His stride is purposeful as he heads forward. Jack waits by my side, tail swishing side to side.
Our eyes meet. I just smile and start heading inside, and two steps inside—a good distance away from the agents milling about—he draws me into his arms and my resolve to wait until after dinner melts a little. He strokes a hand down the back of my head. “I missed you,” he breathes in my ear.
It melts a little more.
His strength seeps into my body. It reaches deep inside me, down to the marrow of my bones. If we were alone, I’d pull him somewhere to feel his hands on me. Feel his eyes on me. Feel his skin under my fingers, his tongue moving over mine again.
“So did I.”
Jack barks happily. Matt eases back, but not before I get a glimpse of the smoldering heat in his eyes. “Not here,” he says.
I inhale for patience.
He grins, seizes my chin, and stares straight into my eyes. “Go to my room.” A promise.
My breathing becomes uneven and jittery. “What about dinner?”
“What I want is right here, and I’m not waiting a moment longer to have her. Now let me tend to something and I’ll be right there.”
I head to my bedroom first and snatch up a gauzy nightie that I bought in Paris, my only purchase there. A white baby doll with a part in the middle and a bow tying it together.
Did I buy it with the hopes he would one day see it?
I told myself it was for me, but now I’m not so sure. I tuck it under my jacket, and I’m aware of Secret Service stationed nearby as I cross to his room. I shut the door, quickly change in his large bathroom, and head straight for the bed because my legs feel liquid and unsteady.
His room is a little bigger than mine and his bed smells like him. I sigh and delight in the scent when I hear the knob turn—and the door shut.
My happy smile over being in his bed fades as my lashes open, and my eyes start to climb up powerful, long legs, narrow hips, and a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the top.
He. Is already. HARD.
He’s looking at me with incredible amusement, his eyes dancing, his hair spiked up as if he’s been very restless. Restless on his way home.
“Always full of surprises, aren’t you, Charlotte,” he says quietly. Taking in my baby doll.
I can’t breathe anymore.
I’m enveloped by the power and confidence he oozes, by the penetrating quality of his stare, by the male smile he wears.
Twisting my lips as I sit propped up on my arms, I shyly hold his gaze. “Do you like my welcome home gift?” I motion to the bow tying my baby doll together.
We’re both high from missing each other, I think—our adrenaline twisting and tangling invisibly in the room.
He crosses the room, reaching out to take my arm and help me to my feet. One tug and he’s flattened me against the flat wall of his chest. Another tug on my loose hair yanks my head back. The gasp that leaves me only serves to part my lips—and he’s there. His lips are there, brushing mine, ever so exquisitely. His breath trickling warmly into my mouth.
“I like the gift,” he says, fingering the bow at the top of my nightie, “though I haven’t opened it entirely yet.”
He tugs the bow, releasing it. Desire for him thrums in my veins.
“The fact that I’m nearly naked doesn’t mean that I’m ready to sleep with you.”
He parts the baby doll open. “The fact that I asked you to my room doesn’t mean I’ve been thinking about you.”
But I want him to think of me. Because I can’t stop thinking about him. I slide my hands down the front of his shirt. “No?” I rock my hips against him.
He tugs the fabric of my nightie off one shoulder. “No.” He leans down, lips whisking across the curve of said shoulder.
It’s amazing what he does to me.
He touches me and all my senses attune to the spot he’s touching.
His scent intoxicates me and his lips are the wickedest thing I’ve ever encountered. My eyes drift shut, and I angle my head back, gripping his hair. It’s slicked back when he’s in public, but I love how it gets spiky when he’s been raking his fingers through it.
I pull on it and bring his head up and he chuckles softly, grabs my face in one hand, and presses his mouth firmly—firmly, decidedly—on mine.
I’m in a free fall, and his eyes are shining with lust and yearning before he takes my mouth in a harder kiss. Our tongues tangle, his tongue strong, wet, thirsty. I can’t stop myself from opening his jacket, feeling his muscles under his shirt. Perfectly delineated.
Every time we kiss feels like the first time, but this time feels like it’s the only time.
As I unbutton his shirt and see the flag pin on his jacket, I am reminded of what a huge difference he’s making, how small I am compared to the millions of people whose lives he’s affecting.
“Matt, I may not have foreseen that people could hear . . .”
“I don’t see anyone here but you and me,” he rasps, and boy is he really looking at me.