“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.
Chapter Twenty
Chase
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.