Commander in Chief (White House #2)(27)

I meet his gaze. “It feels completely surreal.”

His lips curl, and he looks at me a moment more. “Let’s come out as a couple tonight.”

The low but firm words trigger a tremor down my spine.

I remember hundreds of nights during the campaign, sleepless, wanting him.

I remember that he won. That I went to Europe. That I’m living in the White House with him, more in love than ever. And that we’re taking it slow.

Slow.

And utterly, exquisitely slowly, Matt slips his hand under the fall of my hair and places a kiss on my forehead, then my mouth. It’s a soft kiss, fleeting, but it leaves a burning sensation behind when he eases back.

He looks at my kissed lips with a male pride and not one bit of apology. “I’m tired of keeping you in the shadows. I want everyone to know that you’re mine. But I know what I’m asking is for you to become even more public, and possibly under scrutiny. I will wait for as long as we need to, but I’m ready to move this forward, Charlotte.”

I swallow.

“I want that more than anything,” I breathe.

He slips his hand over the curve of my shoulder, touching my bare skin as we ride to the event.

“I just had this hope that . . . I’d prove myself as a first lady first, before we announced our relationship to the world. I’m not so sure what I want to do anymore.” I meet his gaze.

There’s something predatory about the way he’s looking at me.

“But I’ve always wanted to just be with you. Without the concerns and the hiding,” I admit.

“So. Be with me.”

The smoldering flame in his eyes warms me to my core, and I hear myself say, “It seems to me that if we took it slow, there’s a better chance for the citizens to adjust to the idea of you having a girlfriend in the White House.”

“The speculations are running amok already. Half the country will be worried you distract me—the other half will be thrilled. It doesn’t matter. I want you. I want you indefinitely—and eventually, baby”—he takes my chin—“you’re going to need to own up to the fact that the man you’re in love with is the president, and you helped put me here.”

I laugh, and he smiles too.

His hot gaze caresses me and heats me down to the marrow of my bones. “When we can’t be together, I miss the way you smell. The way you look. The way you feel.” His lips curl, and he cups my face in his warm hands and leans to whisper in my ear, “I’m blown away by you. And so will every person who looks at you tonight. Not that I’m too happy about that.”

I’m blushing head to toe, so thoroughly I don’t even know what to do with myself. “You’re so forward, Mr. President.”

He laughs, then releases a deep groan and ducks close to my ear. “Think about what I said. Let’s talk about your concerns this weekend.”

I swallow again. “That sounds good.”

He nods, releasing me only when we are seconds away from arriving at the fundraiser.

The state car comes to a stop, and I feel queasy from the stress of my first public appearance. Matt gets out of the car, and I hear the people waiting outside. Some gasp, others sort of whisper, and then the press just starts to roar.

“PRESIDENT HAMILTON! MR. PRESIDENT!”

Matt looks into the car and extends his hand to help me out.

Overwhelming doesn’t cover it. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s our first night out, or if things will always be like this, but I paste a smile on my face even though the strongest urge I have right now is to avoid the cameras. I take his hand for support, slipping my fingers into his as I set my feet on the sidewalk and stand, blinded by the flashes. I slip my arm into the crook of Matt’s and feel him tuck it even tighter as he guides me inside.



A line of people eager to greet him instantly forms inside the ballroom.

I stand by his side, meeting friends of his, celebrities.

Hearing them gush over Matt is amusing, and I’m mind-blown by how easily he steps into his president role—how easily he owns it.

The way he smiles at the people, sometimes slaps a man’s back as they shake hands, shows how accessible he is, how open, human, and honest. Even in a tux, you can’t miss the ripple of muscle under his jacket and shirt as he moves, shakes hands, is greeted by everyone in the room. It makes the very tips of my breasts sort of ache against the fabric of my dress. And wearing a dress that he sent for me to wear makes me feel so sexy, as if he’s claiming me somehow. After the conversation that we had in the car, knowing that he wants to move forward and make this official causes a fire between my legs whenever our eyes meet.

Stifling a hot little shiver, I make my legs move around and mingle, making myself accessible too, trying to tell myself this is how my mother would do it. This is how Matthew’s mother would do it.

I greet ambassadors, congressmen, senators.

From across the room, Matt watches me, and I can see the admiration in his eyes as I work the room.

At some point during the first hour, I feel him advance, passing me, his shoulder brushing mine, and he tells me, “Look at you work it,” his voice rough with desire.

“I know this game’s rules,” I say flippantly.

He raises his brows. “Do you? Baby, I invented this game.” And just as he leaves to greet an incoming crowd, he whispers in my ear, “I’d kiss you right now, but like I’ve said before, I don’t do things half-ass, especially my woman.”