He leads me to his living room, where I see the TV is on with the volume low. On his desk is a mess of papers and folders.
He sits across me and clasps his hands behind his head, his eyes never leaving mine. He sits in silence, piercing gaze on me, and I just take him in. Every fiber of my being telling me to go crawl into his lap and let his warmth soothe away any doubt or fear in my head, but I can’t move.
“I can’t do this, Matt. What happened in your hotel room . . .”
I meet his gaze, his eyes like hot coals, his jaw clenched tightly.
I gulp and continue. “We almost got caught. I can’t be the reason for you losing this presidency.”
“You will not be the reason for me losing. If anything, you’ll be the reason for me winning.”
I shake my head. “You know that we’re playing with fire. This is the Oval Office. The White House. I can’t let you throw it away for me.”
“I’m not throwing anything away, Charlotte.” He eyes me steadily. “Why are you so worried?” he prods.
“Why do you think? The whole nation has their eyes on you, Matt! The last thing you need is a scandal.”
“There will not be a scandal. I won’t allow it. You need to trust me.” He leans forward, his eyes scanning my features, his voice unwavering, hard and deadly serious. “I would never let anything happen to you. And even if something broke out in the news, I would protect you.”
“If anything happened, you know you would need to throw me under the bus. It would be the only way to salvage your image with the people and keep your campaign going.” My heart breaks at my words, because as much as it hurts, it’s the truth. He would have to place the blame on me, control the narrative in such a way that made me seem like a power-hungry girl looking to sleep her way to the White House, and make Matt seem like the victim. That’s just politics.
He stands up and starts pacing, and lets out a sarcastic laugh. “You really think I would do that to you?”
I stay silent, unable to speak.
“Jesus, I would rather lose the presidency than hurt you,” he growls, in a voice so low I wasn’t sure I heard him.
“That is exactly why we need to stop!” I plead.
He digs his hand into his hair in an exasperated motion.
“I don’t want to stop,” he says, looking at me with such conviction and desire in his eyes, it almost scares me.
“Neither do I,” I whisper, “but we have to.”
“Fuck, Charlotte—just let me have you! Let me have this!” His eyes pin me to my seat, his raw, unrestrained frustration burning bright. “I may be the next President of the United States! I’ll be damned if I don’t have what I want,” he growls, “and I want you. I not only want you, I need you. No matter what I’m doing, I’m thinking of you. No matter who I’m with, I would rather they be you . . .”
He stands there, his chest rising and falling with his every breath, his fists clenching at his sides, the muscle in his jaw ticking.
I sit there in shock at his outburst . . . at his words.
My heart is practically bursting in my chest at the adoration I feel for this man—and I let myself go. I let myself go to him. Because I want to.
I rise from my seat and his pupils dilate as I walk toward him, his fists still clenched at his sides. I see him fighting the urge to reach out to me.
I walk right up to him, our chests almost touching. Matt tips his head down to look at me, since he towers over me, and the turmoil in his eyes sets me on fire.
I wrap my arms around his neck and plaster myself against his body, and I start to kiss him with everything I’ve got.
I don’t care about more. I don’t care that there is no future for us if he wins. I won’t deny us both this moment. He said he needs me. And I need him.
I kiss him and in my kisses, I unleash all the desire, all the passion, all the need I had been so desperately trying to fight; and he does the same.
Immediately his arms wrap around my waist and I feel him lift me up. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist. His hands grip my ass, holding me against him, and he keeps returning my kisses with equal intensity.
He kisses the shit out of me. All memories of anything existing in the universe other than this man, this moment, completely disappear.
He growls against my lips and I feel him start to walk while kissing me.
He breaks the kiss for a moment to take me up the stairs, but I can’t keep my mouth off him—his jaw . . . down his neck . . . nibbling and sucking on his delicious skin.
He kicks the door open, and I think he just broke the hinges but I don’t care.
The room is dark except for one lamp next to his bed.