Now I’m a little confused. He sounds intense in a different way than I’m used to hearing from him. “I’m in this for life, Sir. You know I am.”
He arches an eyebrow at me.
“Carter, I’m in this for life, with you and Susa. Seriously. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Just try getting rid of me.”
He releases my face and his right hand dips into the front pocket of his slacks. He pulls something out, then he takes my right hand and I feel him slip it onto my ring finger. It’s warm from being close to his body. He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses the ring before his lips travel lower, settling over the tattoo on my right wrist.
When I am finally allowed to see the ring, my eyes blur with tears. “I ordered it the next day,” he quietly says. “I couldn’t find the nerve to give it to you, because I was afraid you’d tell me no. So I put it away to keep it safe. I decided I’d give it to you either the day I could marry you, or the day I got you sworn in as governor, whichever came first.”
The blue and grey Doctor Who rings he’d shown me back in college, the night we’d celebrated my twenty-first birthday. That was one of the things I do remember from that night.
Gallifreyan writing scrolls through the center part and appears etched in grey against the dark blue ring.
Carter strokes my finger, where the band now sits, before looking up at me. “Inside it says, ‘Mine in all lives.’”
I stare at the band, blinking, stunned.
It’s perfect.
I look up again to meet his gaze. “I don’t have one for you.”
“You can pick whatever you want later. For me, and one for Susa to wear. For now, I’ll tell you what I really want from you.”
“What?”
The deep amber flecks in his brown eyes pick up the light, making it appear like tiny fires burn brightly there. “Susa wants to have a baby.”
I frown. “You had a vasectomy. She knows that.”
“I know that, and you know that, and she knows that. She started beating around the bush a couple of nights ago, wondering if my vasectomy could be reversed, or would I be open to talking to a doctor about IVF or…something. I told her we could discuss that in a few months, once we’re all settled in our new jobs. I also told her that, for now, if she’s serious about wanting a baby, she needs to stop taking her birth control pills because it can take a few months to fully leave the system. And I told her to take a couple of days to think about it.”
Carter lets a beat pass before his next words. “She tossed the packages in the trash before we went to bed last night.”
He lets that information sit and settle in my brain for a moment.
I gasp as I recall the sight of my semen coating the insides of her thighs before she’d left my office.
Carter said fucking her was my reward, his gift to me.
How he leaned in and whispered in my ear that I was such a good boy for him. That, until further notice, I could grab her, bend her over, and fuck her whenever I wanted and we had a safe opportunity to do so.
Encouraging me to find such opportunities as often as possible.
No restrictions.
How he told me she is under orders to submit to me like that because I’ve been such a good boy for them.
He knows I wanted children, but one of the compromises I accepted by agreeing to be his was knowing that would no longer be in the stars for me.
When his true implication finally hits me, it literally takes my breath away.
I kiss him again, my hand threading through his hair to hold him in place and my lips crushing his.
“You are a fucking bastard extraordinaire,” I mumble against his mouth.
He chuckles as we kiss. When his hands settle on my ass once more he squeezes, tightly and nearly painfully, and I love it. I lift my mouth from his so I can stare down into his sweet brown eyes.
His playful smile looks gorgeous, sexy. “I know. Ain’t I, though?”
He is.
And I love him.
Really, truly love him.
The End
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Owen, Carter, and Susa’s story continues in Lieutenant (Governor Trilogy 2) and Chief (Governor Trilogy 3). Please sign up for my newsletter, and you’ll never miss a pre-order or new release as Lesli or as Tymber:
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Keep reading for the first chapter from Lieutenant (Governor Trilogy 2).
Preview - Lieutenant (Governor Trilogy 2)
Keep reading for the first chapter from Lieutenant (Governor Trilogy 2) by Lesli Richardson.
Description
I never come in second—that’s just how my daddy raised me.
Except now, I find myself willingly choosing exactly that—being second. Publicly, I might seem to serve at the governor’s pleasure, but that’s nothing close to the truth.
He serves me at mine. Especially the pleasure part.
We both serve my husband, Carter. Or, as Owen dubbed him long ago, the bastard extraordinaire.
I never knew what I was really getting into when I met Owen and Carter. Maybe it’s better I didn’t. Maybe I would’ve run away if I had.
Boy, how I love him. Both of them. Somehow, they make being second okay. And in eight years?
It’ll be my turn.
I am Susa Evans, lieutenant governor of the great state of Florida.
* * * *
Chapter One
Now
I never knew what I was getting into when I first met Owen and Carter.
Maybe it’s better I didn’t know.
Maybe I would’ve run away if I had.
But now I’ve been sworn in as the lieutenant governor of the great state of Florida, working with Governor Owen Taylor.
Publicly, it might seem that I serve at the governor’s pleasure, but that’s nothing close to the truth.
He serves me at mine. Especially the pleasure part.
We both serve my husband, Carter Wilson. My Master and Owner.
Also Owen’s best friend and chief of staff.
And, as Owen dubbed him long ago, a bastard extraordinaire.
Boy, how I love him. Both of them.
Not many women are lucky enough to have two men who love them as much as Owen and Carter love me.
I grew up in a political family. My father likes to “joke” that me changing my party affiliation from GOP to Independent contributed to the massive heart attack that forced him out of running for higher public offices and into semi-retirement.
Except, here’s the thing—I never wanted to be known as Benchley Evans’ little girl. I always wanted to make my own name.
If anyone’s to blame it’s my father, because he’s the one who taught me how to be ruthless.
Brutal.
Never come in second.
There’s only one winner.
Joke’s on him. We came in first, all right. By a damned landslide.
Without running under the banner of his precious GOP. And without the help of being a Democrat, either.
Both parties have good points, but both parties have increasingly fatal flaws that mean neither is doing their constituents any favors in this state. Tribal politics run rampant. No one’s interested in actually governing, only scoring poll results and sound bites. Florida’s a major swing state, and party candidates are frequently too busy tonguing the taints of national-level pols, trying to curry favor with them to help their own careers, instead of focusing on what’s important to the people of our state.
I wasn’t Florida’s first female lieutenant governor, so that wasn’t a glass ceiling I could shatter. But I damn sure plan on being Florida’s next governor, provided Owen is re-elected.
There’s no reason to think he won’t. Carter won’t let him lose.
If there’s someone who wants to win even more than my father and I do, it’s Carter. Which is one of the reasons why Daddy hates Carter so much.
If only Daddy knew what else
Carter does, he’d really hate him. Him and Owen both.
But I love them, and no way in hell will I give them up.
Not for Daddy, and not for anyone else, either.
* * * *
Right now, I’m leaving Owen’s office and returning to my own before I finish for the day. At my husband’s earlier summons, I’d left my chief of staff, Draymond, while we were going over tomorrow’s schedule.
As I stand waiting for the elevator, I feel a draft up my skirt and Owen’s cum threatening to slide down the insides of my thighs where Carter had him fuck me over Owen’s new desk just minutes earlier.
That’s one way to break in an office.
Except I screwed up.
Well, not screwed up, really.
I was counting on Carter being so damned busy today, between the swearing in ceremony and it being Owen’s first day as governor, that Carter wouldn’t think to do a panty check.
I should have known better. Of course he would figure out a way for the three of us to privately celebrate the inauguration.
Carter ripped them off me, and now they’re in his pocket.
Which is why I have to squeeze my thighs together and pray the elevator hurries the hell up and gets here.
Of course, squeezing my thighs together reminds me that I’m going to have bite marks and bruises all inside my thighs from where Carter pinched and bit me only minutes earlier, because there were too many people in the outer office for him to spank me.
Worse, the bastard extraordinaire didn’t get me off.
Ohhh, I’m sure I’ll get a proper punishment later tonight at home, after the inauguration ball, but…
Yeah.
I know I’m smiling right now over that thought. Because it’s not like I’m dreading it or anything.
Just like I’m not dreading the fact that Carter gave Owen carte blanche permission to bend me over and fuck me anytime we can safely do so without risk of discovery.
* * * *
I make it back to my office and hold up a finger to stall Draymond as I duck into my personal bathroom. I take a quick moment to clean up—breathing a massive sigh of relief that I haven’t left a damp spot on the back of my skirt—and then return to hear what my COS was saying.
I really like the guy, Draymond Garcia. He’s a talented attorney who worked on several of Owen’s campaigns for us, and a friend of Carter’s. Carter took care of me, the way he always has, and hired Dray to be my chief of staff shortly after we won the election.
Carter is the power behind the power, and don’t think I don’t know that.
Daddy always says that time is never your friend, and it’s never on your side. But my Nana always told me to take time to make time, or else I’d regret it.
Those two contradictory pieces of advice are both correct.
Dray helps me in both ways—keeping track of my time for me and helping me make time where I need to. He is as hungry for power as Carter and I are. Another good reason he’s here—he wants to be here for the long-haul. Dray is focused on spending the next sixteen years in Tallahassee with us.
With me.
The only full-time woman in his life, outside his family and the occasional friend.
No, seriously. He’s gay. Hot as hell, and his long-term live-in boyfriend, Gregory, is just as gorgeous.
Draymond’s fashion sense is on fleek, too. Another reason Carter wanted him working for me—to make sure if he isn’t around to personally approve how I look, he knows Dray will step in and fix me up. He’s a handsome mixed Latinx with impeccable style, getting his six-five height and flawless dark brown skin from his tall father, and his gorgeous green eyes from his Puerto Rican mother.
If I had to worry about Carter and Owen’s fidelity, maybe I’d be a little jealous of Dray and the time he gets to spend with my husbands.
But more importantly, Carter trusts Dray with our secrets. He’ll be not only my body man but also my point man in terms of making sure I look like I’m where I’m supposed to be, even if I’m sneaking away for a few private moments with Owen.
One of the three men Carter saved from the car bomb that fateful day in the desert by throwing his body over theirs was Dray’s older brother, Samuel. That means we literally don’t have to worry about his loyalties. If Carter called Dray and told him he had a body he needed help hiding, Dray wouldn’t waste time asking stupid questions.
He’d show up with shovels. Or maybe even a wood chipper.
And I can guarantee you he’d look good doing it, too.
Carter helps pair Dray with discreet beards for family functions involving his grandparents. His parents and brother know about him being gay, but they all pretend around both sets of grandparents, just to keep the peace.
Dray’s boyfriend goes, too. They’ve told the grandparents Gregory’s an orphan—which is technically true, since his asshole family disowned him when he came out—and that he’s Dray’s roommate—again, technically true—so they welcome him as another grandchild and are none the wiser.
Once both sets of Dray’s grandparents have passed, the two of them plan to get married.
Dray finishes going over this week’s schedule with me. I don’t miss the playful smirk he’s wearing.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing, ma’am.” Unlike when Owen calls me that, the m is lower-case.
“Just say it.”
He shrugs. “Your husband called me right before you returned. He told me that, in the future, I’m to snitch on you if I see you wearing panties, unless he’s specifically told me ahead of time he’s cleared it.”
I glare. “Snitches get stitches.”
He grins. “I’m more afraid of him than I am you, ma’am.”
I prop my elbows on my desk, my head cradled in my hands. “Dammit.”
He snorts. “Sorry, ma’am, but he outranks you.”
“I’m the lieutenant governor.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you know damn well I’m running for governor in eight years.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I lift my head. “And as my chief of staff, you’ll still squeal on me even then, won’t you?”
He grins and shrugs. “Sorry, ma’am. Sarge outranks you.”
I slump back in my chair. “You’re not sorry one damn bit. I think you’re a sadist, too.”
“You might not be wrong, ma’am. Now, let’s firm up Monday’s schedule, please?”
* * * *
When I’m ready to leave and head to our townhouse here in Tallahassee, the FHP officer assigned as one of my permanent security detail is sitting at his desk in my outer office, along with my administrative assistant, Andrea. He goes ahead to get the car.
I personally don’t want a security detail, but Carter—and Owen—have insisted. Yes, it’s customary for the lieutenant governor to have security, but I was hoping to avoid it. They worry with Carter being Owen’s COS, and with me being Senator Benchley Evans’ daughter, that that it might paint a larger target on me.
And, as Carter informed me, if he wasn’t Owen’s COS, he would be my personal security detail.
Our townhouse isn’t far from the Florida Governor’s Mansion, not even two blocks, but it might as well be miles away for me. I won’t be able to sneak back and forth very easily. It’s a quick walk for Carter, however, which is one of the reasons he selected it.
The other reason is that it’s a center unit. Owen owns the one to the left of ours, and Daddy owns the one on the right. Daddy’s sits mostly vacant, unless he needs to travel to Tallahassee for meetings or events. They used to have a house here, but sold it and bought the townhouse after Daddy’s heart attack. Once his term in the Florida Senate ended, they started living in their house in Brandon again full-time. Now, he and Momma are talking about buying another house here, since I’ll be here most of the time. If they do that, at least it means I won’t have to worry about them being right next door anymore.
Meaning we’ll have nearly
guaranteed privacy.
We first invested in the townhouses when Owen was elected to the Florida Senate, which turned out to be a doubly good choice once I was elected to the Florida House of Representatives not long after. Just like with our two homes in Brandon, just outside Tampa, we’re usually using only one. Owen’s townhouse is for show. There is, in fact, a hidden door that connects our unit to Owen’s.
We pass the Florida Governor’s Mansion as the trooper drives me through the chilly January afternoon, and I stare at the place as we ride by. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve driven past that mansion in my life, or how many times I’ve been inside it as Representative or Senator Benchley Evans’ daughter.
I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to live there. Not as the wife or daughter of the governor, either.
Eight years.
Eight years, and I’ll officially be living there.
I hope.
I’m already trying to think of how we could explain Owen living there with us, even though I know Owen himself, and Carter, will nix that plan.
I’m already missing our house in Tampa, our bedroom, our large bed, falling asleep in a warm, naked pile of jumbled limbs and unhampered love.
This is going to be a major sacrifice for all three of us, but I think it’s worth it.
Our state suffered greatly under several terms of GOP governors who were beholden not only to the state and national parties, but also to the NRA, Big Sugar, and other dark-money lobbyists. A party that spent too much time and money trying to court hard-right Evangelicals instead of returning to its fiscally conservative roots. It’s difficult to spot it if you’re merely a tourist in our state, enjoying the beaches or theme parks. Nothing feels wrong in those fantasy lands.
It’s in the plummeting graduation rates and increased pollution statistics where the truth begins to emerge. Toxic algae blooms, increasing sinkholes, more dangerous tropical storms and hurricanes hitting our shores more frequently, the rising sea levels threatening our coastal regions.
Governor (Governor Trilogy 1) Page 37
