I glanced back at Trace and couldn’t take it anymore.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “I’m going to give you the damn speech.”
“Huh?” Her head snapped up. “What speech?”
“The speech.” I cleared my throat and reached across the table, engulfing her hand in mine. “Tracey, you’re perfect.”
“Chase?” She tried to pull her hand away but I gripped it harder.
“Choose me. Pick me,” I whispered. “I’m better for you… plus Nixon’s… too tall.”
“He’s too tall?”
“And buff. Do you really want a guy that looks that scary?” I shook my head. “Not gonna happen. So choose me. Be with me. Let me love you, let me protect you, let me honor you. Let me screw your brains out.”
“Ass.” She cracked a smile.
At least she smiled. I cleared my throat and released her hand. Walking over to her side of the table, I pulled her to her feet and tilted her chin toward me.
“I’ll keep you safe.”
“I’m not worried about my safety.”
“I’ll kiss you better.”
“Again, not worried about kisses.”
I sighed and with a shrug leaned in until our lips were inches from touching. Such sweet, painful agony. “Here’s the thing…”—my bottom lip grazed hers—“Kisses are exactly what you should be worried about.”
“Why?” She exhaled. Her top lip trembled as air escaped through her mouth.
“All it takes is one kiss. One kiss can save you. One kiss can ruin you for life. And my kisses? They better ruin you, Trace. Because if they don’t, then I’m clearly not doing a good enough job, and let’s be honest—I can’t really act to save my life, so my kisses are exactly what you should be worried about.” I trailed my finger over her lips. “Because my kisses are real—they mean a hell of a lot more than yours, and from here on out—I’m not holding back.”
I kissed her.
Not hard.
It probably didn’t even look like a kiss. Our lips touched for the briefest of moments, but in that short connection of our mouths meeting, of exchanging the same air, I made a choice.
To share my soul with her. To be her everything—even if it meant I was going to get nothing in return—because I’d been given permission to do so—I decided I was going to steal her. No longer was it betrayal—it was survival.
Trace covered her mouth with a shaking hand and closed her eyes. “We should probably go to class.”
Her cheeks were stained with a pretty blush. I nodded and grabbed her hand. I didn’t ask for permission, I didn’t need it. As far as I was concerned, she was mine to protect, mine to save, and mine to take. I was making it real—because to me it was.
“Chase, I—” Trace released my hand and then examined her own, as if it had somehow sprouted a face since coming into contact with my person. “I um…”
“Spit it out, Trace, or we’re going to be late,” I joked.
“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
Without thinking, I tugged her arm and walked toward one of the large oak trees.
“I’m not him.” I trapped her body with mine, noting how every time our bodies came into contact she literally trembled against me. “Look at me.”
Her eyes flickered open. Torn. She was torn, and she needed to be sure.
“You can do this,” I whispered hoarsely. “Because you love Nixon. Right?”
She looked away. Was that uncertainty speaking or just my own lame hope that she felt the exact same tug in the pit of her stomach that I did? Maybe it was ridiculous to wish for another person to feel as horrible as you did—but it’s what I wanted. I was sick for her, and I wanted her to feel the same way for me.
“Right,” she finally answered with a sigh. “But Chase… I feel like I’m betraying both of you. When I’m with him, I think of you. I wonder how you are, I worry about you, I love you—you know that. And when I’m with you… it hurts, it hurts so damn bad because it’s like I’m taking a knife to his heart every time it’s your touch instead of his.”
“Well damn,” I chuckled to myself. I mean, really, what else was I supposed to do? Cry?
“What?” She pushed against my chest. “This is serious. Why are you laughing?”
I shrugged. “It was a nice speech.”
“Thanks but—”
“I’m gonna beat it, so watch out.” I silenced her with my lips. She tasted like mint and coffee. Tenderly, I coaxed her mouth open with my tongue. Her mouth was like velvet—every single damn part of my body was hit with adrenaline—so hard in fact that I braced my hand against the tree, allowing my body to push against hers.