Commander in Chief
Page 8

I’m flushing. Head to toe.
He sets his elbows on his knees as he shifts forward. “I hope you know, baby, asking you to act as first lady is not only an excuse for me to see you. I believe you have a lot to offer our citizens. Regardless of our relationship, I want you to have a salary, and you will be directly compensated for your time by me,” Matt says.
“What? I couldn’t possibly.” I shake my head. “I don’t want a salary.”
“Everyone working here has a salary—except the first lady. Is that fair?” He grins.
“I wasn’t elected to office.”
“Not everyone here was elected.”
I look around, awed by the sumptuous surroundings, the plush upholstered couch beneath me, and I glance at Matt. “I get to do what I most want, sleep safe in the grandest home in the land,” close to you, I don’t add. “I don’t want a salary. If you insist, then we can donate it to Women of the World, help women who can’t find jobs get on their feet.”
“All right then.” He smiles his mercurial smile, one that makes his chiseled face look even more handsome.
I wring my hands. “I never slept with you to get a position in the White House.”
“I know. I need trustworthy people on my team, and I trust you.”
“Thank you, Mr. President.”
“Matt,” he says softly.
I smile, but I can’t say it.
“I rather like the sound of Mr. President on your lips.” His smile curves a bit more. “But I miss hearing you say my name.”
“Don’t,” I whisper. “Matt.”
“Come here, baby.” He pats his side.
I swallow, rising to my feet and crossing the room to take a seat beside him.
He reaches out and slips his fingers into the fall of my hair at the back of my neck, seizing me gently as his dark gaze holds mine in its grip, his forehead to mine. “I’ll give you time to get used to all this, but I want to make it clear that you’re still mine. You never stopped being mine, and you never will,” he says.
A promise.
A promise I’m afraid to believe for fear of losing him—never really having him, like before.
I inhale deeply, breathing him in, letting everything Matt surround me, when I feel him tug me closer and brush my lips with his.
I gasp, and Matt flicks his tongue out to taste me.
I groan. Matt groans too and slides his arm around me, taking my mouth fiercely. He pours every ounce of fire into that kiss—his lips the flame, his tongue the accelerant, and I feel the burn. I feel the burn at the tips of my nipples, my fingers, my toes. At the center of my being.
I’m breathing in fast, shallow breaths when we ease apart. “What are we doing here?” I ask, breathless.
He frowns. “Are you asking me or are you asking yourself?”
“Myself. I think. Because I can’t stay away from you.”
“I can’t stay away from you either.”
“We said slow.”
“This . . . is slow.” He cups my face and kisses me again, his tongue plunging into my mouth. “I missed you. See, two months without you was two months too long. I don’t want another day where I don’t see this face. That smile. It has to be here somewhere.” He peers down at my lips, tugging the corners with his thumbs.
“Matt, stop.”
He smiles as I laugh softly—and his smile begins to fade.
The way he stares at my mouth makes me tremble deep inside.
A quiet intensity creeps into his eyes—and they blaze with heat. With emotion. With a possessiveness I’ve never, ever seen there to this degree. Until now. Sixty-eight days after seeing him last.
Sixty-eight days where I thought I couldn’t even breathe knowing I’d lost him. That I could never, ever have him.
My sex ripples.
I groan and I pull him close as he gathers me in his arms.
His mouth is hot and wet and more possessive than it’s ever been, fitting perfectly over mine.
He pulls me closer. I’m shivering on his lap, wanting him to never take his mouth away.
I’m a normal girl. One who fell in love when she shouldn’t have. I’m a daughter, a friend, a working girl. I know my name, somewhere in the back of my mind, but I can’t really remember it. Not now, when the heat of his mouth is working over mine.
We’re starved for each other. My nails sink into the muscles of his back.
Matt’s body shifts beneath me, hard, as he runs his hands over my body as if memorizing every contour, squeezing and shaping my every muscle.
“I want you in the White House. I want you wherever I am.” He’s breathing hard, his voice thick. I’m panting as I kiss his jaw, missing this, missing him.
“I want you coming all over the president’s cock, you little wanton. You delicious little kitten, huh.”
He palms my sex, stroking a finger along my opening over the fabric of my slacks. I mewl softly, grabbing his hard shoulders for support. “Don’t . . .” I warm as pleasure shoots across my body—through every nerve and muscle and atom. “I want you . . . too much . . .” A groan leaves me.
He smiles and kisses me a little harder and doesn’t stop. He rubs me over my slacks a little faster. I clutch my arms tighter around his neck and push my hips up to his hand, losing it.
“Who are you coming for? Huh? Tell me now,” he presses.
I tell him who.
The president of the United States.
My love.
5
PRESS CONFERENCE
Charlotte
There’s excitement in the air of the White House press room as Matt addresses the reporters. Several dozen flashes snap as he stands at the podium.
“I realize this is a little unorthodox. Usually the president of the United States is married, which I’m not, or has a close family member acting as first lady; in my case that also won’t be the case. I’ve asked a woman whom I’ve come to deeply respect and admire for many reasons—among them, her passion for this country that equals mine, and a heart as big as that smile she’s now wearing. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the Acting First Lady of the United States of America, Charlotte Wells.”
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
Matt motions me to the podium.
Cameras keep snapping. I marvel that I can walk—with Matt’s direct gaze on me, with the whole room’s eyes on me. I marvel how I can act composed. How I can manage to open my mouth and say what I rehearsed with Lola, the press secretary, just an hour ago.
“Thank you, Mr. President.” I inhale his scent as he passes me, and I cling to it for strength. I make eye contact with as many sitting reporters as possible even though it makes me doubly nervous. “I’m honored to be standing here. I’m not ashamed to admit when Matt—the president—asked me to take on this task, I didn’t think I could possibly say yes. Turns out it’s not easy to decline the president, especially this one . . .”
I shoot him a look, and when he raises one eyebrow, there’s laughter, and my nerves start easing.
“And although I still feel completely undeserving to be standing here, I will do my best and more than that to represent our country as best I can and do justice to President Hamilton’s presidency. Thank you.”
Applause. “Miss Wells—!”
“Miss Wells, could you give us any specifics on the kind of relationship you and the president—”
Lola takes my place behind the podium and murmurs, “No questions at this time, thank you.”
And with that, she wraps up the press conference and I follow Matt out of the room.
“That went well, Miss Wells! Now if you’ll review the schedule—Oh! Mr. President.”
My chief of staff steps back when she realizes Matt is still there, and we walk together down the hall, his gaze on his chief of staff, who seems to be waiting for him at the end.
“You looked great out there.” His eyes slide to mine.
The impact of feeling his eyes on me never seems to diminish.
“Probably because I was standing next to you.”
“Trust me, I had nothing to do with it.” His eyes start twinkling.
“I expected a little booing, really. But they love you so much that anything you do, they’d agree with.”