Elect - Dyken Rachel Van - Страница 5

I was clad in only my boxers.

“If only it would wash away your sins…” a voice said from behind me.

“Ah, the bastard returns. Tell me, how was Women’s Studies?” I turned around to see Chase and Trace setting their bags on the couch.

“Awesome,” Chase said dryly. “I learned exactly how not to piss Trace off, so that should come in handy one of these days, or like in the next few seconds.”

“Hilarious.” Trace pushed him and then held out her hand to me. “I missed you.”

Was it wrong that I hated how much I missed her, too? I sighed and pulled her into my arms. God, she smelled so good. It always calmed me to hold her. Having her in my arms was the closest to heaven I would ever get.

“How was your day?”

“Better than yours.” She pulled back. “At least I kept my clothes on.”

Chase groaned from the couch.

“You okay?” I looked above Trace’s head.

“Splendid. Ask Trace about her KI class. She kicked my ass.”

Trace wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me softly across the lips. It still made me feel—unbalanced—when people were touching me. Trace never knew the real reason. I swore I’d take it to my grave. But it always reminded me of his hands, of being strangled within an inch of my life, of being locked in my room without food. It just… it was damn difficult. And although she calmed me down—when she wrapped her arms around me, or when I felt like I had no escape—I panicked.

I slowly undid her hands from behind my neck and kissed her fingers. “I’m liking this conversation. So you kicked Chase’s ass? About time, I’d say.”

“I tried.” Her shoulders hunched as her brows furrowed together.

I tensed. “What the hell happened?”

“Why did something have to happen?” Chase asked behind her.

“Because she’s all… stiff.”

“Me too.” Chase grumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind.” Chase got up from the couch. “Look, I need to go”—he pointed to the door—“take a break from security detail. I’ll come back and get her for her last class and you and I can chat, okay?”

“Fine.” I watched him leave. Nervousness was making a damn hole in my stomach. I walked Trace over to the couch.

Her eyes were glued to my bare stomach.

“Not my face, Trace.” I tilted her chin up. She blushed and then closed her eyes.

“That was embarrassing.”

“Not for me.” I grinned. “Now, stop objectifying, and tell me what happened in class.”

“It wasn’t a big deal. I mean, it was but—”

“Why the hell are you shaking?” I gripped her wrists, probably harder than I should have, and told myself to calm down. “Trace, tell me.”

She was closing herself off, the way she sat on the couch, crossed her legs, and primly placed her hands in her lap—everything was off. That wasn’t the Trace I was used to being with. It scared the living hell out of me.

“We had to act out scenarios.”

I felt my eyes narrow. “What kind of scenarios?”

Trace played with the edge of her shirt and shrugged. “Ones where people get attacked, broken into… raped.” Her voice trailed off.

That particular professor had just sealed his retirement.

“Trace, look at me, are you okay? Did Chase—”

“Chase was great.” Her face lit up. Damn it. “He talked me through the situation and, well, it ended up being fine. I think I’m just a bit shook up. He forced me to do it. Basically threw me against the mat and gave me hell.”

It took me exactly five seconds to decide that I was going to murder him on the spot for putting her in that position. Ten seconds after that, I was feeling such insane jealousy that his body had been pressed against hers, I almost grabbed my gun and took off after him.

“So…” A few pieces of hair fell across her face as she bit her lip. “Chase gave me some tough love, said to buck up, and I did it. I actually pinned him to the ground.” Her face lit up like a damn Christmas tree. No wonder Chase left; he didn’t want me to shoot him in the ass.

I snorted. “I’m sure he loved that.”

“What?” Trace tilted her head. Was she really that clueless?

“Do you really have no idea?” I tucked some of her dark hair behind her ear and sighed. “No idea at all?”

“Idea? Help me out, Nixon. I don’t speak crazy.”

Cursing, I pulled her into my lap and wrapped her legs around my waist so her body was pressed against mine. “You. Are. Gorgeous.” Her body shivered in response to my touch. A hiss of air escaped through her lips as her legs tightened around my body.

I braced her hips with my hands and slowly moved them up. I looked at her perfect body as it fit like a missing piece to my puzzle. “Any guy would be an idiot not to have a problem keeping it in his pants around you, Trace. And that’s the truth.”

“You don’t seem to have a problem with it?” She winked.

I growled and jerked her head toward mine, crushing my lips against hers. I slipped my tongue past the barrier of her lips and promised myself she’d forget Chase had even touched her today. “Right,” I growled low in the back of my throat. “No problem whatsoever. I’m basically a saint.” I brought her hands down the front of my chest and lower, to my boxers. “You need to know one thing, sweetheart.”

“What?” Her hands froze on my abs.

“I would kill my own cousin.”

“What?” Her expression turned horrified: Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.

“I would.” I shrugged. “He knows you aren’t his to touch, you aren’t his to want.”

“And I’m yours?” Oh great, now I’ve pissed her off.

I gripped her face between my hands and kissed her mouth softly. “Yes. Whether you like it or not, we belong to each other. I’m as much yours as you are mine—I don’t share. I want to freaking murder anyone who even so much as looks in your direction, or at your shoes, and damn if I don’t hate those boots that Chase got you. I want to consume you. I want to be the one that puts a smile on your face. I want to be the one that teaches you pleasure—me. Not anyone else. Sharing you—even by way of my cousin, who I trust more than anyone in the world—has to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

“Nixon,” she sighed against my mouth. “I love you. You have to know that.”

“That’s the problem,” I said.

“How is that a problem?”

“It’s a problem because I’m consumed with you, Trace. Are you hungry? How are classes? Do you need your space? Are you scared? Can you shoot a gun? Shit. I can’t even sleep at night because I’m so terrified, and I’ve literally been sharing a bed with you for the past two weeks.”

A pretty blush stained her cheeks.

“Sharing a bed isn’t sex; stop blushing.” I winked when she smacked me on the shoulder. “Not that I’m opposed to the idea…”

“You’re a guy. You’re never opposed to it.”

“You’re not ready, therefore I have to be.” I pushed her away gently and cupped her face with my right hand. “I’m not telling you all of this to get all sappy and freak you out. I just want you to know what’s at stake.”

“What do you mean?”

“Faust is here.”

“WHAT?” Trace stumbled out of my embrace and stood. “The same Faust who accused me of asking for it when I told him Phoenix raped me? That Faust?”

I chuckled. “Yeah, though he may be unrecognizable right about now.”

“Nixon, you didn’t…”

I shrugged. “He’s alive.”

Trace pressed a shaking hand to her temple. “What does he want?”

“What does anyone want in our world? Leverage? Money? Your guess is as good as mine. But he basically wants me to pick a side…”

“By you not finishing that sentence, I’m guessing it’s not the Alfero side he’s wanting you to stand on.”

“Smart and sexy. How did I get so lucky?”

Trace sighed and closed her hands. “My grandfather—”

“—is fine.” I knew we were alone, but… a person could never be too careful. “Drop it.”

I hated that I had to be rough with her. I hated that it was necessary in order to protect her. If she knew where he was, she was making herself a target. I knew, and that was enough.