Commander in Chief (White House #2)(29)

I start to shake nervously, but he pulls me to him and onto the dance floor.

I’m panicked, and also overcome with little bubbles of excitement swimming in my veins. We start dancing. Everything that is him envelops me as cameras flash and people watch him move me around the dance floor.

He holds me very close, and protectively. My body comes alive at the touch. Arousal swims in my veins. It’s not the appropriate sentiment to feel here, dancing with the president, but I can’t help it. I want him close. I want to feel him inside me. I want him to remind me that of all the women fawning over him, I’m the one he loves—but at the same time, I want to pull away, too afraid of what we’re doing. Of coming out into the light for everyone to know. To see. That Matt and I . . .

“This isn’t a good idea,” I breathe, aware of people watching with awe and excitement.

“I don’t care.”

“Matt—Mr. President,” I protest, hoping that professionalism will change the proprietary look in his eyes. I’m glancing around for an escape route even though I can barely move my legs.

Our bodies brush as we dance, his legs hard and grazing the sides of mine, his biceps bulging around me as the song swarms around us.

He simply smiles.

“You once said you might not mind being by the president’s side,” he says. My libido goes crazy under that smile. His words husky, seducing me. The proximity of his mouth to my earlobe making my heart go haywire.

“That was before,” I whisper worriedly.

He captures my gaze with his powerful one. “Before you fell in love with me, or after?”

We hold each other’s gazes as the song finishes.

“Before you did this—everyone is looking,” I say, panicked.

“Good.”

He’s smiling as he dips me backward for the song’s finale and crushes his mouth to mine, with a little bit of tongue.



“I cannot believe you did that,” I tell him on our way back.

“Can you not?” he asks, laughing softly.

“If I were to go online right now, I bet there are a thousand and one rumors, stories, and the like circulating.”

“I am not one bit interested in what they are. Neither should you be.” He tugs me forward. “We’re adults. You’re my first lady. We can be together, Charlotte. We are, and we need to face up to the music, regardless of the tune. We will get through this.”

There’s a silence. Matt holds my face and pulls it up, smiling. “All they know for a fact is that I kissed you. The message implied is clear—you’re mine. I’m dating you, and you’re dating me. Which reminds me, I want to take you out. I’ve been jealous just thinking of you alone with anyone else. I get jealous of every man out there who can be with you, hold your hand and kiss your face. Now it’s me . . .” He presses his lips to mine.

“You don’t have anything to be jealous of,” I scoff.

He grabs me by the hips and lifts me to his lap, his eyes blazing with heat and possessiveness.

“Neither do you. I saw you tonight. You were flushed, jealous of the women greeting me.”

I bite down on my lip. “You’re . . . their absolute fantasy. Of course I’m jealous. You’re their fantasy and mine.”

He looks at me biting my lip, and I release it. “You seem to be ignorant of the fact that I’m taken. I’ve been taken for quite some time.”

Leaning to smooth his tongue over the lip I bit, Matt slides his hand under the skirt of my dress, touching the inside of my thighs with his fingertips. My breath snags in my throat when he caresses the damp spot in my panties.

His eyes flash when he realizes I’m wet.

“Lift your dress. I want to feel more of you.”

I start to lift my dress and part my legs as he presses his lips to mine, opening them so he can rub his tongue over mine as he eases one finger inside me.

“God, you’re addictive. Who do you want here, beautiful?” he groans, finding me soaked inside.

I moan into his mouth and link my arms around his neck, thrusting my hips out for his touch.

“You.”

“Who does this belong to?” He dips his tongue into my mouth and moves his finger in and out, in and out, driving me crazy. Crazy with jealousy, with desire, with want.

“You.”

“That’s right.” He smothers my moans with his mouth.





17





A WARNING, PLEASE





Matt



Lola slaps a newspaper on my desk the next morning. The headline reads, KISS OF THE AGES: PRESIDENT HAMILTON AND THE FIRST LADY STUN GUESTS WITH A PUBLIC KISS FOR THE HISTORY BOOKS!

“We need to talk about Charlotte.”

“No, we don’t.”

“We’ve created a million new jobs with your new clean energy program and it’s been overshadowed by your little stunt.” She stutters when she realizes what she’s said. “Mr. President. Respectfully.” She nods. “You could’ve warned me,” she hisses.

“No, Lola, I couldn’t.” I lean back and link my fingers behind my head. “The fact that our million jobs didn’t make the front-page news doesn’t diminish the fact that we are creating new employment. That number will look like kiddie play in a couple more months. Relax.” I lick my thumb and flip through one of the pages on my desk.