Elite (Eagle Elite #1)(38)

I snuggled back into him further, trying to get comfortable.

He groaned low in his throat. “So not helping, Trace.”

“Oh.”

He brushed my hair aside and kissed my neck as his right hand dipped beneath my shirt. Tiny electrical shocks hummed through my body as his warm hand rested on my bare stomach.

“Nixon—”

“Please,” he whispered in my ear. “I just want to touch you.”

I fell asleep to Nixon, Student Body President, all-around bad boy extraordinaire’s hand burning against my skin.

It was the best night I’d ever had.





Chapter Sixteen


“You drool,” Nixon announced the minute I saw him for first period Monday morning. After everything that went down Friday night, I desperately needed some calm time. Monroe and I stayed in bed all day Saturday and watched movies.

She had family dinner Sunday, so I worked on what homework I did have, and then plunged into a vampire novel in order to lose the drama from my life.

It must have worked because like a total loser I fell asleep at seven at night and didn’t wake up until my alarm Monday morning.

Nixon hadn’t spoken to me since the night I fell asleep in his arms. I was beginning to think I was the one going crazy and nothing happened.

Tempted to flip him off. I merely mumbled thanks under my breath as I walked by his desk and sat down. One more week with him as our stand-in teacher, and then I would be home free!

“Movie day.” Nixon addressed the class, took roll, and then flipped off the lights as a documentary of early America began to play in black and white. Great.

“Hey,” he breathed in my ear.

“Crap!” My desk moved as I jumped away. I turned around and glared. “Are you trying to kill me?” I whispered.

Nixon smirked. “Not at all. Remember? I’m the one who keeps you safe. I’m the one that would die for you and all that? Why, want me to prove my loyalty?” His teasing smile made me want to smack him with my history book, or maybe my lit book. That one was heavier.

“I’m trying to watch the movie.” Oh gosh, nothing about that statement sounded remotely true. My voice even wavered into high-pitched liar pants territory.

“No, you’re not.” He sighed and leaned back. Every other kid was paying attention to the movie. Why was I the lucky one getting haunted by the gangster of Christmas present?

“Yes. I am.” Flipping my hair, I turned back around and focused on the movie about America. Ah Indians, focus on the Cherokees, Trace.

A loud yawn interrupted me, followed by two arms that stretched so far beyond the desk behind me that they practically pulled me back with them.

Letting out a heavy sigh I looked heavenward and shook my head. Ten minutes later Nixon had somehow maneuvered his hands underneath my mop of hair, and was in the process of massaging my neck.

In class being massaged by the substitute teacher. So not how I planned my second week of school going.

But dang, if my neck wasn’t sore. I leaned heavily against his hand as he pushed against the tight muscles, and then I felt his other hand move beneath my shirt. No, no he wasn’t. No. No.

One strategic sinful hand massaged while the other one dove beneath my shirt. If he was going to cop a feel, his balls would be on the opposite end of my pencil.

Whatever his other hand was doing, it felt good. He had moved down my back and was playing with the fastener on my bra. I tried to wiggle away. He laughed, much to my horror, so I stayed put.

“Hmm, I took you for more of a comfortable type of girl. Is this lace?” His lips tickled my ear.

Unable to use words, because clearly I’d forgotten an alphabet existed, I nodded.

“It’s sexy.”

Heat pooled in my stomach as his lips touched my ear again, this time his teeth came out and tugged slightly on my ear almost making me gasp. His hand shot out from my shirt as someone turned around.

Great, now it looked like political history turned me on.

That’s just what I needed to be spread around the school.

New girl moos in front of student body and orgasms during Freshman Politics.

Awesome.

I felt my face heat with embarrassment as a guy from class looked from me to Nixon and then back to me.

Nixon must have done something scary from behind me because the guy’s eyes widened and then he turned around, his back ramrod straight.

I wasn’t sure if I was irritated that Nixon kept his hands off me throughout the rest of class, or excited. By the time class ended a half hour later, the jury was still out.

After stuffing my politics book into my new Prada bag, I yawned and made my way toward the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Nixon asked the minute my toe stepped over the threshold of the door.

“To class?” I refused to turn around, and why the heck was I always last? My hand moved to my cross necklace. It had become one of those things I did when I was nervous. I grabbed the necklace and rubbed the cross. Great, now I need supernatural power just to be in the same room as Nixon.

“Come here.”

“I didn’t hear please.” I smirked, but still didn’t turn around.

His breath fanned my neck. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw his muscle arms lean on the doorframe as he slowly closed the door. “Please.”