Jameson grinned. “What are you doing?”
Without reply, Candace reached around Jameson’s back and unhooked her bra, discarding it on the floor. She licked her lips and let her hands travel over Jameson’s back. She’d missed Jameson. Missed making love. Missed feeling Jameson close. Missed letting go of everything that consumed her daily thoughts. Exhaustion, stress, and something Candace had yet to identify held her back from intimacy. She felt Jameson’s lips press to hers and immediately had her answer. Control. For the first time in many years, Candace feared losing control—any control. She closed her eyes and held onto her wife.
Jameson pulled back to look at Candace. She cupped Candace’s face in her hands and smiled. She understood Candace’s silent plea. She traced Candace’s lips with a fingertip. When Candace’s hands reached to touch her, Jameson caught them. “No,” she whispered.
“No?”
“Not yet,” Jameson said. She unbuttoned Candace’s blouse slowly, her eyes holding Candace in place. She watched as Candace’s breath hitched. The softness of Candace’s skin greeted her touch, and Jameson peeled away the fabric until it fell in a puddle on the floor. “So beautiful,” she whispered.
Candace closed her eyes and reveled in the sensation of Jameson’s lips as they traveled from her shoulder to her neck, and back down again. She gripped Jameson’s waist to steady her rising emotions and arousal. An innocent touch from Jameson often sparked desire from Candace. Tenderness never disguised passion—not between them—never. “Jameson.”
“Shh,” Jameson cooed. She deftly led Candace backward to the bed. Her hands unbuttoned Candace’s slacks, and Jameson dropped to her knees to remove them.
“Not fair,” Candace complained.
Jameson chuckled, and stood to face her wife. “What’s not fair?”
“You have me at a disadvantage,” Candace replied.
Jameson’s relieved Candace of her bra and let her eyes rake over the sight before her. She felt Candace shudder slightly, and caught Candace’s hands again when they reached for her. “Stop.”
“Jameson.”
“No,” Jameson said gently. She brushed her knuckles across Candace’s cheek. “No,” she repeated the word. “Let me love you tonight. Just let me make love to you.”
Candace swallowed the lump in her throat. She still felt the inclination to take control. It was foreign—this feeling existing with Jameson. She’d never experienced restraint with Jameson, not to hold back or redirect their lovemaking. She closed her eyes and struggled to catch her breath. Her hands fell onto Jameson’s chest. She shook her head lightly.
“I know,” Jameson said. She followed her words with a gentle kiss that quickly deepened. Candace grew eager more quickly than usual. Jameson pulled away. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Tears slipped from underneath Candace’s eyelids. She felt herself lowered to the mattress and opened her eyes. Jameson hovered above her. She caressed Jameson’s cheek. “I—”
“Stop,” Jameson said. “Stop thinking. Stop debating. Stop admonishing yourself. Just feel me.”
How many times had Candace made love with Jameson—to Jameson? Countless. How many times had she watched Jameson undress? She could never tire of the woman above her. Candace watched as Jameson sat back and methodically undressed. Beautiful was inadequate. Everything. That was Jameson. Everything Candace had ever hoped, dreamed, and desired was embodied in Jameson Reid. Jameson possessed strength that was tempered by gentleness. Candace felt both in every touch of Jameson’s fingertips, in the kisses they shared, and the smiles they exchanged across a room. She resisted the temptation to close her eyes when Jameson’s hand caressed her breast. She wet her lips and held her breath.
“Let it go,” Jameson said.
“What?”
“All of it,” Jameson said. “Everything you’ve been holding inside.” She kissed Candace’s neck and let her lips linger behind Candace’s ear. “All of it.”
Candace made another attempt to touch Jameson.
Jameson placed Candace’s hands over her head and held them down. “No.”
Candace groaned.
“No,” Jameson said. She kissed her way over Candace’s throat down to the top of her cleavage. “Leave them where they are.”
“Leave them?”
“Your hands. Leave them. Let me love you tonight. I’ll stop, Candace.” Jameson let her breath wash over Candace’s breast. She glanced up and held Candace’s gaze for a moment before tracing Candace’s nipple with her tongue.
“Oh, God.”
“You can call Him all you like,” Jameson said. “Just leave your hands where they are.” She returned to her exploration of Candace’s body. Her hands sensually glided over every inch of Candace—from her sides to the hollow of her throat, and over the rise of her breasts. Jameson sucked on one nipple and pinched the other with her fingers.
“Jameson.”
Jameson quickly lost herself. She wanted more than to make love to Candace; she wanted to command this moment. She desired to have Candace give everything away. Somehow, Jameson knew that’s what they both needed. She’d spent weeks feeling helpless to ease Candace’s stress. Candace tried to stay poised and calm no matter what she faced at work. Jameson was determined to be supportive and chose to remain silent about her inward struggles. They’d both expected Candace’s ascension to the presidency to present challenges. Jameson admitted silently that they had both underestimated the magnitude of the change. It had all spilled over into their marriage. Jameson needed to guide Candace back to the place they both belonged—a place where nothing was hidden or held back.
“Jameson,” Candace pleaded.
Jameson glided against Candace. She reached up and grasped Candace’s hands firmly, pinning them to the bed. “No. Not tonight. Open your eyes.”
Candace complied with Jameson’s direction. Jameson’s fiery gaze sent pleasant shivers up and down her spine. Her body tingled with anticipation. Jameson was seldom forceful. Candace was surprised at the way her body responded.
“Every inch of you—that’s what I want,” Jameson said. “You are going to let me touch every inch of you before you touch one part of me.”
Candace sucked in a ragged breath. Jameson’s right hand held Candace’s arms over her head. Her other hand began a slow descent over Candace’s shoulder, making Candace shiver.
Jameson watched her fingertip as it traced a delicate pattern over Candace’s flesh. She barely allowed it to graze Candace’s skin, tempting and taunting Candace’s lust to rise to the surface. Languidly, it traveled, lightly brushing each of Candace’s nipples. Jameson smiled when Candace’s hips arched in desperation, seeking more. “I’ve barely begun,” Jameson whispered. She claimed Candace’s mouth with a passionate kiss—deep, wet, and probing. Candace fought her for dominance and Jameson pulled away. “No.”
Candace groaned.
“That’s not what you want,” Jameson said.
Not what I want? Candace was about to scream. She wanted to touch Jameson. She wanted Jameson to end the teasing. She craved release—violent, heart-pounding, stomach-clenching release. “It is,” Candace said.
Jameson kissed Candace softly before allowing her lips to gently nip the flesh of Candace’s left shoulder. “No,” Jameson said. Her mouth encircled Candace’s nipple. She raked her teeth over the tip. Candace cried out. Jameson swirled her tongue around the peak, sucking gently, then firmly. Candace panted. Jameson delighted in the wetness she felt brush against her thigh. She gave Candace a hint of what was left to come. She sucked on the small pink bud tenderly, then forcefully, then tenderly again, never relenting. She listened to the sound of Candace’s sighs and moans, certain that Candace was spiraling out of control. She moved to Candace’s other nipple and tugged with her teeth. Back and forth, she continued. Candace quivered beneath her.
“Jameson, please.”
No. Jameson refused to stop. Candace struggled to get free from Jameson’s grasp. Jameso
n tightened her grip. She bathed Candace’s breasts over and over and slipped her thigh between Candace’s legs.
Candace’s head spun. Her heart skipped in an off-beat rhythm. Every nerve in her body seemed to cry out for relief. She desperately tried to make contact with Jameson. Each time she got close Jameson would pull away slightly. She gasped when the heat of Jameson’s tongue slipped lower.
Jameson looked up at Candace. “Leave your hands where they are.” She let go of Candace’s wrists. Her lips fluttered over Candace’s stomach. Her hands took over the task her mouth had left behind. True to her word, Jameson tasted every inch of Candace. She kissed Candace’s hips, her thighs, down her legs, and up again, over her stomach, back to her breasts, and did it all again—and again—and again.
Candace wasn’t sure how many times she’d begged Jameson to stop—then to continue—then to stop. Jameson ignored her pleas. She was about to give up hope when a sudden burst of warmth covered her center. She tried to cry out. She sat up slightly and moaned at the sight Jameson’s of fingers toying with her nipples. She wanted to reach out. She stopped herself. Her eyes had become riveted to Jameson making love to her.
Jameson glanced up and met Candace’s hungry gaze. “Watch,” she instructed.
Candace lost her breath. She wanted to watch Jameson. She’d watched Jameson touch her millions of times. Tonight felt different. She followed Jameson’s right hand as it moved to slip between her legs. The sensation of Jameson moving inside her compelled her to close her eyes.
Jameson stopped.
Candace opened her eyes.
“Watch,” Jameson demanded. “I can do this all night, Candace. Test me.” Please. Test me.
Candace nearly choked. She bit her bottom lip and forced herself to focus on Jameson. “Oh, God,” she muttered. “Oh… Jameson… Jesus.”
Jameson noted the increasing quaver of Candace’s legs. She thrust deeper and sucked on Candace softly.
Candace fell back onto the bed. Her body spasmed without warning. She grasped the sheets and held on tight. She tried to speak, tried to direct Jameson to stop. No sound came. Jameson’s fingers twirled inside her and Candace thought her body might levitate.
Jameson moaned into Candace. She slowed the pace of her fingers and kissed Candace’s center. She didn’t stop—not completely. She guided Candace from violent quaking into a series of soft shudders, and then finally into a state of lingering quivers. She ascended Candace’s body sensually until she came face to face with her wife.
“My God,” Candace said.
“I love you, Candace.”
“I love you too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?”
“Yes. I’ve held too much back and I…”
“I know. We both have,” Candace agreed. “I don’t need you to protect me. And never from what you feel, Jameson.”
“I know that. I can’t help that I want to keep you safe, even from my doubts.”
Candace smiled. “You do, keep me safe—like this—knowing what I need. Knowing me and being you—that’s how you protect me. I’ve held back too. I need to let go.”
“I know. And, I need you to believe that I can handle whatever it is you need to give me or need from me.”
Candace caressed Jameson’s cheek and pulled her into an embrace. “I missed you.”
Jameson hummed.
“Jameson?”
“I was thinking that this feels better than anything. Being with you like this.”
For a few months, there had been a barrier between them, not a wall. Perhaps it was more like a fence. They’d discussed it. They’d agree to be open, and still, Jameson hesitated to tell Candace how much she missed home. And Candace failed to share her fear. The fear that she might make a decision that would cost innocent people their lives. Jameson needed to lead once in a while. Candace needed Jameson to assume that role. Their life and their marriage had always been a dance. They’d been out of step. Tonight, they’d found their way back to their natural rhythm.
“I can think of a few other ways you could be.”
Jameson chuckled. “Would you be upset if I told you this is exactly where I want to be right now? I just want to fall asleep against you.”
Candace kissed Jameson’s head. “Not at all.”
“But I’ll take a raincheck. You know, if you’d like to try me another way. Any other way.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good.” Jameson grinned against Candace’s breast. “You know, they have some interesting shops in Amsterdam.”
Candace laughed.
“What? They do!”
“I can’t wait to see the Secret Service’s reaction when you make that request.”
Jameson sniggered. “I’ll make sure it’s in camera view.”
Candace smiled and closed her eyes. “I’d expect nothing less, you lunatic.”
“First Lunatic.”
“That, you certainly are.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
A WEEK LATER
Candace wandered down the hallway toward Cooper’s room. He’d been quiet all evening. She didn’t require an explanation. Tomorrow, she would leave for her first trip abroad with Jameson. They had discussed the possibility of Cooper accompanying them. Jameson had argued that he would miss too much time at school. Candace thought that the trip might be good for him. Her schedule seemed to fill more by the minute. She would be moving from one event to another, country to country for twelve days. This trip mattered, and not only for public perception. It was a precursor to the G8 Summit that Candace would attend in June. She’d spoken with all of the leaders she would meet on this excursion. She’d met a handful of them in-person over the years. But there were several leaders that Candace had yet to sit beside. Phone calls could be productive. In her experience, sitting across from a person was the best way to forge a relationship. You could learn about a person from their demeanor—the way they looked at you or avoided your eyes. She needed to remain focused on her agenda this trip, and she would have little attention to give to Cooper. In the end, she and Jameson agreed that it was best he stay in Washington DC with Pearl.
Many things continued to weigh on Candace’s heart and her mind. Gathering intelligence—verifiable intelligence was a slow process. She’d taken three calls from Alex since Alex and Cassidy’s visit the previous weekend. None of those calls saw discussion about pool tables or excitable children. All of the conversations left Candace wondering if there was an end to the rabbit hole they were traveling down. It seemed endless—full of unexpected turns and dead-ends. They had barely begun their descent. Alex informed her that Claire was on her way to Kiev. From there, Claire would make her way to Elblag, a city on the northeastern edge of Poland. Alex explained that they had reliable contacts in the area. She was hopeful that Claire might discover information about recent movement in Kaliningrad. She also cautioned Candace that the possibilities were endless. Claire might return empty-handed, or she might find herself following a completely different trail. She shook off her musings. At the moment, Candace’s concern was Cooper. Somehow, she needed to lighten his spirits. It had been a while since both she and Jameson had been away for more than a few days. Back then, she’d had Marianne, Pearl, Jonah, Shell, and Jameson’s parents all nearby to soften the sting of their absence. She was grateful for Pearl. She also understood that Cooper would have moments of loneliness and insecurity. She’d lined up a few surprises that she hoped might help ease Cooper’s worry. She wondered how many secrets she’d need to disclose before he would go to bed.
Candace stepped into the doorway of Cooper’s room and grinned. She loved to watch Cooper when he was unaware of her presence. He was sitting at his desk. Candace guessed that he was drawing. He tapped a pencil on the edge of the desk, then on his head, and then against his lips. She’d seen Jameson do the same thing millions of times over the years. Both Spencer and Cooper sought to emulate Jameson whenever they could—so much so, tha
t many of her habits and mannerisms had naturally become theirs. It made her heart soar and ache at the same time. As she watched Cooper mimic his momma, her thoughts traveled to Jameson.
It had taken more time than Candace imagined for Jameson to open up about her feelings. Long talks, more than the usual tears, and a new understanding had passed between them over the last week. Candace committed to quality time with Jameson. She promised herself that she would talk to Jameson about as much as she could. When she could not share specifics, she would confide to Jameson how she felt about the issues she faced at work. Jameson agreed that the best way to support each other was a return to the openness they had always enjoyed. Jameson’s first revelations did not come as a surprise. Jameson admitted to a struggle with depression over her infertility. She told Candace she knew it was foolish. Foolish?
“It’s foolish,” Jameson said.
“It most certainly is not,” Candace disagreed.
“But it is. There’s nothing I can do to change it, Candace. And, who knows that we would have made that decision or conceived successfully even if we had?”
Candace nodded. “True. Something precious was taken out of your control, Jameson. The decision was taken out of your hands. That’s never easy. It’s the same thing as mourning a death.”
“I don’t think—”
“It is,” Candace said. She reached over and took Jameson’s hand. “It hurts me too.”
“I’m sorry—”
“No. No. I can see it in your eyes. I understand. I do. You’re an incredible mother.”
Jameson shook her head.
“You are, and not just to Cooper. I am so thankful that our children have you to guide them. If you had come to me and said that you wanted to have a baby,” Candace stopped mid-thought.
“What?” Jameson asked
“Oh, at first I thought any idea of a baby was absurd. At my age? With the insanity that lives in our days? But, I know—if that is what you wanted—if you had asked me to try… Well, I would have been over the moon.”
Jameson nodded.
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