Elite (Eagle Elite) - By Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,32

and walked out.

“What the hell, Nixon? You like the godfather or something?” I laughed nervously. He joined in but his laugh was hollow.

“So, frozen yogurt?”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Because I’m hungry?”

I sighed. “Fine, but this isn’t a date and this isn’t babysitting detail. You know I can take care of myself, right? You can just take me back to the dorms. I’ve got a paper to write anyways and…” My voice trailed off the minute his hand touched mine. Confused, I looked down at our grasped hands. I didn’t even realize we had stepped onto an escalator until we hit the top floor. He didn’t release my hand. I was torn between wanting him to release it and wanting to smack him upside the head. He couldn’t just toy with my emotions like that. Make me feel important for no reason other than his own entertainment. Growing angrier by the second, I tried to pry my hand free, but his grip tightened.

“It isn’t safe, Trace,” he said in hushed tones. “Just trust me, okay?”

“Then why are we getting frozen yogurt?”

At that he smiled, but still refused to answer. I called false to his whole I’m hungry statement. Right, he’s hungry. He wasn’t the one going on a no-cow diet for the past week.

The food court was decent. Not many people were scattered around either, which I was thankful for. Our security detail basically circled us as we went into the small frozen yogurt shop and grabbed our cups.

“Okay, what do I do?” I held the cup in my hand and stared at him.

“Uh…” Nixon scratched his head. “You eat it?”

“The cup?”

“No, not the cup.” Nixon barked out a laugh. “You’re kidding right? You’ve never had self-serve?”

I swallowed and looked down feeling all kinds of stupid. “Look, just forget it.” I tried to shove the cup back in his hand, but instead he grabbed my wrist and flipped me around to face a giant contraption on the wall.

I could swear this guy’s body heat could start a fire if he so desired. “Read the flavors…” he ordered.

“Out loud?” I snapped.

“Hmm, I think I may like that.”

Okay, he was standing way too close to me. I could practically taste the minty gum he was chewing. Focus, Trace. Focus. I was just a plaything. Oh great, I was what rich boys resorted to when they were bored. Well, at least he hadn’t called me Farm Girl for a while. “New York Cheesecake, Blueberry, Chocolate Chip, Vanilla, Chocolate, Cake Batter…”

“Why do they sound better coming from your lips, do you think?” Nixon whispered in my ear.

Holy hell, I couldn’t feel my legs. The guy had me absolutely paralyzed.

“Want a sample?” He moved from behind me and grabbed a small pink spoon. Pink looked good on him, less scary, but not less hot. Unfortunately…

I briefly closed my eyes and imagined him in a Barbie minivan hoping to expel the way his masculinity made me want to strip down to nothing and throw caution to the wind.

“Open.” I opened my eyes and my mouth, since I really didn’t have a say in the matter. But then again, it was Nixon. I wasn’t given a vote. Ever. The frozen yogurt was cold and creamy against my tongue. “You like?”

Oh such an open-ended question. His eyes hooded as he dipped his head closer to mine, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his plump lips as they descended. His warm mouth was suddenly on mine and then like the little tease he was, it was gone.

“Sorry, I thought I saw some frozen yogurt, my mistake.” He laughed and backed away.

Ass. “Liar,” I said, breathlessly pushing past him. “So what, do I just pull on one of these thingies?”

“Well, I prefer the word stroke but—”

My face erupted into flames. I jerked my head away and managed to shakily add some frozen yogurt in the cup. I didn’t even look to see what flavor it was. I just knew I had to get the hell out of there before I allowed Nixon to get any closer.

The guy had already threatened to destroy me.

He proved he could do it.

So he was suffering from temporary insanity and being nice, all because of my necklace? Or was it because of what happened at school?

Lost in thought, I started putting toppings on my frozen yogurt.

“Wow, didn’t take you for the gummy worm type of girl.”

“Huh?”

Nixon pointed to the cup in my hand where I had somehow stacked five gummy worms on my yogurt. “Uh, yeah, I