“Wow, Mr. Suave Presidential Candidate. You successfully managed to make me sound like a chore.”

“The chore is not you. It’s not having you like I want. It’s not having you all.”

He leans back, stroking his hand absently down my arm. “So many people accidentally fall into what would become their most renowned accomplishments. Steve Jobs, his friendship with Wozniak. Even Escobar didn’t wake up one morning deciding he’d be the most famous drug lord; he was a smuggler—the drug was basically brought to him.”

“And you?”

“I wouldn’t run if my dad were alive. I wanted something along the lines of normal. Not that the media ever made it possible; they’ve wanted me to run ever since . . . ever.”

He reaches out to sip on his wine, then sets it aside and turns back to me. I sit back and am aware of the excited nerves going through me as he lifts his hand to touch me.

“But we cannot live in a country where our presidents get murdered and we never find out who’s responsible. We’re greater than that, smarter than that. We’ve forgotten what it means to be an American—the Constitution doesn’t say ‘I, all for me.’ It says ‘we the people.’ Everyone is out for themselves now, and that’s not what we’re about.” He says it with the certainty of someone who never settles for less than the best.

He reaches out for me and my tummy tumbles. “So it’s not just about me.” He kisses my cheek in a way that’s almost brotherly. “Remind me that if I ever can’t keep my hands off you in front of the team,” he whispers before he kisses the back of my ear, his eyes sparkling. “By the way, you smell divine.”

I smile and meet his gaze.

Exhaling and lifting my face closer, I slip my hand over his chest and press my lips to his.

Matt groans softly, his body tightening under my fingertips, his hold firming around me as he sucks my tongue, his hunger palpable, unleashed. The shadow of stubble along his jaw tickles my skin.

“I want your wanton little noises tonight,” he murmurs quietly into my mouth, meeting my gaze as he slips his hand under my top. “I want you soaking me to the wrist.” He plunges his tongue inside and cups my breast, flicking my nipple. “I want you coming undone for me, so fucking undone you’ll think you’re breaking.”

“Yes,” I breathe, moving my arms, holding him close as I shift beneath him and pull him over me on the couch.

“You’re not too tired to come, are you?” He strokes his fingers over my pussy.

I mewl.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll give you what you need. I’ve got you. Just relax, let me give it to you,” he says softly, dragging his lips along my face, my neck.

I moan softly and slide my hands up his hard arms.

“You’re gorgeous. God, you’re gorgeous. I just want to be in you. I want to be looking at you, like this. Writhing and noisy. You’re so sweet, baby, nobody knows there’s a sex bomb lying underneath those little business suits. Only me.”

“Yes, you, Matt,” I agree, shifting beneath him as he unzips his pants and pulls himself out, and then he sheaths himself and fills me, and I’m lost in this, in him.

We move things to the bedroom an hour later, cuddling naked in bed. “I like it here,” I say.

“You’re the first good memory this place has had for a while.” He brushes my hair back and smiles at me. “I’m glad I brought you here.” He kisses me, the sweetest kiss I’ve had in my life, and no matter how exhausted I am, I can’t sleep. Like him, I don’t want to miss a moment of this—even a second.

This isn’t a childish crush anymore. I love him. I love Matt with my whole being. I breathe him, breathe for him.

I breathe to help him win—even if that means I won’t ever, ever feel his arms around me like this again.

I wake to a husky voice. “Charlotte, we’re leaving.”

I stir. “What time is it?”

“Five. We need to get going.” He strokes the top of my head and nods to a fresh cup of coffee. “In case you need it. Did you have a good night’s sleep? Or should we call it a nap, it was so brief?”

I smile and nod, and I don’t expect him to kiss my mouth because we’re in a hurry. But he does, his eyes proprietary as he eases back and pats the side of my butt. “All right, rise and shine, beautiful.”

I fall back in bed, squeezing my eyes shut, and I bite back a smile before I push myself out of bed.

28

RAIN OR SHINE

Charlotte

I seem to be great at organizing the field team as well as all of Matt’s engagements perfectly, but I seem to be really bad at things most normal people are good at.

I can’t sleep.

I can hardly eat.

I’m high from him, from the looks, the stolen touches, the secret lust, watching him at rally after rally, speaking firmly and from the heart to crowds calling out his name.

It’s been eight days since we were at his dad’s place by the beach, and I’m still affected by the intimacy we shared.

I’m in love with him; there’s no doubt about it. It’s not just sex, not just a crush. It all became clear during our time together. Being with him in his secret space was special—as special as the night Matt came to dinner with his father. I feel guilty for caving to my desires, potentially putting his candidacy in jeopardy when I know this man would be so good for the country. But I yearn for more time with him.

Attempting to put some space between us, I told Carlisle I’d ride the bus with the campaign team to New York, but Matt simply sent Wilson to my hotel room to tell me what time he expected me at the airport.

I climbed into the plane along with Hessler, Carlisle, a famous political strategist named Lane Idris, Matt, and Jack. I was grateful Matt’s grandfather was busy running his real estate business from Virginia and wouldn’t be flying with us.

I listen to the men talk politics and observe Matt watching, thinking about their suggestions. When the talk turns to other subjects, Matt turns to me and eyes the book on my lap.

The book I’m reading is Democracy in America by Alexis de Tocqueville.

I love it because it’s not about how perfect democracy is, but rather how imperfect it is. Like everything in life, democracy needs to be balanced.

Strange to be thinking about balance when I’ve never felt so unbalanced in my life.