“They aren’t that bad!” I shout on a laugh.
“You’re right. They are terrifying!” he yells over his shoulder before heading down the hall to my bedroom to pack up some clothes I will need over the next few days.
• • •
“THIS. PLACE. IS. AWESOME!” Carter’s enthusiastic shouts can probably be heard from outer space.
Sometime after Logan left my apartment and I managed to not burst a brain aneurysm over Chancellor’s callous treatment of me and this move, or whatever the hell it might be, Carter and I packed up my life as best as we could. He brilliantly labeled and ruthlessly organized in a way that would put high-ranking generals to shame. He packed my clothes for the next few days and my toiletries, and I packed the cats into their crates. It really wasn’t as bad as it seemed. I did have to take a quick shower, because Panda got so mad he peed on me, but otherwise, everything went as planned.
“I think I’m going to have to order not one but two Uber XLs for these beasts,” Carter said as he eyed my many pet carriers in the living room, each one full of a pleading cat. I just rolled my eyes and waited for the cars to arrive while I continued to pick up and organize. I also talked to my cats.
When the first car arrived, Carter, who I am now ninety percent sure was some great military general in a past life, had started ordering everyone around. I realize now his ultimate goal was to not have to ride in the car with the cats. And he succeeded.
One car was loaded with my two suitcases and several boxes of the cats’ accoutrements—a scratching post, a kitty condo, food bowls, litter boxes, and more. The carriers were loaded into the back of another Suburban, and then Carter offered me a hand up into the backseat of the SUV. But as looks can be deceiving, my dutiful assistant was really just ensuring his own survival. He slammed the door closed behind me before I could even say one single word and then he ran—yes, ran—to the SUV behind the one I was in and hopped in.
There were a handful of photographers outside of Chancellor’s New York home when we pulled up. Thankfully, I looked decent enough. My hair is pulled up in a messy bun and my makeup is soft and natural with a little pale-pink blush on my cheeks and a clear gloss on my lips. After my shower, I had tossed on a cute pair of jeggings and a fitted NYU crew neck sweatshirt. I took a deep breath and pushed it out before plastering a small smile on my face just before I pushed the car door open and stepped out into my new normal.
Flashes snapped around me, and I brushed a loose hair back from my forehead before turning to the driver to help him gather my babies to take them into their new home. I felt a pang of remorse; I probably should have warned Jake about the cats, but he wanted me to be the lady of the manor, and that’s exactly what he’s going to get.
“Grace! Grace!” they shouted at me. “How long have you been with the senator?”
I didn’t answer; I just grabbed a cat carrier and the keys that felt like they were scorching my palm and walked up the concrete and brick steps of the senator’s home.
“Does the senator know you have cats?”
I had set the carrier just inside the door of the vestibule before heading back down the stairs to grab two more. Carter was holding the press at bay while the drivers unloaded the cat boxes and my suitcases.
“Do you think he’ll be able to stay faithful to you when every single woman in New York wants a piece of him?” one shouted, and I felt my composure slip just a bit before I smiled a brittle smile and waved to them as I walked up the stairs one last time.
I slipped my phone from my jeans pocket and sent off a quick text to the man of the hour.
ME: Thanks for the heads up on the press. That was fun.
JAKE: It’s all part of the plan. Stay the course.
ME: I’m doubting the course.
JAKE: We’ll work off that frustration and excess energy when I get home. You’ll feel better after you come.
ME: Don’t count on it.
JAKE: Be ready for me.
ME: …
I started to text him back, but really, it’s not worth it. He will only keep arguing, and I wasn’t sure his texting me about my orgasms was really beneficial in this situation.
“Jesus H. I need a drink after that,” Carter said once he closed and locked the door behind us. “Let’s go snoop around the senator’s house and find his good liquor.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. “Fine. Let’s go.” I mean, it’s no less than Jacob deserves by orchestrating this whole thing.
“Would you get a look at this place?” he breathed as we started opening cat carriers and watching the angry little furballs flee the room.
I looked up at Carter to see him taking in the dark wood stairs and entryway, polished within an inch of its life. This home has to be on some historic registries.
“It’s amazing what a lot of old money can buy.”
“Your snobbery is showing,” Carter said. “Besides, this is your home now.”
“You’re right,” I told him. “Let’s go drink his fancy wine.”
“Solid plan.”
After snooping through the palatial five-story brownstone, Carter and I didn’t find anything remotely scandalous. I was kind of hoping we’d find some sort of den of iniquity, a red room of pain, but there was nothing out of the norm to be found.
We did find a fancy wine cellar full of expensive-looking bottles. Carter and I carefully selected two that looked expensive but not irreplaceable and carried our bounty upstairs. We drank both, laughing the whole time. And the whole time, I sat nervous, feeling totally on edge, but Jacob never showed. Which brings us to now.
When it grows late, Carter leaves for the comfort of his home and his hot husband. I can’t blame him. I would be home wrapped up in a good-looking man who dotes on me too—if I had one. Instead, I sit fretting away the hours. What I should have done was scoped out a guest bedroom.
When I can’t take it anymore, I pour myself another large glass of wine and climb the stairs. I draw myself a hot bath and try to unwind. When the thought of being caught naked and trapped in a pool of water makes me even more anxious, I climb out of the tub and dry off. I pull on a soft pair of black leggings and my favorite college sweatshirt.
I head back down to the kitchen, feeling the heat from the bath and the wine in my head. I need to add some food to my bloodstream to dilute the pinot noir. This kitchen is nothing like the small little galley number in my apartment across town. This is meant for commercial use. After surveying the contents of the fridge, I grill two chicken breasts in a pan and chop vegetables for a salad. I wouldn’t usually be so nice to Jacob, but I’m going to try to sway him to my non-intimate way of thinking with good food and camaraderie. I’m going to kill him with kindness, and then maybe he won’t ruin me for all other men and make me fall halfway in love with him.
Wishful thinking, right?
I pour myself another glass of wine and eat my dinner standing up at the kitchen counter. When I’m done, I clean up and place Jake’s plate in the fridge for whenever he returns, which clearly isn’t going to be anytime soon. The cats have started coming out of their hiding places one by one and are loving all the space to hide and run around.
I grab a book and my favorite throw blanket Carter thoughtfully packed for me and snuggle into a corner of a sofa in the den. Eventually, my fluffy Himalayan comes to cuddle in my lap. She always loves to snuggle when I read. And finally, I start to relax.
Ten minutes later, I’m totally spoiled, when I hear the front door open followed by the beeping of the alarm pad, which I forgot to reset when we came in. And all of this is followed by Jacob’s quiet, “What the fuck?” and then a loud “Meow.”
Looks like the surprise is up. I sit quietly on the sofa for longer than I should and am a little embarrassed to admit I consider hiding under my favorite blanket and pretending like I was never here at all. And in my still-a-little-wine-drunk state, I am completely honest with myself. My fear isn’t that I don’t wa
nt to sleep with him and he will force me; it’s that I know I do. Even at his slightly angry words spoken in another room, I feel my nipples pebble under my sweatshirt. I want to feel his hand on my ass again and his rough groan against the side of my neck. How am I ever going to resist him?
“Grace?” I hear from down the hall.
“In here,” I answer.
“What’s this?” he asks when he appears in the doorway holding a gray cat with one ear in his arms like a baby. And that cat is purring so loud he could probably be heard in New Mexico. Traitor.
“My cat,” I answer blandly.
“And that one?” He nods toward my snuggle buddy, Winks.
“Also mine.”
“So just the two then?” he asks mildly, and it has me more on edge than I was all night. Something about Jacob Chancellor tells me it’s when he’s quiet that I need to be more on guard than when he’s yelling.
“No.”
“How many?”
“Eight.”
He looks to contemplate my answer for a minute before seeming to accept it, which makes me nervous. “Any dogs? Parrots? Or chinchillas?” he asks, and a little wine-drunk giggle slips out of my mouth. I bite my lip to hold it back, but it’s no use, and an odd look crosses Jake’s face.
But I don’t think about it now. Later, I would realize I should have. Later, I would realize that I had let my guard slip and it would prove to be a fatal error. But right now, the sight of him holding my senior rescue cat like a baby has me all twisted up in knots and behaving like a girl with her first crush.
“No. Just the cats.”
“Okay,” he says, and he looks tired. More tired than I realized before. Maybe his life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows after all. “I take it you’ve had dinner?”
“I did,” I tell him. “I left you a plate in the fridge.”
“You made me dinner?” he asks in a voice that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. There’s something about his reaction I don’t understand. He sets the cat in his arms down before issuing his next command. “Come here.”
“I-I-I’m sorry,” I whisper. Shit, I made him mad and I was just trying to be nice. How could I keep bungling this all so badly? “I won’t do it again.”
“I said come here,” he growls. “Don’t make me ask again.”
I jump up and walk toward him, stopping a foot away from him. I know he wouldn’t hurt me, but he still scares the crap out of me. There’s something about him that just screams dangerous.
Jake reaches out and hooks me by my arm, swinging me into his body as he closes around me in a tight hug. He tucks his face into the crook of my neck and just holds me for a bit. I’m not really sure what to do with such a tender gesture, so I awkwardly pat him on the back, making him chuckle.
“No one’s made me dinner in a long time, honey,” he says softly when he pulls back to look at my face but still doesn’t release me. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You just made me happy.”
“Oh,” I reply uneasily. “Okay.”
“Keep me company while I eat?” he asks sweetly, almost a little shyly, and I don’t know what to make of this Jake. He’s cute and he’s funny and he’s playful. I don’t want to say no to him, but I also don’t trust him to be real. But maybe this is how I sway him to my way of thinking.
Or maybe it’s the beginning of my downfall. Only time will tell.
“Okay,” I repeat.
He lets me go but takes my hand in his and leads me back into the kitchen. I let out an undignified shriek when he turns on me and scoops me up, unceremoniously dropping me on the prep island and laughing at my reaction.
“What did you make me?” he asks as he moves to the fridge. The way his face lights up, I wish it was something fancier. Maybe tomorrow I’ll wow him with my mom’s recipe for chicken parmigiana.
“Nothing special,” I answer. “Just a salad with grilled chicken.”
“Thank you,” he says as he pulls the plate from the fridge and sets it on the island next to me.
“You’re welcome.”
He walks over to a bottle of wine Carter and I opened and examines the label. It paired nicely with the chicken, if I do say so myself. He pulls down another wine glass and empties the bottle into it before taking a sip. I get lost in the way his throat moves as he swallows the dry wine, and I’ll be damned if that isn’t more than a little tingle I feel between my thighs at the sight. He’s so sexy I could probably come just from watching him.
He looks up at me, and my breath catches at the hungry look in his eyes. And I don’t think it’s from a boring salad and grilled chicken.
Jake prowls back toward me, and I have the sudden urge to run, but I know that can’t be right either. It’s like they say at the zoo—never run from a lion; a true predator thrives on the chase. And I know without a doubt Jake would too. Just like I also know he’d catch me if I ran.
I should run.
I take too long deciding, because he’s standing before me and I haven’t even moved. Shit. Jake takes another sip from his glass before holding it up to my lips. I open them just enough for him to pour a sip into my mouth. The move is so intimate, so raw.
“Going somewhere?” he asks, and it’s like he knows. Jake always knows everything about me.
“Oh, ya know….” I hedge.
“I thought you were going to keep me company while I ate my dinner,” he says as he sets the wine glass aside.
“I am,” I say hesitantly as he nudges his hips between my thighs while my legs dangle off the countertop. “But your dinner is over there.” I nod to his plate sitting off to the side. He doesn’t even look toward it; no, Jake keeps his eyes firmly locked on mine.
“I think I found something I want even more.”
And then he grips the back of my neck in his strong hand and crushes his mouth to mine in an earth-shattering kiss like I have never felt before. I feel his length, hard as steel, press against my center, and I gasp into his mouth. Jake does not hesitate, licking into mine. He tastes me and owns me all at once. My body is his to master, and I was foolish to think otherwise.
I arch into him, pressing my pussy against his erection. My entire body feels on fire. I’m engulfed in the flames he created, and I can’t stop it. I rock my hips again and again against him as the pressure builds and builds.
He slides his hand under the hem of my sweatshirt and up, over the smooth skin of my belly and higher until his palm covers my unbound breast. He squeezes it as his hand flexes involuntarily. The minor pain only seems to drive me wilder, and I whimper into his mouth for more.
“Fuck,” he bites out as he trails his mouth over my cheek and down to the side of my neck.
“More,” I pant as he sucks my earlobe into his mouth, and he grinds his still-covered cock against my center, hitting my clit in a way that has me begging for release.
My movements become more frantic as I undulate against him. I’m so desperate. I need this climax that’s barreling down on me like I need air. Jake sucks the skin on the side of my neck as he pinches my nipple between his thumb and index finger. Hard.
And I come.
Wave after wave rolls through me, and I barely register Jake sliding my sweatshirt up and over my head, exposing me to his view, and I don’t even care. I feel the wet heat of his mouth as he draws my nipple deep into his mouth before letting it go with a pop.
He pulls my leggings down my thighs just enough to expose my bare pussy to his view. The heated way he stares at me makes me want to rip them to shreds and beg him to fill me.
“Fuck,” he grits out when he covers my core with his palm. “I could feel how hot you are for me through your clothes.”
“Yes,” I pant as he slides two fingers into me and begins to pump them.
“Say you want me like I want you,” he demands as he uses his other hand to free one of my legs from my pants and then the other as his fingers continues to drive me higher and higher.
“Yes. I want
you!” I shout as he throws my leggings to the floor.
“Thank fuck,” he bites out before crushing his mouth to mine as he holds me up by the back of my neck. I would fall to the countertop if it weren’t for him holding me. “I need to feel you come around my fingers.”
“Yes.”
“And then against my mouth,” he says, and he sounds like he needs it as much as I do, which by the way his thumb swipes against my clit over and over as he pumps his fingers into me again and again, is desperately.
“Yes.”
“And then around my cock. Fuck you’re so fucking wet. You’re sopping with it, and I can’t wait to lick it all up.”
I can’t even talk. I’m so close to the edge that words evade me. I need him so badly. And he knows it. Jake Chancellor seems to know every inch of my body better than I do myself. He sees me and knows exactly what I need to take me there, and he does so ruthlessly.
He growls when I tip my head back on my shoulders. I’m so lost to the sensations as he pumps his hand again and again.
This is it. I’m on the cusp of awesomeness. He reaches between us for his belt buckle. Yes! This is it. I need to be filled by him so badly. Our bodies are about to be one. I gasp as he presses down on my clit with his thumb.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m about to come.
And then his phone rings.
“Fuck!” Jake barks, and it’s not a happy in the moment one.
He lets go of his hold on the back of my neck, and I drop down to my elbows, hoping they hold me up. My breath saws in and out of my chest as his phone stops ringing and then starts up again. His fingers stop moving but he holds them tight inside of me as he uses his free hand to pull his cellphone out of his pants pocket.
“Chancellor,” he answers and listens to whoever it is on the other end of the line while he stares at his hand on my body. “This better be good, Rick.”
I feel my spine go straight and my body go cold at the mention of his political mercenary, Rick Donovan. Chief of Staff is too nice of a description to use for a viper like Rick, and everyone knows it.
“Yeah,” he answers something that Rick asks. “I’ll be right there.”
The Senator's Secret (A Presidential Affair Book 1) Page 7
