I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“You can,” he insists, and he finds my clit again, making tight circles that send sparks through my body. His other hand moves in a blur—pinching my nipples, tracing the crack of my ass, plunging inside me.
Another smack, and another, and I’m coming apart as he demands I hold myself together. “A little more. A little higher.”
I writhe against his hands, pressing him for more and twisting from his grasp. Tears leak from my eyes as I try to hang on. Then he turns me, flips my back against the wall, hoists me, and impales me on his cock.
I ride this exquisite fullness, and I bite his shoulder to hold back the scream. My mind is empty of the jumbled thoughts from today—all that’s left is I want and I need and now, now, now.
“Now, Grace. Come now.” Jared thrusts deep, the force of him taking my breath away. I throw back my head and unfurl the scream that’s built in my chest since this morning, the total release that I didn’t realize I could have until he forced me to delay, and delay, and delay, until every last shred of my consciousness was bound into one single, blinding urge.
I let go. The climax rushes at me so hard it’s like a train passing over me as I’m tied to the tracks. It’s a wild terror that shoots through me like lightning, but I’m held in his arms, filled to overflowing by Jared—sight, sound, smell, taste, touch.
He rocks into me and my senses spiral through wave after wave, barely aware of his moan and shudder, his own climax and gasping breaths.
I am finally sated.
My legs shake as Jared’s muscles relax, as he moves to release me. I unwind my iron grip around his hips and let him lay me back on the bed and weave our limbs together in an embrace.
He plants soft kisses along my jaw, creeping toward my mouth, and I balk. No matter how intimate it was to explore the taboos of spanking and power exchange, a kiss will remain the most intimate thing between us.
It’s too intimate right now. My heart is raw, laid bare from the intensity of what we just shared. I’m lying to him every moment I don’t tell him about the pregnancy.
Jared sighs, content, his head on the pillow beside me. I listen to his breathing in the dark, gathering my courage to ask a question that’s been pecking at the edges of my mind for weeks. The interview today brought it home.
“Tell me about your family.”
Jared pulls back, his face turned to look at me in the dim light that filters in from the hallway. “What do you want to know?”
“You showed me the house you grew up in. Tell me about your parents.”
“Parent,” Jared corrects me. “I told you my mom was single when she had me. When she got pregnant, her boyfriend didn’t want to deal with a baby. So he took off and she was stuck with me.”
“Stuck with you? That’s a pretty harsh assessment.”
“She never made me feel like I was unwanted, if that’s what you’re asking,” he says. “But the asshole who left her sure did.”
“You’ve never met him?”
“Never wanted to. I figure, anyone who’d abandon his girlfriend and their child isn’t someone I’d want to know.”
I fidget with the sheet, needing to draw a connection between then and now. “So would you ever, I mean, could you ever consider … being a father yourself?”
Jared sighs heavily, and I wish I had more light to see the expressions crossing his face. “I don’t think I’m cut out for that. Look at my life: I spend more time in hotels than at my apartment. I’m chained to my phone, and working sixty hours a week feels like fucking vacation.”
“But would you—ever?” I press.
“All I know is that I deserved more than what that sperm donor left my mom. A kid deserves more than I’ve got to give.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Small wars have been fought with fewer logistics than the 2016 Conover-Colton campaign.
Volunteers, pollsters, writers, social media specialists, communications coordinators, media buyers, web and mobile tech, graphic designers, travel planners. Everyone is part of the machine.
Even me.
I feel oddly disconnected. When I walk in the temporary campaign base on the outskirts of D.C., three days after the interview with the Hales, I can’t help but stare at the hugeness of it all. We need to reach one hundred and fifty million registered voters. Less than two-thirds of them will show up to the polls, but we need to make sure it’s our two-thirds, not voters in the Republican base.
Volunteers raise their heads and smile at me. They give me a nod or a little wave. I feel like a celebrity with Mac and Eric as entourage, but I also feel like I’m going to my sentencing.
Could Shep kick me off the ticket?
Will he hate me for screwing up our chances?
Will he tell me to terminate the pregnancy?
“Congresswoman Colton. What a nice surprise.”
I smile at the pretty volunteer receptionist and read her name tag. “Thank you, Allison. Can I grab a minute with Shep?”
“Mr. Rankin’s in a meeting with him now. I’ll let them know you’re here.”
He’s here? Jared’s supposed to be in New York working out something with Jim Boyle, a Democratic presidential primary contender who, for a short time, was Conover’s presumed running mate. I’ve been cagey about spending time with Jared, complaining of being tired, and he hasn’t argued the point since it seems like he’s on a plane every other day.
The reality is I’m stuck in my apartment with herbal tea, too many briefing papers and speeches to memorize, and a restless mind that won’t let me sleep.
“Grace.” My name on Jared’s lips is a low rumble, a summer thunderstorm heavy with warmth and promise. We’re out in the open with dozens of volunteers’ eyes watching, so I can’t reach for him.
He takes my hand and shakes it as if this is a formal meeting, then leads me to a conference room with frosted glass windows. He touches my back lightly to usher me inside, then closes the door behind us.
“I thought you were in New York?” I turn to him and his arms are around me in an instant, his mouth on my neck, his hands moving under my jacket to pull me close to his chest. I relish his hot breath that sends shivers of anticipation through me and let my body melt into his.
We just stand there in that embrace. Breathing. Being. Together.
I take a shaky breath and let out a long sigh of contentment. This is what I need to be whole. To be with this man whom I love beyond reason. To be assured he loves me. I pull my face back from him and press my lips to the corner of his mouth, hesitating, to feel where he wants us to go.
There is no question. He crushes his mouth to mine and demands everything—my whole focus, my whole heart—in this one kiss. His arms band around my ribcage so tightly I can hardly breathe and his tongue lashes against mine, demanding the kind of wicked acts we could do when we’re somewhere more private than campaign headquarters.
That thought shakes me out of my kiss-induced trance and I break our mouths apart, panting for breath. “I don’t want Shep to walk in right now.”
“Neither do I.” Another kiss and Jared lifts me off the ground in the strength of his embrace. “But he’ll be here in a second.”
Jared releases me just in time for Shep to walk in without knocking. Shep looks from Jared to me, sensing our connection, and smiles. “How are you, Grace?”
“Fine. Busy.”
“Jared tells me you’ve been tired. Are you good with the schedule changes?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Shep pulls out a chair and sits, nodding for me and Jared to join him at the conference table. “How is Sasha working out? She’s a fireball.”
“She is. I think … I think she’s doing a good job.” My mind spins for some excuse to get Jared out of the room so I can speak with Shep privately. I have to tell him. I owe it to him. But I can’t do it while Jared is here and my nerve is slipping away.
“Jared, could
you give us a minute, please?” My eyes beg him to understand, but his expression slams closed, confused by the fact that I’m kicking him out of this meeting.
“Something on your mind?” Jared makes no move to stand.
Shep rescues me. “Actually, now’s a great time for you to see if you can get the Charlotte meet-and-greets nailed down, especially with the governor.”
Jared looks from Shep to me, telegraphing annoyance from his whole body, but he stands. “No problem.”
When the conference door closes behind him harder than necessary, I let out a breath. I can do this. It’s just a few words. I bow my head.
“Sometimes the best way is just to rip off the Band-Aid,” Shep says gently. “Something’s bothering you. Is it Sasha? I know she can be abrasive, but after Jared made the call, I thought he could be right. We need more hands on deck and she’s as competent as they come. Smart and thorough.”
I shake my head, my eyes glued to the table in front of us. I can’t meet his crinkling brown eyes that charm voters with a depth of pathos and warmth few other politicians can match. “It isn’t Sasha. She’s good. It’s … me.”
“I told you before. The pictures aren’t an issue for me. You can decide when or whether to make your relationship with Jared public. You did well on the Gloria Alton show even when she pressured you. The people who are howling the loudest about you dating? We were never going to get those voters anyway.”
I look up, swallowing to keep tears trapped, but Shep’s kind expression is my undoing. One tear splatters on the conference room table, followed by a couple more. I blink.
“Talk to me. What are you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid you’re going to hate me for this,” I whisper.
He straightens in his chair. “For what? For loving that bastard? We can’t control who we fall in love with, or when. It might not be politically expedient, but I learned a long time ago that if we sacrifice who we love for our ambitions, achieving them is a hollow victory.”
“How—how do you know that?” Shep’s statement sounds like he has some experience here, but nothing in his official biography suggests anything but a normal, if privileged, life. His father served as Missouri’s attorney general. He was born to become a public figure.
“I did some things I’m not proud of when I was younger. Took the political calculus too far and traded what I wanted to be for who I wanted to be with.” Shep reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “If Jared is the one you want to be with, don’t mess it up with this campaign business. This is the most important race of my life, but it’s also your life we’re talking about. Your happiness.”
I blink back more tears and raise my head to face him. “It’s not just about Jared.” I let out a shuddering breath and then rip off the Band-Aid. Hard. “I’m pregnant.”
Whatever I expected in this frozen moment—anger, confusion, blame—coming from Shep, I never expected his smile to light up the whole room.
“You’re … you’re really? Oh, Grace.” Shep shoves back his chair and comes around the conference table, pulling me to standing and embracing me. “This is … this is just amazing.”
I squirm in Shep’s crushing hug, shocked into speechlessness. When he finally releases me, there are tears in his eyes too.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumble, still anticipating his disappointment in me for royally fucking over our campaign. “I never intended this to happen. I don’t want it to ruin your chances, or our chances. But I’m afraid that everything you worked for and fought for to get here is going to be destroyed if you don’t let me resign.”
Shep shakes his head vehemently. “Of course I’m not going to let you resign from the campaign. We’re partners in this.” A shadow crosses his face. “But you don’t plan … I mean, are you going to keep the baby?”
“Yes.” This quiet word has never held more power.
Shep exhales. “Thank God. Grace, I’m so happy for you.”
“But I could be showing by Election Day.”
“Doesn’t matter. I want you on my team.”
Shep’s absolute faith in me, his willingness to stand by me, nearly brings me to my knees. If only I could be certain that Jared feels the same way.
“Does Jared know?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know if he even wants it. We didn’t plan this. We didn’t try. I’m afraid to tell him and he’ll—”
Shep cuts me off. “If that bastard isn’t a million times happier than I am right now, he’s not the man I thought he was. He’ll want this child more than he’s ever wanted anything in the world. I promise you this.”
“You can’t make that kind of promise, Shep. He sees the world in black and white. He’s always focused on the next campaign, not on being a family man and settling down.”
“That’s because his own family was broken.” Shep pulls out the conference room chair and has me sit, then takes the chair next to mine, knees on his elbows, his expression serious. “Tell me what you’re really afraid of.”
I’m afraid of being Late Night’s punching bag.
I’m afraid I’m not cut out to juggle politics and motherhood.
“I’m afraid Jared will reject me and our baby,” I whisper, just one dimension of the fear gripping me. I’m also afraid we’ll become like our parents, his absentee father and my angry mother, blaming the child we never intended for the happiness we never realized.
“Why would he do that?” Shep probes.
“Maybe he’ll see this pregnancy as a betrayal.”
But the minute the word is out of my mouth, images from my first meeting with Jared rush to mind. He met me under false pretenses. He said we’d just have one night, no strings and no regrets. I had no idea that he knew me for who I am as a congresswoman, not just as a pretty lady to pick up in a bar.
And in the beginning, he fucked me just to see if he could control me. Jared’s confession of that was nearly our undoing.
But we got past it.
As if he’s reading my mind, Shep says, “I think Jared’s done enough things that he’s not proud of. I’m not going to let walking away from you be one of his mistakes.”
I huff, a single disbelieving sound. “I don’t think he’ll let you decide that any more than he’ll let me decide that.”
“He deserves to know he’s a father,” Shep counters. “When are you going to tell him?”
“I don’t know. I just know I’m not ready yet. I can’t bear for him to pretend he’s happy about it if he really doesn’t want it. Or me,” I add in a small voice. “I have to know how he feels before he makes up some bullshit reaction he thinks I want.”
Shep cocks his brow and smiles at me. “When have you ever known Jared to bullshit? Or pull punches?”
I tuck my chin, imagining the worst possible reaction from him. “That’s what I’m afraid of, too.”
Shep touches my cheek, a tender gesture. “Listen to me. I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished so far and I promised to stand by you. I’m going to keep that promise. But you’ve got to tell Jared.”
“I”—I hesitate—“I’m not ready.”
His eyes narrow. “You tell him, or I will. I’m not going to let you ruin your future with Jared by layering on too many lies, or hedging too many bets. You’ve got to live and love bravely, more brave than you feel right now. I don’t want you to ruin things with Jared before you’ve even had a chance to let them properly start.”
He squeezes my hand and his pep talk starts to sink in. Maybe I can do this. “Thanks, Shep.”
He chuckles. “You stay healthy and keep your eye on the ball. We’ve got a new wrinkle with the debates coming up. It’s time to kick some Republican ass.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I crawl into bed before ten with far more questions than answers.
What should I say at the speech at Trey’s school to make the kids wake up?
Would paying off my mother buy her silence?
And the most import
ant question: How can I tell Jared? And when?
A click and a rasp signals the opening of my condo’s front door. There’s only one person the Secret Service would let through at this hour.
Jared.
His name is a sigh, a soothing reminder that I can be grounded. I pry open one eye and in the dim light from the hallway see him kick off his shoes before he climbs into bed behind me, the big spoon, and curls his body around mine.
“You came.”
“How could I not?” Jared breathes against the back of my hair, his words intoxicating with their pull on me.
“I looked for you at HQ. Before I left. I couldn’t find you.”
“I had to run out to a meeting. No way to drop you a note without being obvious.”
“You could have texted me.”
“You could have kept me in the meeting with Shep.” His tone has a brittle edge and now I know why he jetted from the campaign office without a word. He was angry.
“Are you still mad at me?”
“It depends. What did you talk about?”
That question seals my lips and I chew on the inside of my cheek, grateful I’m facing away from him in the darkness so he can’t see the expressions move like clouds across my face.
Fear. Uncertainty. Doubt. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Jared tightens his grip around my middle, unaware his hand is just inches from that tiny human who will burst into our lives in seven months’ time. “Aren’t we past this? Do we really have to keep secrets from each other?”
Yes. Yes. Yes. “I just don’t want to talk about it. It’s not like it’s a secret.”
“Does it have something to do with Marilyn Garcia making a surprise visit to your office today?”
I draw a sharp breath. “How did you know about that?”
“Come on. You think I don’t watch our linked calendars? I came back from New York early and I was going to drop by, but Trey added her sometime before my plane landed. She wasn’t on your calendar when I took off.”
The Phoenix Campaign (Grace Colton Book 2) Page 7
