“Noah,” she whispers in reprimand.
“You’ve never complained when I’ve tried to undress you before.”
Echo readjusts so she can see me, and for the first time since this morning, those eyes dance. “Yes, I have.”
“When?”
“The last day of school.”
“So you’ve complained once.” When I led her to the nook of the abandoned hallway in the basement near my locker. I only meant to sneak in for a kiss during lunch, but things got hot and heavy and well...sue me. “I didn’t buy a yearbook, so I was memory-making.”