Commander in Chief (White House #2)(7)

He’s tugging on his cufflinks as he crosses the room, his agents already moving at the sides of the room, toward the same exit, and I set my wine aside. I’m telling myself it’s no good—that if I go there, it’ll just be to get my heart broken a thousand times again. But a part of me . . . just doesn’t care.

This is Matt.

I crossed an ocean to forget him, but I’d swim across thousands for this man.

My heart will always beat for him.

The heart that had to put a whole ocean between us for fear of seeking him out.

The heart that beats like a mad thing in my chest as I go meet him.

I follow instructions to the T. I spot Wilson outside the room, along with an army of other agents of the Secret Service.

Wilson whispers something into his receiver as he nods at me and reaches for the doorknob.

“Hi, Wilson.”

“Miss Wells.” He nods briefly as he opens the door. “The president is inside.”

“Thank you.”

I suppose my heart is whacking so loudly because I’m seeing him again, and also because I don’t know what to expect.

I walk into the room, the door shutting with a soft click behind me.

The air is sucked out of me as if by a vacuum.

A Hamilton vacuum.

It feels as if the whole room is just a backdrop for him. He’s so . . . imposing. Electrifying. I have eyes only for the tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered man at its center. His stance confident but easy, one hand inside the pocket of his slacks. The bow tie he wears is perfect. Even his hair is perfect, not a strand out of place, and I ache to run my fingers through it.

But inside his eyes there is a whole universe, dark and endless, an intensity in his gaze that pulls at every fiber of my being as he slowly drinks me in—every inch of me in this dress, from my eyes, to my nose, to my lips, my throat, my shoulders, my chest, my abdomen, down my legs.

It’s hard to speak. The way he’s looking at me is thawing my resolve to be strong, and I need to pull his attention away from stripping me naked with his eyes. “Being president looks good on you,” I can’t help but say, because as he undresses me with his eyes, I sort of get an eyeful of him too. His athletic, muscular frame and how the tux hugs his shoulders.

At my words, Matthew’s eyes leisurely trek back to my face to lock on mine again. He responds simply, his voice as deep as I remember, the tone firm and completely unapologetic. “You’re beautiful.”

I inhale sharply, his words like a punch at the very core of my being. Warmth blooms in my cheeks. It’s as if he’s lit me up, this man. And nothing I do can dampen the fire he ignites in me. “I didn’t go into this for a happily ever after,” I whisper.

“But you deserve a happily ever after.”

Matt is not smiling. His eyes are dark and somber as he continues to stare at me intently. “I’ve stayed away from you,” he says, taking a step, withdrawing his hand from his pocket.

“I’ve noticed.” My voice sounds raw, and I’m so overcome with his presence as he prowls around the room that I drop my eyes, my emotions all over the place. I raise them after a second and meet his unflinching gaze—which he hasn’t removed from me. Not for a second. “Is it getting easier for you?” I ask.

“Fuck no. It’s taking everything in me not to touch you right now.”

He drags a restless hand over his face, a tinge of regret in his voice as he stops a few feet away. “Being with me could hurt you—you know that’s why you wanted me to stay away. You know that if I’m with you, I’m going to hurt you even when that won’t be my intention. Not at all. I know that wasn’t my father’s intention when he hurt my mother for years.”

“Seeing you is hurting me now.”

He clamps his jaw, then reaches out to tilt my head back. “Look at me,” he says, his voice gruff and low, his dark gaze carving into me. “I can’t give you what you deserve. I can’t give you a house and I can’t even take you out on a normal date. But I want you. I fucking need you in my life, Charlotte.”

His touch is making my knees quake. I breathe, “I’ve accepted that I can’t have more and that’s okay with me. It’s not worth it. You’re doing more important things than being with me.”

He frowns thoughtfully as he curls his hand and drags his knuckles down my cheek, grazing my skin. “The bigger risk is you getting hurt because I can’t give you what you need. But I want to. I want to give you everything.”

I battle a tremor, lick my lips nervously, craving more of his touch, more words, more Matt. “That’s not why I came here. I want you to have the best presidency, and I wanted you to know I’m okay that this is over between us.”

“I don’t want this to be over.” His eyes glimmer mercilessly as he drops his hand and just looks down at me. “I’m fucking selfish. I want you all to myself. Jesus! Every day, I wonder what you’re doing, who you’re talking to, who you’re smiling at, and I want it to be me.”

“I don’t want this to be over either. But it has to, Matt.”

He shakes his head, smiling ruefully. “It doesn’t have to. Fuck trying to stay away from you. That’s not what I want. What do you want from me? Do you want this?”

“What’s ‘this’?” I ask uncertainly.