Incumbent(76)

I needed to tell Ben before I made a statement about pulling out of the race, so I called him. He understood and was happy for me. He was a great campaign manager and knew the job well; I was sure he’d land a great job helping someone else.

After I made a light supper, I put on some music as Lucy and I relaxed on the couch, just like we had when we were at her home that first night.

Pulling her close, I said, “Remember when you couldn’t keep your hands off of me?”

When her face reddened, I smiled. I loved that I could make her blush.

“You looked so good,” she said shyly, “and the way your muscles felt underneath my fingers made me swoon.”

I chuckled. “Did you say ‘swoon’?”

“Yes, you’re very swoony.”

“Ms. Washburn, is that even a word?”

“It is now.”

Before I could say any more, Lenny Kravitz’s “American Woman” began to play. Lucy stood and faced me with a wicked gleam in her eye that I hadn’t seen before. Just as I was about to get up, she held up her index finger, and I froze.

She lifted her hair and moved her hips in a circular motion. Then she teasingly unbuttoned her dress painstakingly slowly, one small button at a time . . . teasing me. My dick stirred in my dress pants as it stiffened. She turned and looked back at me through her lashes as she shimmied her dress over the curve of her ass. When it fell to the floor, I practically needed to sit on my hands not to reach out and grab her.

Then it dawned on me. This was Lucy’s stripper song, and I wasn’t about to stop the show.

Her fingers slid from the top of her panties to the swell of her breasts as she caressed her body. But when she slipped her index finger into her mouth and wrapped her tongue around it, I almost came in my pants.

“You’re killing me,” I said on a groan.

Flirtatiously she asked, “Well, I wouldn’t want to do that now, would I?”

Right when I was about to grab her, she straddled my lap and gyrated on my hardened shaft—back and forth, and around and around. Her hands threaded in my hair as she brought her lips to mine.

“Mmm. You feel so good, Senator Prescott.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood, forcing her to wrap her legs around my waist to hold on, and carried her to my bedroom. When I laid her down on the bed, her half-lidded eyes raked over my body. Yes, she was definitely trying to kill me.

I’d never taken my clothes off so fast in all my life as I said, “I need you now, Lucy.”

She shed her panties and bra as I grabbed a condom from the side table and sheathed myself. When I lowered my hand between her legs, she groaned, and I slid one finger in her before adding another.

“All of you, Drake. I need all of you.”

“I’m all yours.”

I positioned myself between her splayed legs and thrust into her. We moved in unison until our orgasms claimed us.

As we lay there, trying to catch our breath, I pulled her close. “Someday you’re going to be Mrs. Prescott.”

“Is that a proposal?”

“What if it was?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious?”

I’d never been more serious about anything in my life. I had never imagined proposing while we were joined in the most intimate way possible and without a ring, but it was how I felt. I needed to make her mine in every way possible.

“Yes, I’m serious.”

She smiled. “I’d love to be your wife.”

I brought my lips down to hers. When we broke apart, her eyes sparkled.

“One more thing, Lucy.”

“Yes?”

“Promise me that you’ll never listen to “American Woman” unless I’m with you.”

The cutest laugh escaped her. “I promise. Only for you . . . always you.”





EPILOGUE


Lucy



Drake and I headed to his parents’ home for Sunday dinner. The entire family was going to be there, including Dane. Drake wanted to hold off telling the family we were engaged until we were all together, which drove me nuts, because every day since he proposed, I’d wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

Happiness consumed me as I look out the car’s window to see everything so green and alive with summer. So much had changed in the last couple of months. I glanced down at the one-carat cushion-cut diamond engagement ring Drake gave me, realizing that I truly loved my life, which wasn’t something I’d ever said before, much less thought of.

Freedom was the word that came to mind as I thought of how I was living my life. Abigail Winston was finally free. For years, I’d been afraid of the truth coming out. I was always looking over my shoulder, afraid someone from my past might recognize me, and it was a heavy burden to carry. But now that my history was out in the open, I was free to be me—Lucy Washburn, soon to be Lucy Prescott.

For so many years, I thought I knew who I was and what I wanted; after all, I did create the person I’d become. But that perception became muddled, unclear and unfocused, and I didn’t even know it. But when I met Drake, it was as if a dark cloud shifted and my world was brighter. Things became clear, thanks to him. What I thought was important actually wasn’t, and the fairy tale I never dared dream of became a reality.