by Ivy Jordan
His smile was warm, but not flirty, easing my anxiety. “Wow, this looks like a pretty good mix,” he said, and then turned his attention to me. “This is your work?” he asked, but offered a tone that said he already knew it was.
“Yes,” I agreed, smiling just enough to be polite, but not to show any signs of my giddiness.
I could still taste his sweet kiss on my lips, and feel his tight grip on my ass. Stop it, Quinn!
“It looks like I’ll be traveling for a couple of these events. Can you clear your schedule?” he asked, looking directly at me.
His voice was filled with authority and strength, and nowhere on his expression could I see the desire, passion, and desperation he’d shown me just hours ago.
“Yes, Mr. President,” I agreed, keeping the same professional tone.
Michael’s eyes were on me; I could feel them without even having to look in his direction. My nerves were shaken as I remembered him finding me in such bad shape after our first make-out session.
“Thank you, Ms. Hamilton, Michael,” Adam said quickly.
The door to the Oval Office opened to reveal the VP and the two Secret Service men. Michael turned to leave, motioning for me to follow.
It was a relief to be out of the office, away from Adam and out of Michael’s judging eyes. “Great job,” Michael said, surprising me by his kindness.
“Thank you,” I said.
“It’s good that you know him so well. That’s already proven to be valuable with the first round of PR events,” he smiled.
Wow. Michael Guidry complimented me.
The rest of my day was spent with the press secretary. We discussed the mood of the people, which was fortunately mostly good. There were still questions about Adam’s divorce, and allegations his ex-wife had made before he ran for office. “You were the one closest to him during that time. And from what I understand, the one who helped clear it up,” Guy Louvre, the press secretary, stated matter-of-factly.
“It was not so much cleared up as it was never proven,” I pointed out.
“A single POTUS is always a struggle to keep in a good light,” Guy said. “A divorced one with a jilted, vindictive, and angry ex-wife is even harder to keep in the good graces of the people,” he added.
“What’s your plan?” I asked, hoping that we could work together to keep Adam looking confident and worthy until he had been given enough time to prove himself.
“Find him a woman,” Guy chuckled.
I swallowed hard. “I think it’s not wise to have him date so soon in office,” I argued, feeling a trace of jealousy flow through my veins.
“It’s just always easier to show the soft side of a POTUS when there is a first lady involved,” Guy insisted.
I couldn’t agree with him more from a PR standpoint, but I knew I wanted to be that woman, and that for me—for us—now wasn’t the time.
“There are plenty of amazing qualities that we can focus on,” I assured him.
“I’ll leave that to you then,” Guy said, sounding defeated, but not convinced I was making the right decision.
I glanced over his notes, changing a few comments about the scandal surrounding Adam’s ex-wife. “Stick to the facts. We know she’s lying, but we have no proof, nothing solid to make her this vindictive person she’s proven to be,” I stated.
“But we need to explain Adam’s side,” he argued.
“No, we don’t. Simply say there was never any proof to her allegations, and even though she was given every opportunity to provide names of the women she claimed to know had relations with her husband at the time, she never followed through. The president has always maintained his innocence in these allegations, and the court documents from their divorce have been made public and show no allegations that match what has since been said by the former Mrs. Andrews,” I spouted off quickly.
He nodded, jotted down what I said, and disappeared into his office to make his final draft for my approval.
Adam flew to Texas with the VP, one of the states he’d lost in the race. I’d created a list of things for him to say, not to say, and even what to wear while he visited. I was both excited and nervous to spend the few minutes alone with him in the Oval Office to brief him on my notes. “Do you have the notes?” Michael asked.
I pulled the folder from my briefcase and handed them to him, assuming he’d offer for me to tag along to deliver them.
He glanced over them, chuckling as he read. “Wow, you didn’t leave anything out, did you?”
“No. I think it’s best to give as much detail as possible,” I smiled.
“I’ll deliver these now. Why don’t you head home?” Michael suggested.
“There are still a few things I’d like to go over, and of course, if he has any questions—” I said, cut off by Michael’s interruption.
“I think this is more than enough. If he has questions, I’ll contact you,” he said with a stern smile.
I knew my face expressed my disappointment with my mouth parted, my eyes narrowed, and my jaw clenched tightly. Michael didn’t seem to notice, or care. “Have a good weekend, Quinn,” he said, and then turned to walk away.
Rowena sat on the back deck, sipping a glass of wine and thumbing through a magazine. “How was work?” she asked as I stepped outside.
“I love it,” I said excitedly.
She rolled her eyes and gave a small chuckle at my over-acting. She knew me well enough to know that I couldn’t possibly be that excited over my glorified babysitter-secretary position.
“How was your spa?” I asked, hoping to change the topic
“It was amazing,” she sighed, leaning back on the lounge chair, and closing her eyes as if she were remembering her experience. “So, what do you love about the job?” she asked, snapping back to the topic I knew would end on Adam.
“It’s just exciting being in the White House,” I said quickly.
“You mean it’s exciting being in the White House with Adam?” she asked with a smirk.
“That’s not what I said. I’ve barely seen Adam,” I shot back with a quick smile.
She seemed to be satisfied with my response, going back to her relaxing state without more questions or concerned looks.
I took my work into my bedroom, going over the itinerary for the upcoming events. My heart fluttered as my eyes glanced at the events I knew he’d asked me to clear my schedule in order to be able to attend by his side. It would be like our days on the campaign trail—well, sort of.
My stomach was twisting with emotion and worry as I realized the trips could end with us in bed together. He’d said he wasn’t going to give up, and I knew it wouldn’t take much for me to finally give in.
By Sunday evening, the anxiety of falling into Adam’s arms and the wrath of the media was more than I could bear. I had to talk to him, and at work, it was proving impossible.
I dialed his personal cell phone, hoping he’d be alone when he answered.
“Hello,” he said, a sweet Southern twang flirting in his voice.
“Sounds like Texas wore off on you,” I chuckled.
“Why, yes, ma’am, it surely did,” he laughed.
It was obvious he was alone from his playful tone, so I took a deep breath.
“I would like to talk, about… us, if that’s okay,” I said.
“This is something I’d prefer to do in person. Can you come to dinner tonight?” he asked.
“At the White House?” I asked, surprised by the suggestion.
“Yes. I’ll send a car for you,” he said quickly.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I said.
His voice was deep as it let out a chuckle. There was something sexy in the vibration of his throat rumble.
“It’s just dinner. The place is fairly private on the weekends,” he said.
“Okay,” I agreed, even though I knew it wasn’t the best of ideas.
“I’ll send the driver to Rowena’s at seven,” he said, and then paus
ed.
I listened to the silence, wondering if there wasn’t something else he wanted to say, or expected me to say.
“Thank you,” I said finally, and then hung up before another awkward silence.
“Where are you off to?” Rowena asked.
I stood in the living room, wearing a sleek, sexy black cocktail dress, and my finest diamond necklace to accentuate my cleavage. “Dinner,” I admitted.
“Wow. He’s going to be knocked off his feet,” she said with a smile.
“Is it too much?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious of my choice.
“Too much? Is it personal or business?” Rowena asked.
“Both, I guess,” I stammered.
Her eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed tightly together as she gave me a once over. “Quinn,” she scolded.
My cheeks blushed with heat as my eyes tried to unlock from hers. “It’s not what you think,” I said.
“So, it is Adam?” she asked, prodding.
“Yes,” I admitted quickly.
“How will that look? You two out on a date for dinner?” she questioned.
“We won’t be out. He’s sending a car, and it’s at the White House,” I explained.
Rowena sighed and rolled her eyes. “That’s even worse,” she groaned.
“We just want to talk,” I said.
She chuckled. “There won’t be much talking with you in that dress.”
I knew she was right. What was I thinking? I should change. “Looks like your driver’s here,” she said, peeking out the front window.
Shit!
“Should I change?” I asked just as my phone beeped to alert me to the driver’s arrival.
“You can’t keep the POTUS waiting,” she smirked.
She was right again.
I offered my sister a weak smile and slid out of the front door. Lou immediately complimented me on my attire, making me even more aware that I’d dressed for a hot date, not for the talk I needed to have with Adam.
“Have a great night. I’ll be here to collect you when you’re ready,” Lou said with a strange smile.
“Thank you,” I said, and walked towards the two Secret Service men that were waiting and ready to escort me to the dining room.
Adam stood at the long wooden table with a drink in his hand. His dark hair had speckles of gray, his blue eyes widened upon landing on my image, and his lips, his delicious lips, curled into a crooked smile.
He nodded to the men who’d escorted me to the private dining room, and they quickly disappeared out of the room, closing the door behind them.
We were alone, in the White House, me, wearing this dress, and Adam wearing that sexy smile; we were alone.
“You look ravishing,” he said, his smile widening as he spoke.
My cheeks burnt, my palms beaded up with sweat, and my tongue frantically rolled around the back of my upper teeth.
“Thank you. You look very handsome,” I said softly.
His dress shirt sleeves were rolled to just below his elbows, and his jeans were perfectly pressed and bright-blue denim. He was casual, and I was anything but casual.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked, his voice somewhat shaken. Was he nervous?
“Yes, please,” I agreed, but scolded myself to keep it just one.
I couldn’t afford to lose control, not around Adam.
“What’s your pleasure?” he asked, his confidence returning in his tone.
“White wine,” I replied, still standing at the entrance of the grand room.
Adam moved to the bar, pouring me a white wine into a long-stemmed crystal glass. I walked toward him, my knees weakening with each step.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the glass from his hand.
He held on for a second, allowing his hand to graze against mine. Just that touch, that simple, quick touch, sent electricity through my veins.
“I’m overdressed,” I whispered.
He smiled wide, his eyes glistening against the light in the room. “No. You look amazing.”
“I—I just… I’ve never had dinner at the White House before, let alone with the president of the United States,” I said playfully.
I sipped on my wine, letting it soothe my nerves as he chuckled at my comment.
“This is all new to me too, Quinn,” he said softly.
He extended his hand to mine, pulling me closer. “You smell terrific,” he whispered, slowly allowing his nose to slide just inches from my neck.
My nipples hardened, but my body relaxed, almost melting into him at his words.
“Dinner is ready, Mr. President. Would you like to start?” a man wearing a white chef’s coat and tall hat entered the room.
His presence startled me, causing me to pull back from our intimate position. This is why you’re here, Quinn, because this can’t happen.
“Yes. That would be great,” Adam said, moving a couple steps from intimacy as well. “Please, sit,” Adam said, motioning towards the table.
He walked with me, moving slowly behind me, and I could feel his eyes on my ass. I took the seat directly to the left of the head seat as Adam pulled my chair out, and then back in as I sat.
“I remembered you loved pasta,” he said with a smile.
“Yes,” I smiled.
The chef returned back into the room with a silver tray. He placed a bowl of minestrone soup in front of Adam, and then myself. It was my mother’s favorite recipe, a treat she’d only take the time to make for very special occasions.
My first bite sent me back to when I was a girl and Adam had sat at our dining room table. It was the last time she’d made it.
“Being a single president, it gets lonely at dinner time,” he said, a flicker of pain shooting from his heart and out of his eyes.
“I’m sure you stay busy through dinner most nights,” I said.
“Yes. But if I had someone waiting, I’d have reason to not work so late,” he said softly.
Dinner was linguini noodles with scampi shrimp and roasted artichokes, served with a clam sauce better than any I’d ever eaten before. “Would you like to come to my private quarters?” he asked, his voice shaken and nervous once again.
I was frozen with my thoughts, unable to answer due to the struggle in my mind. No. I shouldn’t, that will only complicate things. Yes. I should; he’s Adam Andrews, my dear friend and the man I’d had a crush on for years. Who cares that he just happens to be the POTUS?
“I promise not to bite. It’s just more private to talk about whatever it is you had on your mind,” he said sweetly.
“Yes. I’d like that,” I said quickly, wanting desperately to believe that’s all we’d do: talk. I knew better.
Adam scooted his chair from the table and then moved behind me to pull mine out. He took my hand, my sweaty, shaking hand in his, and smiled sweetly as he guided me from the dining room to his private quarters.
The large doors opened to an impressive space, but all I could focus on was the large bed.
“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling me into him closely.
His breath was hot as it gently hit my neck. My body melted into his arms, my mind went blank, forgetting any reason I had to talk, or even what I wanted to talk about.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered.
No. Tell him no, the reasonable voice inside my head warned.
The only thing that escaped my lips was a sigh as my head fell back and invited Adam’s lips to explore my neck. “Does that mean yes?” he chuckled softly.
“Yes,” I gasped as his mouth pressed into my sensitive skin, his teeth grazing slowly against the large vein in my neck.
He pulled back, stared into my eyes with the deep-blue beauties that melted my heart. My eyes closed as he neared my mouth, our lips touching to create a thunderous explosion of passion.
His hands gripped at my waist, pulling tight with his fingers digging into my flesh as I ground against his erection.
“I can’t stay away from you
,” he groaned, his voice vibrating through my nipples.
I couldn’t stay away from him, either. I’d come here to talk, to tell him we couldn’t do this, and here I was, in his private bedroom, in his arms, under his spell.
The weight of his hand slid to my shoulder, sliding my dress strap down, and his lips immediately pressed into the newly exposed skin.
My mouth searched his neck, sucking his sensitive flesh and causing him to growl. My panties clung to my skin, my pussy swelling and pressing against the silk. The room spun out of control as my head went light, and my body limp with excitement.
I closed my eyes, trying desperately to pull myself from this passion, but it was useless. His grip, his mouth, his scent—it was too much to deny.
Adam pushed into me, walking me backward until my legs hit the soft mattress. His hand pressed into the small of my back, bending me onto the bed. I didn’t fight him.
The mattress swelled around me like soft clouds as I squirmed with excitement and anticipation. Adam stood back, staring at me. His lips curled into that sexy, irresistible, crooked smile. He shook his head slowly, growling as his eyes rolled down my body, and then back up again.
Even without touching me, he was sending wild sensations through my body, causing me to tingle, ache, and yearn for his hands, mouth, and body to be on me.
His fingers moved to his shirt, resting on the top button as his blue eyes dug into me with hunger and desire. I watched as he unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time. His strong chest was tan, smooth, and chiseled as it was revealed from under the material.
I sighed as he slid the shirt from his body. His tongue glided across his lips slowly, and he leaned himself over my body.
He dangled his lips over mine, close enough to feel the heat of his breath, but not close enough to taste.
I reached up, unable to handle his teasing any longer, pressing my mouth against his. My tongue explored his, entangling around it and sucking every ounce of delicious flavor he had to offer.
His hard cock ground into my side and upper thigh, teasing me with strong thrusts, and a smooth, erotic rhythm.
He lifted from me, taking his mouth from my reach. My hands gripped around him, digging into his back with my long fingernails as I arched my back to reach him once more.
