Commander in Chief (White House #2)(21)

He crosses the room, reaching out to take my arm and help me to my feet. One tug and he’s flattened me against the flat wall of his chest. Another tug on my loose hair yanks my head back. The gasp that leaves me only serves to part my lips—and he’s there. His lips are there, brushing mine, ever so exquisitely. His breath trickling warmly into my mouth.

“I like the gift,” he says, fingering the bow at the top of my nightie, “though I haven’t opened it entirely yet.”

He tugs the bow, releasing it. Desire for him thrums in my veins.

“The fact that I’m nearly naked doesn’t mean that I’m ready to sleep with you.”

He parts the baby doll open. “The fact that I asked you to my room doesn’t mean I’ve been thinking about you.”

But I want him to think of me. Because I can’t stop thinking about him. I slide my hands down the front of his shirt. “No?” I rock my hips against him.

He tugs the fabric of my nightie off one shoulder. “No.” He leans down, lips whisking across the curve of said shoulder.

It’s amazing what he does to me.

He touches me and all my senses attune to the spot he’s touching.

His scent intoxicates me and his lips are the wickedest thing I’ve ever encountered. My eyes drift shut, and I angle my head back, gripping his hair. It’s slicked back when he’s in public, but I love how it gets spiky when he’s been raking his fingers through it.

I pull on it and bring his head up and he chuckles softly, grabs my face in one hand, and presses his mouth firmly—firmly, decidedly—on mine.

I’m in a free fall, and his eyes are shining with lust and yearning before he takes my mouth in a harder kiss. Our tongues tangle, his tongue strong, wet, thirsty. I can’t stop myself from opening his jacket, feeling his muscles under his shirt. Perfectly delineated.

Every time we kiss feels like the first time, but this time feels like it’s the only time.

As I unbutton his shirt and see the flag pin on his jacket, I am reminded of what a huge difference he’s making, how small I am compared to the millions of people whose lives he’s affecting.

“Matt, I may not have foreseen that people could hear . . .”

“I don’t see anyone here but you and me,” he rasps, and boy is he really looking at me.

I’ve got so much desire I’m trembling.

He growls as if he’s thinking the same thing, lifts me, and his hands are grabbing my ass. My hands instantly curl around his shoulders.

“God, you little sexpot, you hot little thing . . . I can’t get enough of you.” He bites and tugs my lip, then fits his mouth perfectly to mine again. He smells delicious. Of cologne and him, and my stomach tumbles with butterflies as he tugs and rips off my thong.

“Matt,” I say, startled.

“What?” He grins, pressing me against the wall, bracing me there so he can ease his hand between us to caress my bare sex between our bodies.

I groan, pushing my hips against him. He grabs my breast and squeezes my nipple. He sucks it, making me shiver.

“Oh god.”

“I can’t do the first lady against the wall, where are my manners?”

“Oh god, just do me.” I grab his hair and pull his face to mine, kissing his jaw as he carries me to bed and lays me down on the center, leaning over me.

I shiver beneath his warm hand trailing along my tummy.

His eyes coast over me, taking me in. His lips graze across mine again, warm and silky. I part my lips and he dips his tongue inside. He groans and allows our tongues to play for a while as his hands wander up and down my curves, slowly, in no hurry, as if he can command time to stop for us and we now have all the time in the world.

He eases back to remove his shirt and looks at me.

“God, you belong in my bed. Look at you.”

I swallow, part laughing and part groaning.

I’m desperate for Matt, but I’m nervous to have sex with him again. I’m nervous because it means so much, it feels so gargantuan. He knows how I feel about him and I’ve been waiting for this moment for so many lonely nights, missing him. It’s the first time we’re together after he’s said he loves me.

“I’m nervous,” I breathe.

Standing back calmly, he slowly shrugs off his shirt, revealing those glorious muscles of his. “Why are you nervous?”

“It’s just that . . . you’re the president. I feel . . .”

“Don’t be nervous. I’m still the same.” Shirtless in his slacks, he reaches out to spread my arms up over my head and trace his hands down my sides.

I rock my hips, moaning.

He inhales a long breath, his eyes catching mine. “So beautiful.” He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me forward, seeming to lose control, crushing my lips beneath his so hard and with such passion my head is spinning.

I grab him for support and arch up against him, my breasts aching as I rub my fingers along the back of his strong neck.

Matt unbuckles his belt and unzips, then he strips off his pants, and I gasp, his hardness springing free.

As he spreads his large body over me, I groan and reach for him, out of control, and Matt leans his head to my breasts and the hardened tips of my nipples, sticking his tongue out to lave one, then the other, slowly circling his tongue around the peaks. He suctions, slipping his hand between my legs, into my opening. His fingers move inside me, first one, then two, and I arch and jerk from the pleasure.