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Elect(67)

By:Rachel Van Dyken


“What are you asking?” She licked her lips and stared into my eyes. “What are you saying?”

I was going to do it.

Even though I knew he was alive.

I was going to ask.

Because she deserved to hear the question, regardless of what her answer might be.

“Choose me,” I whispered. “Because my heart? My soul? My damn existence? Has already spoken, and it wants you, and only you—forever.”

I felt like I’d just run a marathon without any food or water. My chest heaved with exertion as her eyes searched mine for a minute longer. Then her lips touched mine.

In a real kiss.

She was kissing me the way I’d always wanted to be kissed by her—she was consuming my darkness, and replacing it with her light. And in that instant I knew—nobody would ever compare to her. For my entire life I had been lost, and now I was found.

I molded my lips to hers and wrapped my arms around her. Every plane of her body was touching mine—causing me to burn with need for more of her. I growled low in my throat when our tongues collided. With a jerk, I was on top of her, pressing her down into the couch as sensations of her taste, and her lips, etched themselves onto my soul.

Everything was us. Nothing else existed except for her kiss, her taste, her hands on my body. I pushed my body harder against hers. The need to show her all my pent-up frustration, all my feelings, was so overwhelming I wasn’t sure I could control myself. I was bruising her mouth with mine and I didn’t care. She had to feel me. I needed her to feel me and only me.

Trace suddenly broke, or something broke—it was as if all the frustration, all of what she’d been holding on to—released. And it was like I could physically see Nixon pried from her existence.

In kissing me, she was letting him go.

But she felt too right for me to feel guilty. I knew that the very person she was letting go of was still breathing.

My knee hit the TV remote, turning it on and causing me to jump back and look into her eyes. “Trace?”

She reached for my head, pulling me into another hot kiss. Her mouth crashed against mine. I pulled away slightly. “Trace?”

“What?” she breathed.

Shit, I was going to be that guy, the one that just had to know the truth… “I need to know something.” I played with a piece of her fallen hair and dug my hand into the depths of it as it cascaded through my fingers.

She closed her eyes and rested her head on my hand. “Anything.”

“If he was here, if Nixon was here… would it still be me? Would you be letting me kiss you, and touch you? Would you want this?”

Trace’s eyes opened slowly and then a blush appeared on her face. She slowly licked her lips and squinted. “Chase, that’s not our reality.”

“I can see you letting him go—” I sighed. “You want to. I can feel it. But damn if my curiosity didn’t just ruin everything.” Shaking my head, I rose to my feet. “I still love you. It changes nothing. I guess…” Hell. “I guess I just want it all.”

Her eyes were sad when she lifted her head and sighed. “Me too, Chase. Me too.”

I held out my hand and pulled her to her feet and walked with her down the hall. We didn’t say anything as we both passed each other by and got ready for bed.

I turned the lights off and crawled into my makeshift bed on the floor, placing my gun underneath my pillow.

Yeah, no way was I going to sleep after all that kissing, talking—freaking bleeding my heart all over the place only to find out I’d always be second.

Trace’s breathing became heavy, but my damn eyes wouldn’t close.

About an hour later, as I was contemplating whether or not I should just stay up all night, she stirred.

“No! Don’t!” Thrashing in the bed, Trace let out a whimper. “Please, Nixon. No! No! Don’t leave! Don’t!”

My heart broke. I quickly jumped onto the bed and pulled her into my arms. “Shh, Trace, it’s okay. You’re safe. It’s okay.”

For a moment she tensed and then relaxed into me. “It’s not okay.” Her voice was weak and gravelly. “The only thing that would make it okay would be Nixon still living.” She turned in my arms and kissed me briefly across the lips. “But you’re right.”

It was my turn to tense.

Trace gripped the sides of my face with her hands. “It’s not fair to be second.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He’s gone. You’re here, Chase. You’ve always been here.”

I swallowed.

“You.” She placed a tender kiss on my mouth. “First, Chase. I want you to be first. I choose you.”