“You two are sweet, really, but I’ve still got work to do today.”
I released Georgie and turned to Justice Ormsby, who was smiling happily. I surprised her with a hug, and then we followed her back to her chambers to sign the marriage license and the other necessary paperwork.
“I’ll have this sent over in a few days,” she informed us just before we left.
“I have a surprise for you,” I announced as we slid into the back of the limousine.
Georgie was looking down at the gold band recently added to her finger, grinning foolishly. I grabbed her left hand and brought it up to my lips, kissing it reverently, adding an unspoken vow to the ones we’d already pledged.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it,” she finally responded. My eyebrows shot up; she wasn’t going to try to pepper me with question after question, trying to wheedle the information out of me? Marriage was already changing her.
The motorcade bypassed the White House and headed for the airfield where Air Force One waited for us. The limousine pulled in front of the massive jet, and I helped Georgie out. She gasped in surprise, and I could see her battling with herself to ask questions, but she kept her lips tightly closed.
We walked up the staircase and into the plush cabin. The flight wouldn’t last long, so there was no need to make use of the conference room; I wasn’t doing any work today. And even though the bedroom was tempting, I didn’t want to consummate our marriage on board an aircraft. We settled into our seats and sipped from celebratory glasses of champagne. None of the crew on board knew that we were married. After Georgie’s miscarriage, I started wearing a wedding band to symbolize my commitment to her. There was speculation that we married in Finland, which we denied multiple times. So the fact I wore a wedding band wouldn’t have seemed strange to the crew, and Georgie’s massive emerald practically hid hers. Our secret was safe for now.
We arrived in Boston, and once Georgie and I deplaned, I could tell that she was ready to burst with questions.
“Just ask them,” I told her.
“No. I want to be surprised,” she said resolutely.
“Suit yourself.”
I saw her eyes widen as we passed the exits we would normally take for our home in Beacon Hill, and then she uttered a small gasp when she realized where we were heading.
“You’re taking me home? To New Hampshire?”
“You’ll see,” I answered cryptically.
We sped along the coast, past the exits for Exeter, and Georgie’s curiosity only grew. I could see her eyes darken with the mystery of my surprise. She perched on the very edge of her seat, looking out through the heavily tinted windows for any clue. I reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her back to me.
“I put the Beacon Hill property up for sale,” I informed her. When she started to protest, I placed a finger over her lips, silencing her. “I bought something new, something that I want to be our home. I want a family with you, and I want them to grow up here.”
My hand slid down her thigh and under the skirt of the blue dress she wore. “This is where we will start our family,” I whispered, running my nose along the column of her neck.
“Jameson,” Georgie breathed out.
“We’re here.” I could tell by the sound of tires crunching along the uneven pavement that we were making our way down the private road that led to the property I’d recently purchased.
The limousine stopped, and we waited for the door to open. I urged Georgie out of the back, eager to not only show her the property, but to also get her inside and undressed.
“Oh my God,” she gasped.
The estate was massive, and the cedar shingles had weathered beautifully. The white trim had been freshly painted and popped against the dark brown siding and stonework. Then there was the view; the property was on the coast and provided us with a view of the Isles of Shoals and Gerrish Island in Maine.
“This is stunning, Jameson,” Georgie said, turning back to me.
“This is ours. This is where I want our life to continue.” I came up behind her and circled her waist with my hands. “Are you happy?”
“I’m in shock, Jameson. But yes, I’m happy.”
“Good. Let’s go inside.”
I took Georgie by the hand, and she followed me as I led her up the wide front porch and through the front doors. The house was sparsely furnished. We would take care of that later; for now, it had only a few essentials.
“Oh my,” Georgie breathed out. “The inside is just as gorgeous as the outside.”
I looked around and agreed. The walls were painted a light dove gray and the floors were a gleaming dark hardwood.
“Georgie,” I growled. My patience was wearing thin. I resisted the urge to devour her in the limousine and on Air Force One. Now that we were alone, I struggled to remain in control. I wanted my wife.
“Yes, Jameson.” She nodded in understanding.
I led Georgie up the winding staircase, where we disappeared behind the bedroom doors.
Georgie
“Again?” I mumbled, half asleep, when I felt Jameson’s roaming hands on my exhausted body.
“It’s our wedding night,” he purred in my ear.
I smiled at the thought. This was my wedding night. It was hard to believe that I would now refer to Jameson as my husband, and this night was even happening; months ago, I doubted we’d ever be married.
I turned to face him and draped my leg over his hip. I was still wet and ready after two previous rounds, so it was easy for him to fit the head of his cock at the center of my body and slide inside.
Jameson’s strong hands gripped my ass, holding me tightly while he moved in and out in a steady rhythm. He was taking his time with me; there was no need to rush when we had nowhere else to be but this house and this room. His lips grazed my ear, nipping at the flesh, before working their way down my neck to my collarbone, where he suckled the skin, no doubt leaving a mark.
My breathing became shallow and labored. I wouldn’t last long now, which was fine, because even though I wanted this connection, I also wanted to curl up in the comfort of Jameson’s embrace and sleep.
“Georgie,” Jameson said through gritted teeth. His pace quickened, and I knew he wouldn’t last long either. His stamina was amazing, but even Jameson had his limits.
He dragged his hand from my ass, over the curve of my hip, and down between our connected bodies. His fingers found my soaking wet core, and he gently strummed my clit, ensuring that my body would quickly implode.
“That’s it,” he growled. I began to pant and shake against him, and his fingers worked furiously. “I want it, Georgie. I want it back.”
I was confused by his words, but I couldn’t focus on them because I was literally bursting as my orgasm rocked me to the core. I threw my head back and screamed as Jameson buried himself so deeply and groaned loudly through his own release. He held my body against him until our hearts began to beat normally again and our breaths evened out.
“Jameson,” I whispered.
“Shh, little darling. Go to sleep now,” he commanded.
“No. What did you mean? What do you want back?”
Jameson sighed and rolled away slightly, our bodies separating. His hands moved across me until they rested against my stomach. His thumbs brushed my skin gently.
“We had a child,” he said, his voice low and hoarse, thick with emotion. “We made a child together and lost it. I want it back. I want another chance, Georgie.”
I couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped my lips. I worried so often that when I told him about my pregnancy, he didn’t want to be a father; that he didn’t want the distraction of a child. And then that pregnancy ended, and we never really spoke of it. Until now.
“Are you sure?” I asked finally.
“I wasn’t at first. When you told me that you were pregnant, it didn’t seem like the right time. And then you had a miscarriage, and it seemed like the universe was telling us i
t wasn’t meant to be. But everything’s different now. I’m ready to have a family with you.”
I brushed my hand along his cheek, feeling the prickly stubble of his beard against my palm. “I want that too,” I confessed, telling him what I had secretly desired since that moment in Finland. “It will happen.”
Jameson nodded, and then we dozed, falling to sleep comfortably wrapped in each other’s arms.
The sun was blinding as it streamed through the large picture window, affording anyone who slept in the master bedroom a gorgeous view of the rocky coastline. My first thought was I needed to get curtains on that window. ASAP. I stretched my deliciously used body and turned to face my husband but found an empty bed. I sat up and pulled the loose, top sheet around my body, tucking and tying it as best as I could. I had no idea where my luggage was, or if I even had any.
I ventured out into the hallway, and immediately, I smelled coffee. I followed the heavenly scent downstairs to an open and airy kitchen that also had an amazing view of the coastline. And an equally impressive view of my husband, who was leaning against the porcelain farmhouse sink, his arms spread wide across it.
“This house has some pretty awesome views,” I said, coming into the kitchen fully.
Jameson turned and laughed at my outrageous covering. “What are you wearing?”
“I didn’t know where my clothes were,” I said, frowning.
“They’re in the closet,” he informed me. I felt silly; I should have known to look there. This was our house, after all. “But I like this much better.”
He approached me slowly and deftly undid the knot at my waist, freeing the bunched fabric. Then he loosened the fabric tucked around my chest, and the whole contraption fell to the floor, leaving me exposed. Jameson grabbed me around the waist and lifted me onto the gold stone countertop. I yelped in surprise at the freezing sensation against my bare flesh. Jameson leaned forward, kissed me firmly on the lips, and then pulled away with a grin.
“Good morning, Mrs. Martin.”
I squealed with delight. I loved the sound of that. “Good morning, Mr. Martin.”
Jameson held up a finger. “It’s President Martin.”
I swatted him playfully in the chest. “What’s for breakfast, President Martin?”
“Cake,” he announced matter-of-factly. He walked over to the refrigerator, opened it, and pulled out a pink pastry box, which he proudly displayed. “We didn’t eat our wedding cake last night.”
There was no dining room table, so we ate in the kitchen. I sat on the countertop, wrapped in my sheet, and Jameson sat next to me. It was the most heavenly cake ever with layers of light, mocha-flavored cream between fluffy layers of vanilla cake.
“I have something else to tell you,” Jameson said, setting his fork down next to mine on the counter.
“What?” I had no idea what else he could possibly tell me after yesterday’s day full of surprises.
“I’m not running again.”
We had this conversation in the hospital in Finland. He announced he didn’t want to run again, and I told him to wait and to not make such a hasty decision. We had been back in the States for months, and like the pregnancy, we hadn’t spoken about it.
“Are you sure?”
Jameson nodded. “I’ve already spoken to Elias about it. He’s planning another run as an Independent.”
“Elias? Have you talked to DeWayne or Sean about it?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. I don’t know what to say to them without letting them down.”
“Just be honest, Jameson. After everything we’ve been through, I don’t see how they can be angry.”
“Because they’ve made sacrifices too. They gave up their lives for my dream, just like you did.”
“I didn’t give up my life, Jameson. I found my life.”
He gasped in surprise. I grabbed his hand, the one that bore the symbol of our promises to each other, and kissed his ring finger, just as he had done so many times with me.
“You gave me back my life, Jameson. What did I sacrifice for you? Misery? Loneliness? A career that really wasn’t going anywhere?”
He sighed in frustration and dropped his head. I placed a firm finger under his chin and tilted it back up to look into the arctic blue of his eyes. “They’ll understand,” I told him.
“I’m lucky that you’re my wife,” he finally said. “I’d hate to see what you’d do to any other man.”
I smirked and then hopped off the counter. “Let’s shower and get dressed. And then you can show me around this magnificent home that you bought for us.”
Jameson
Our “honeymoon” only lasted another day, and then we returned to Washington. When my term was over, I’d make it up to Georgie. I’d throw her a proper wedding and whisk her away to the most exotic and secluded island. But for now, this one night and one day were it. She was instantly in love with the house, already mentally filling it with furniture and family. I pictured everything she described perfectly and knew that I made the right choice when I picked this property.
I worked on Air Force One during our return flight, preparing to meet with Sean and DeWayne to tell them about my decision. They weren’t going to be happy; in fact, they probably were going to kill me. Especially once I told them Georgie and I were married. When we arrived at the White House, the media was there to greet us with their usual shutter snaps and flashing bulbs. This was one aspect of the job I would not miss. I hated constantly being in the press, but everything that I did was news, good or bad.
We waved and smiled secretly, relishing in the fact we knew something they didn’t. When they shouted questions at us, we just ignored them. They would know soon enough. I wasn’t worried about the American people being angry with us for eloping; I was more worried about my parents.
I left Georgie in the private residence. Her schedule wasn’t as hectic as mine, and since I’d fired Maxwell Edison, I think she was content not to be constantly absorbed in policy. She left me with a lingering kiss, one that said our honeymoon might have ended but we were still newlyweds celebrating.
“Good luck,” she said with a cheeky wink.
I rolled my eyes and then walked slowly toward the West Wing, thinking about what I was going to tell DeWayne and Sean. We weren’t meeting in the Oval Office; I didn’t want to break this news to them sitting behind that desk with the presidential seal mocking us. Instead, we were meeting in the president’s dining room, just off the corridor that led to the Oval Office. I would feed them their favorites, we’d bullshit, and then I’d break the news.
Sean and DeWayne arrived together, joking and smiling. My nerves got the better of me at that moment; I wondered if they would still joke and smile after I shared my news.
“Don’t you look happy and well-rested,” DeWayne said, shaking my hand firmly and offering me a friendly smile.
“No, he looks like he’s been well-fucked,” Sean added, oblivious to the crassness of his statement. “Where did you take Georgie on this top-secret rendezvous we all heard about? No one knew where you were.”
“I took her to the property I purchased in New Hampshire. I sold the Beacon Hill townhouse.”
They both seemed surprised that I would part with the townhouse in Boston. And then I upped the shock value. “It was sort of our honeymoon.”
“Seriously? Congratulations, man!” I didn’t think DeWayne would have a problem with the elopement, and I was right. He looked ecstatic as he reached out and shook my hand; then, after a moment, he enveloped me in a strong bear hug. “That’s amazing news! Avon is going to be pissed there wasn’t a wedding, but we’re both happy for you.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that,” I said just as our food arrived. Thankful for the distraction, I watched as my friends were served and began digging into their meals. Sean was unusually quiet, which troubled me.
“Sean, you haven’t said a word. Say something,” I asked gently.
“Congratulations, Mr. Pr
esident,” he spat out angrily, slamming his fork down on the table, before getting up and leaving.
That was the first time I had truly experienced Sean’s anger, and I wondered if he’d ever be able to forgive me. There were a few moments of tense silence between DeWayne and myself. He picked at the food on his plate, and I just stared at mine.
“He’ll come around,” DeWayne finally said.
“No, he won’t.”
“Just give some time, and he will.”
“I think I ruined our friendship.”
“By eloping? He shouldn’t be angry about that.”
“He should be; he has the right to be, but there’s more.” I took a sip of my water, wishing it was something so much stronger. “I’m not going to run for re-election.”
“What the fuck!” DeWayne’s outburst was expected, but on top of Sean’s sudden departure, I suddenly felt like a giant asshole.
“After everything we went through to get you elected, you’re not going to run again?” DeWayne asked incredulously.
I shook my head. “No. Look at what it’s almost cost me. Is it worth it to be the leader of the greatest nation on Earth, when the media constantly bombards Georgie? When I’ve got Russia trying to buy their way into my administration and topple it from the inside?”
“But look at all the good that you’ve done,” DeWayne reminded me. He was right. I’d accomplished so much in such a short amount of time; in part, because of my own ambition, but I sacrificed even more to make those things happen.
“And I suspect that if you run, you’ll continue my policies.”
“Fuck no, I will not run for president again. If God wanted me to be president, then I would have won the primary. If you’re done, then I’m done.” By the time he finished speaking, he sounded almost relieved.
“Then that makes my life a little easier.” DeWayne looked up at me with a confused expression on his face. “Elias is going to run as an Independent. I plan on endorsing him.”
“You are just full of surprises.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t talk with you sooner. I told Georgie that I wasn’t going to run when we were in the hospital in Finland, but she made me promise to think about it for a while.”
Capitol Promises (The Presidential Promises Duet ) Page 22
