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Elect(6)

By:Rachel Van Dyken


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.