Commander in Chief (White House #2)(43)

Beneath the flowing skirts of my dress, my thighs feel flowy, like I’m made of air.

I know that we’re being televised and I keep wanting to restrain myself from getting overly emotional, but my eyes keep stinging, simply being aware of his powerful presence beside mine.

When we face each other to deliver our vows, I’m sure my throat has caught fire and there’s no chance of swallowing at all.

His voice, so firm and commanding but with an edge of huskiness to it, kills me most of all.

“I, Matthew, take you, Charlotte, for my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part.”

My voice comes out steady but soft. “I, Charlotte, take you, Matthew, for my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part.”

The ceremony continues, and I memorize the way Matt stands there. He’s not one bit emotional. He simply looks certain. So certain of becoming my husband, making me his wife.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride, sir,” the priest says.

Matthew raises his brows at me as if saying you’re done for, now, and he tugs me closer, the sparkle in his eyes a full-on blaze as his gaze falls to my mouth.

He rubs my lower lip with his thumb, and he keeps his thumb beneath my lip as he frames my face in both hands and sets the most delicious, the most tender, and the most firm and confident kiss ever on my lips.

“Ladies and gentlemen. The President of the United States, and the First Lady!”

Beckett slaps Matt’s back and I embrace Kayla as cheers erupt. Then Matt leads us down the aisle, and I’m laughing because of the crowd and cheers and the camera flashes, so wild and blinding, and I love that I feel his smile against the back of my hand as he kisses my knuckles.





25





FOR LUCK





Matt



“Long life, President Hamilton!”

I pull her to the dance floor, and I want to devour this girl. I want to run my mouth all over that sweet, smiling face, kiss the lips she’s been gnawing nervously all day, slowly unbutton the buttons on the back of her dress and have my way with her.

I feel invincible, like I can do it all, have it all.

And as I twirl her and hear her laugh, then hear her sigh when I pull her back up against my chest, I know for certain—I want for nothing more.

I used to argue with my father, those last few years.

“Why would you marry a woman if you weren’t going to pay attention to her?”

“One day you’ll meet a woman, Matthew, that you’ll have to make yours.”

“I’m not that selfish.”

Well, Father, turns out I am. But I’m determined to make her happy. I won’t do what he did.

Once our dance is finished, she dances with her father, and as I pull my mother to the dance floor, I’m sure she’s struggling with the same thoughts I am. That he should have been here. That he’d have been as proud as Charlotte’s father looks tonight.

“I’m finding his killer,” I tell her.

“Matt, don’t. It’s pointless.”

“It’s not pointless,” I counter.

“Matthew, please . . .”

“Hey,” I stop her. “This is the United States of America. You don’t kill a man and get your happily ever after. Not here.”

“Oh, Matthew,” she says, forlorn. She glances at Charlotte. “Enjoy your bride. She loves you.”

“And I love her. I’ll do right by her.”

She purses her lips, fearful, worried. “You’re not your father. You may have chased the same dream, but you’re all of our better assets, all of our virtues combined.”

I laugh and kiss her cheek. “Thanks, Mother.”

“May I have the next dance?” my grandfather asks.

I smile at him and hand my mother over. “Thanks, Grandfather.”

“Congratulations, boy. She brings freshness to the house. I see what you’ve seen in her now.”

I glance at her, and she’s dancing with the children from the Children’s National hospital. She’s laughing as little Matthew Brems tries to twirl her around like I did, and I feel my lips curve into a smile. I plunge my hands into my pockets and watch her—I’ve never derived so much pleasure in watching anything in my life.

She makes me want to be the best man I can be. There aren’t that many people who do that for you. She also makes me want to drop to my knees and worship the living daylights out of her.

I see her keep stepping on the train of her gown, then excuse herself from the dance floor and whisper something to Stacey, who ushers her into the house.

“We never thought we’d see the day, Hamilton.”

“Hey, he’s your fucking president now.”

“Come on, he’s still Hamilton.”

I just smile. “Hey,” I greet Lucas and Oliver, old friends of mine. “Good of you to come.”

“Some speculated that it would be difficult to take People’s Sexiest Man Alive seriously for president. Look at you now.”