Commander in Chief (White House #2)(12)

“All right then.” He smiles his mercurial smile, one that makes his chiseled face look even more handsome.

I wring my hands. “I never slept with you to get a position in the White House.”

“I know. I need trustworthy people on my team, and I trust you.”

“Thank you, Mr. President.”

“Matt,” he says softly.

I smile, but I can’t say it.

“I rather like the sound of Mr. President on your lips.” His smile curves a bit more. “But I miss hearing you say my name.”

“Don’t,” I whisper. “Matt.”

“Come here, baby.” He pats his side.

I swallow, rising to my feet and crossing the room to take a seat beside him.

He reaches out and slips his fingers into the fall of my hair at the back of my neck, seizing me gently as his dark gaze holds mine in its grip, his forehead to mine. “I’ll give you time to get used to all this, but I want to make it clear that you’re still mine. You never stopped being mine, and you never will,” he says.

A promise.

A promise I’m afraid to believe for fear of losing him—never really having him, like before.

I inhale deeply, breathing him in, letting everything Matt surround me, when I feel him tug me closer and brush my lips with his.

I gasp, and Matt flicks his tongue out to taste me.

I groan. Matt groans too and slides his arm around me, taking my mouth fiercely. He pours every ounce of fire into that kiss—his lips the flame, his tongue the accelerant, and I feel the burn. I feel the burn at the tips of my nipples, my fingers, my toes. At the center of my being.

I’m breathing in fast, shallow breaths when we ease apart. “What are we doing here?” I ask, breathless.

He frowns. “Are you asking me or are you asking yourself?”

“Myself. I think. Because I can’t stay away from you.”

“I can’t stay away from you either.”

“We said slow.”

“This . . . is slow.” He cups my face and kisses me again, his tongue plunging into my mouth. “I missed you. See, two months without you was two months too long. I don’t want another day where I don’t see this face. That smile. It has to be here somewhere.” He peers down at my lips, tugging the corners with his thumbs.

“Matt, stop.”

He smiles as I laugh softly—and his smile begins to fade.

The way he stares at my mouth makes me tremble deep inside.

A quiet intensity creeps into his eyes—and they blaze with heat. With emotion. With a possessiveness I’ve never, ever seen there to this degree. Until now. Sixty-eight days after seeing him last.

Sixty-eight days where I thought I couldn’t even breathe knowing I’d lost him. That I could never, ever have him.

My sex ripples.

I groan and I pull him close as he gathers me in his arms.

His mouth is hot and wet and more possessive than it’s ever been, fitting perfectly over mine.

He pulls me closer. I’m shivering on his lap, wanting him to never take his mouth away.

I’m a normal girl. One who fell in love when she shouldn’t have. I’m a daughter, a friend, a working girl. I know my name, somewhere in the back of my mind, but I can’t really remember it. Not now, when the heat of his mouth is working over mine.

We’re starved for each other. My nails sink into the muscles of his back.

Matt’s body shifts beneath me, hard, as he runs his hands over my body as if memorizing every contour, squeezing and shaping my every muscle.

“I want you in the White House. I want you wherever I am.” He’s breathing hard, his voice thick. I’m panting as I kiss his jaw, missing this, missing him.

“I want you coming all over the president’s cock, you little wanton. You delicious little kitten, huh.”

He palms my sex, stroking a finger along my opening over the fabric of my slacks. I mewl softly, grabbing his hard shoulders for support. “Don’t . . .” I warm as pleasure shoots across my body—through every nerve and muscle and atom. “I want you . . . too much . . .” A groan leaves me.

He smiles and kisses me a little harder and doesn’t stop. He rubs me over my slacks a little faster. I clutch my arms tighter around his neck and push my hips up to his hand, losing it.

“Who are you coming for? Huh? Tell me now,” he presses.

I tell him who.

The president of the United States.

My love.





5





PRESS CONFERENCE





Charlotte



There’s excitement in the air of the White House press room as Matt addresses the reporters. Several dozen flashes snap as he stands at the podium.

“I realize this is a little unorthodox. Usually the president of the United States is married, which I’m not, or has a close family member acting as first lady; in my case that also won’t be the case. I’ve asked a woman whom I’ve come to deeply respect and admire for many reasons—among them, her passion for this country that equals mine, and a heart as big as that smile she’s now wearing. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the Acting First Lady of the United States of America, Charlotte Wells.”

Breathe, breathe, breathe.