Commander in Chief (White House #2)(67)

“I don’t want you to ever feel like I’m putting you and Matty in second place,” he says, scrutinizing my face closely, as if searching for the answer. “If for any reason it’s crossed your mind, I want you to know that I will choose you both and end it right here.”

“No! You can’t!” I protest.

I shift forward, scowling at him as I set my glass aside, mirroring his position.

I inhale passionately, then exhale and scowl at him. “Although I am just one citizen among millions, I have had the honor of knowing firsthand what you bring to the table. Integrity. Honesty.”

I try not to get emotional, but suddenly putting into context all that he has done for nearly four years makes it difficult.

“I know in my heart of hearts that no other candidate will offer this, bring this . . . or not quite like you. You are of us. All of us. I have you forever, but as a citizen I’d have you as president for just four more years. Make them count. My heart is yours and my vote is yours. Don’t deny me all you have to give, or four more years of having this . . . honor . . . of being by your side while you’re doing what you were meant to do.” I add, “Please.”

He smiles when I end up breathless after my pleas.

He slowly sets his glass aside and comes to his feet. He begins walking around the table, then pulls me to my feet as he clenches his jaw, grabs me by the back of the head, and kisses me. Long and with tongue. “Thank you. I love you. You know that,” he hisses, fierce, his forehead against mine, his eyes holding mine deliciously captive.

“Yes,” I say, my toes curling the way they do every time he looks at me like that. “But I’m still unsure of how much. Immeasurably, you’ve said. What is that, even?”

His eyes trace every inch of my face. “It means there’s no metric system, no measurement, there’s no beginning to it, and no end.”

I am completely breathless, and he smiles, noticing that I’m panting, and kisses me again, long and slow. “That’s how much,” he rasps against my mouth, patting my butt.

We head to the Lincoln Bedroom, where he dials a number through the White House secure lines.

“Carlisle.” He speaks the name and looking at me with a smile, clicks the button to put the call on speaker. “I need you and Hessler.”

“I told my heart condition to fuck off. That I wasn’t going to die anytime soon because I was fucking waiting for this call.” I can hear the grin in Carlisle’s voice, and Matt and I smile at each other.

“It’s done then,” I tell Matt when he hangs up. I feel giddy. “There’s no way anyone stands a chance.”

He shrugs and gets ready for bed, unbuttoning his shirt. “You never know. Better men have lost.”

“Yes, but great countries are led by the greatest people—and there aren’t many quite like you,” I say as I pluck off my diamond earrings.

When I slide naked under the covers with him, I nearly gasp as the warmth of his flesh touches mine.

“Are you ready to hit the trail, wife?” he asks, leaning over me, gazing down at me as he brushes my red hair behind my face.

“Maybe.” I grin, then decide to tease him with my favorite slogan from his last campaign. Born for this. “Then again, maybe I was born for it.”

“No, baby,” he’s quick to assure. “You were born for me.” And his mouth swallows any protest I might have uttered. Which, in fact, would have been none.





42





IT’S ON





Matt



I’m on a roll, and it’s not even 10 a.m.

After my daily briefing, hearing what everyone is doing around the world, and making a few calls, I’m in the press room.

I’m ripping it. The pride, anticipation, and adrenaline coursing through my veins already, my intention, desire, and determination to keep my seat and continue serving fueling my every word.

“I must admit”—I look at everyone in the press room—“being president is a tough job. Sleepless nights, tough calls, even looking at your faces every day,” I say, mocking the press a bit over their complete obsession with me and my wife. “Man. It’s not a job to be taken lightly.” I whistle, shaking my head as they laugh. “I’ve known that since my father took office. It took a toll on our family. I’ve tried to let it take the least possible toll on mine. Because, you see . . .”

I pause, meeting reporters eye to eye.

“If I don’t build a better tomorrow for this family I love so much—for this country I love so much—then who will? If I don’t ensure and fight for their safety, their rights, who will? If I deny my citizens my every effort, I deny my family, too. I do not want to fail any of you. This tough job has taught me how to be tougher, how to be smarter, and how to be a diplomat, but it never becomes easier. Then again, I wouldn’t want easy. Where’s the fun in that?”

This is met with laughs.

“Thank you for these four years. For your belief in me. If you will allow it, and the citizenship wishes it—let’s make it eight. I am formally announcing my intention”—my eyes meet Charlotte’s, and I fucking want to kiss the smile she wears right now—“to run for reelection, and continue to be honored as the president of the United States of America.”