Elect - Dyken Rachel Van - Страница 20

• Предыдущая
• 20/51
• Следующая

Tex shrugged. “So pray I don’t hit the toilet tank.”

“Gross.” Trace rolled her eyes while Mo hit him again and waved good night to everyone.

Leaving me, Trace, and Chase awkwardly looking at each other. Whoever said threesomes were a good idea was clearly deranged.

“I, um… I’ll just be in the room.” Chase brushed by me and jogged down the hall.

Tracey’s eyebrows furrowed as she watched him run away like a scared deer. “Is he okay?”

I put my arm around her shoulder. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

“He’s not himself.” Her eyes met mine. “I mean, he’s acting like he hates me one minute, then the next it’s like he’s going to break down and cry. Chase never cries.”

“Chase never cries.” I tilted her chin toward my face. “He’s fine, I think the pressure’s just getting to him. After all, he’s trying to still pass his senior-year classes, protect you, and not have a nervous breakdown all before he turns twenty-two.”

“But why aren’t you acting that way?” Her face appeared so dejected. I couldn’t tell her the truth—that Chase was acting that way because he was a man in a tough spot. And she was only making it tougher. I wasn’t sure if I should just tell her in order to get her to lay off for a while, or just let things play out.

Her lips curved into a smile. “Something’s on your mind.”

“You.” I kissed her nose. “You’re always on my mind.”

“Good.” She hugged me and inhaled against my t-shirt. “Can we be together tonight?”

With a heavy sigh I shook my head. “Trace, I wish we could. I know our security is the shit, the house is on lockdown, we have men everywhere, but it’s a huge risk. If something happened and you were in my room and someone happened to see it was me and not Chase? Yeah, I’m not willing to take that chance.”

“Then why don’t I just stay in my own room?”

I tucked her hair behind her ear. “Because, I don’t trust any of my men as much as I trust Chase. He would take a bullet for you without blinking.” Which both aggravated me and made me relieved. He’d do anything for her—I was counting on that loyalty to keep her safe from death—but from him? Jury was still out. At this point I didn’t trust anyone. I just knew that if Chase was taking care of the love of my life, at least I could sleep at night knowing she wasn’t in danger.

“But—”

I pressed my finger to her lips. “I love you. And I promise, this weekend, I’ll find a way for us to be together. Would you like that?”

“Yes!” She pointed her finger in my face. “But it better be a date. A real date, with real food, and fun and—”

“Stop trying to tell me how to be a man. Pretty sure I rock at the date stuff.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right, because last time we didn’t get chased by men with guns.”

I shrugged. “First date bad luck. Nothing more.”

Her laughter was like balm to my damaged heart. “Fine, I trust you.”

“Do you?” I grasped her hand within mine. “Trust me?”

“With everything.”

“Your safety?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Your life?”

“Of course.”

“Your heart?” I whispered across her lips.

“You tell me, Nixon.” She dipped her fingers into my hair and pulled my head down to hers. Her mouth met mine in a frenzy. “You’re the one holding it.”

I sighed in relief and kissed her hard on the mouth, pushing her farther into the hall where we were hidden from any windows and blanketed in shadows.

“You sure you can’t stay with me?” She panted, reaching under my shirt and running her hands down my bare back.

“Believe me,” I growled, nipping at her lips, “if I stayed with you, the freaking President of the United States would know something was up. When I’m with you, Trace. That first time. It won’t be a damn secret. It won’t be something we have to hide from the world. It’s going to be life-altering, and you will be mine over and over and over again until the only word on your lips is my name. Got it?”

Her breathing picked up as she nodded and said in a hoarse voice, “Yes.”

“Good.” I exhaled. “Now I need to go take a cold shower.”

“Need company?” She winked and swatted my ass before walking off toward her room.

“Tease,” I called and went in search of some very, very cold water.

I knew the instant she came into the room. It took exactly three seconds for her perfume to float from her body and into my personal hell.

I was lying underneath a giant white down comforter and trying to breathe in the smell of the laundry detergent.

“Chase?” she whispered.

Shit. I squeezed my eyes tightly closed and answered, “What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

The light was off so I couldn’t see her, but I knew she was close. Soon her cold feet were touching my legs as she got out of her bed and lay down next to me in mine. Thankfully, the comforter was creating a really nice boundary between her and my body. Otherwise… well, I would have probably died.

“For whatever I did to make you mad.” Her hand reached out to pat my arm. “I’m sorry.”

“Trace…” I groaned, “you didn’t do anything.” And that was the problem, wasn’t it? My pride was hurt a bit; that much was sure. But, part of me, a small part—or maybe a large part—thought we had something. A connection that she and Nixon didn’t have. What we’d shared over the past few months had been unique, different. I felt it and she didn’t. She shouldn’t be apologizing for being the strong one.

“Come here.” Suddenly I wasn’t so concerned with losing control. I was her friend, she’d put me in that zone, and the last thing she needed was for me to be an ass about her not loving me when her grandfather was stuck in hiding and her almost-rapist was chained to a chair on the grounds threatening to kill everyone. “I’m the one who should be sorry.” I kissed her head and sighed when she wrapped her arm around my chest and tucked her head under my arm.

“What are you sorry for?”

Oh so many, many things. “Not being who you need me to be.”

“You mean like earlier when you were being a jackass in your stupid Betty Crocker apron?”

Chuckling, I squeezed her closer. “Hey, don’t hate on the apron. And yes, like earlier today. I guess… well I guess I’m just not used to all your hormones.”

“What?” Her voice bordered on murderous.

I laughed. “Trace, I’m just used to a lot more violence and killing, and here you show up with a cow keychain, a fetish for every damn squirrel on campus and the ability to make me laugh my ass off, regardless of if you mean to or not. You’re just…”

Amazing, she was amazing.

“Perfect, and your light kind of makes my darkness seem a lot more lonely.”

“But you’re with me twenty-four-seven?”

Yes, just another problem. “Right, but you aren’t mine. Get it? It’s like getting a present for Christmas only to find out someone’s going to take it away on New Year’s.”

“What kind of present am I?” Trace laughed. “Come on, you can tell me.”

“A bike.” I shook with laughter. “Because I would ride you so hard that you’d—”

Her fist knocked the wind out of my stomach pretty effectively, ruining the arousal I’d had going for me about fifteen minutes ago.

We lay there in complete silence for a while, and then she said in a sleepy voice, “Don’t leave me again, Chase. Please.”

“I won’t,” I vowed. “I swear.”

The next day didn’t suck so bad. First of all, it was Tuesday so it was lab day for Trace, meaning I got to sit and watch her learn how not to do chemistry. The girl really needed to decide on a major soon. Those Gen Eds were going to be the death of one or both of us.

“You can’t mix those.” I reached out and took the beaker away from her and set it near the Bunsen burner that, luckily, wasn’t currently on. Shit, at the rate she was going she was going to burn down the entire school.

• Предыдущая
• 20/51
• Следующая