined hands. “I’ve never had a boyfriend.”
I take a quick peek and Isaiah nods once, as if he already knew what I would say. He raises his hand to my face again and I allow the touch. His fingers slide along my jawline and the warmth of his caresses radiates past my skin and into my bloodstream. Pleasing goose bumps rise on my neck.
“Do you think you’ll come back sometime?” he asks. “And let me help you with your car?”
My ears ring with the staccato thrum, thrum, thrum of my heart. Holy crap, I can’t believe this is happening to me.
“I’ll make it work. I swear.” The words tumble out of my mouth without thought. That’s not true. Actually, they tumble out with a lot of thought of how my parents won’t approve, of how my brothers will kill Isaiah, then possibly kill me. But in this moment, I don’t care what any of them think.
“I want to kiss you,” Isaiah says.
A rush of terror and excitement floods my body. “Isaiah, I’ve never...”
“It’s okay.” Oh, God, his voice is dark and smooth and hypnotic.
I suck in air and sort of clumsily move my head so he knows this is what I want. “What do I do? I mean, how do I...”
And he doesn’t let me finish. Isaiah lazily yet deliberately tilts his head as he stares into my eyes. My entire body hums and a fuzzy sensation fills my head, making it hard to focus. My mouth opens then closes. And as he slowly bends down, my tongue quickly licks my dry lips.
I hope I’m doing this right. I want to do this right.
Isaiah slips his hand from my chin to cradle my head. His fingers tunnel through my hair, making the back of my neck tingle with anticipation as the pad of his thumb whispers gently against my cheek. His lips hover right next to mine and his warm breath heats my face.