I’d brought the coffee because I’d figured she needed it. The kiss had been a bonus. A big one.
I kissed her with all of the softness I had inside me—whatever little amount was left or had ever existed at all—giving her all the feelings that had come rushing through me the second she’d touched her mouth to my heart. Each time I saw her, she gifted me something new, some part of herself that I wanted to protect.
Each time I saw her she pulled me deeper.
I released her, grabbing the coffee off the desk and handing it back to her, my fingers linking with hers for a moment.
A smile played at her lips.
“Caffeine and kisses, huh? Is that the secret to getting through your first semester of law school finals?”
I grinned. Even rumpled and exhausted, she looked adorable. Her face was free of makeup, her hair in a messy bun, her clothes more casual than any I’d seen her wear, and she still looked stunning.
“Best method I could think of.” I gave her the rest, because I didn’t want to keep screwing with her head. She’d accused me of being afraid of going after what I wanted, and she hadn’t been wrong.
Not anymore.
The semester was almost over, and then she wouldn’t be my student anymore. Maybe I didn’t deserve her, but I couldn’t pass up a chance to have her.
“I want to see where this goes.”
Blair blinked. “Where what goes?”
“Us.”
“So getting off the fence means you want to date.”
“I want a chance with you. I wish we’d met differently, wish we could date like normal people, but obviously things are complicated. For the sake of your law school career and my job, I think we should keep things quiet for a while.”
“Okay.”
“Just until this year is over. When my teaching contract ends, us dating won’t be as big of a deal. But right now, I’m worried that it could be an issue if people find out.”
Not to mention my worries that my reputation would affect her.
“I understand.”
“And I think we should take things slowly,” I added.
She made a face. “Are you still worried you’re going to hurt me?”
I didn’t know how to explain it to her. I wanted to be good for her. Wanted to be the kind of guy who deserved to be with a girl like her. I didn’t know if I would ever get there, if I was even capable of that, but I knew I was a little bit better than I’d been the month before, and better than the month before that. All I could do was hope that time would get me where I needed to be. Or at least close enough.
I had difficulty swallowing over the lump in my throat.
“I don’t want the mistakes I’ve made to spill over onto you. I don’t want to fuck this up the way I’ve fucked up other things in my life. So yeah, I want to take things slow. You deserve a good guy. Let me try to be that guy for you. I can’t promise you that I’ll ever be the guy who deserves you, but I can promise that I’ll try. And that I’d sooner cut off my arm than hurt you.”
Blair
I didn’t know how to make him understand that I didn’t necessarily want him to be a good guy or even a better guy. I wanted him to be himself. So far the version he’d given me, despite the way he spun it, was pretty fucking great.
I leaned up on my toes, putting my mouth to his again, the taste of coffee and Gray filling me. He leaned in, wrapping one arm around my waist, holding me to his body like I belonged there.
I almost blurted out how I felt about him, almost gave him the words, but if I’d learned anything, it was that you couldn’t force Graydon Canter’s hand. He wasn’t a boy; he was a man, stubborn as hell and more than a little set in his ways. Luckily for me, I knew a thing about stubborn, and if I had to wait him out, I’d do it.
He was worth the wait.
We broke apart again and he sat down in the chair across from mine, motioning for me to sit in his lap. A spark of heat flickered through the exhaustion, but then he tugged on my hand and enfolded me on his lap, wrapping his arms around me, my back cuddled against his front. I’d had sexy with him and it was freaking amazing, but sweet was something else entirely. Sweet was a slow burn that reduced my resolve to ash.
Maybe it was because everything about him screamed sex, but the sweet was like a hidden surprise. You had to dig for it, but once you got it . . .
I doubted he did sweet with many people; given the way he’d described his life, it sounded like there hadn’t been much room for softness. I loved that he gave it to me.
“How’s studying going?” he murmured, his lips tickling my ear.
I shivered. “I want to stab myself in the eye with my highlighter, but otherwise fine.”
“Which class?”
“Con law.”
Fucking Commerce Clause.
“How long is it?”
I didn’t even have to ask what “it” was. That was the standard law school outline question.
“Seventy pages single-spaced, heading toward one hundred.”
That was one semester of con law synthesized.
“Did he tell you anything about the exam?”
“Three fact patterns. Three hours. No idea what he’s going to focus on.”
“Did he give you guys a review session?”
“Yeah. I went, and it was okay. He didn’t take any questions, but he hit the high points. I think I’m just nervous since this is my first exam.”
“Have you done a practice exam?”
I had. The only thing worse than taking a three-hour final was taking a three-hour practice exam and then taking a three-hour final.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“I didn’t fail miserably, but it wasn’t great.”
“You’ll be fine.”
My brow furrowed. “What if I’m not?”
I couldn’t keep the doubt out of my voice, not with him.
“What are you afraid of?”
“Failing at this, too.”
He shifted me on his lap so that our gazes locked. “What else do you think you failed at?” he asked, his voice soft.
I shook my head, knowing how crazy I sounded. “It’s stupid. I know it wasn’t my fault that things didn’t work out with Thom. I know it, and I still can’t help feeling like there was something wrong with me. Being an asset to my father’s campaign was my job. And I sort of screwed it up.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“You try having your romantic failings put on display for the world to see. My world, at least. It’s humiliating.”
“Of course, it is. You can’t hold on to it, though. At some point you have to learn to let go. You can’t keep beating yourself up. And if law school isn’t what you want, either, then that’s okay, too. You don’t need to find all of the answers at twenty-three.”
Silence filled the air between us as his words settled in.
I shot him a meaningful look. “Do you ever think about taking your own advice?”
A smile tugged at his beautiful mouth. “I’m working on it.”
“Do you think that’s why we work so well together? Because we’re both figuring ourselves out?”
He was quiet again. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just know I feel better when I’m with you.”
As far as compliments went, it wasn’t the most lavish, or the most romantic, yet it curled around my heart, filling me with warmth.
“Are you sure you’re up to going to the Thanksgiving celebration tonight?” he asked. “We have enough volunteers that we can probably handle it without you.”
“I’m definitely not missing out. I can come back and study after.”
His lips brushed against my hair. “Are you sleeping at all?”
“I only need a few hours. I’ll be okay. I have big plans to sleep for a week when finals are over.”
“We should go to dinner when you’re done with exams. Celebrate.”
That sounded amazing. Maybe we could swin
g it if we went somewhere out of the way, somewhere where we weren’t likely to run into anyone we knew.
“It’s a date.”
“I can’t wait for the semester to be over,” he mumbled, his lips grazing my lobe.
I bit back a moan. “Me either.”
We stayed like that for a while longer and then he shifted me in his lap and held his hand out. “Ready to head over to the school?”
I gave him my hand and we headed out to celebrate Thanksgiving.
Gray
We entered the gym, and once again, Blair’s handiwork came to life. The space was transformed with large folding tables adorned with linens and place settings. Pumpkins decorated the tables. Buffet stations were set up around the gym’s perimeter, filled with food that restaurants donated.
I’d come up with the idea to organize a pre-Thanksgiving dinner for the eighth grade group we mentored. There were only sixty kids that the school had recommended for the after-school program, but with law school finals the week after Thanksgiving, we’d struggled to get volunteers. Blair was in charge of the whole thing, and in typical fashion, was determined to give these kids the best holiday of their lives. We’d started talking about it a few weeks ago, and she’d lost me at making turkeys out of pinecones or something like that.
My chest got tight as I stared down into her eyes. “Nicely done.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“You have a talent for this.”
“What? Strong-arming restaurants into cooking for me?” she teased.
I shook my head. “Don’t minimize this. What you did here is huge. You clearly have a knack for organizing events. Managing projects. You’re like a little pearl-clad general.”
She gave me a wry smile. “I’m not sure those are the most useful skills for me to have.”
I didn’t understand why she always did that; why she acted like her accomplishments were nothing more than her doing what was expected rather than an achievement to be celebrated. She didn’t give herself nearly enough credit.
“You should look into the nonprofit management idea. Seriously. With your volunteer experience and a law degree, there’s a lot you could do. Not to mention, if you stay in D.C., there’s no shortage of organizations you could work for.”
She gave a little half-shrug. “I’ll think about it.” She gestured toward a group of volunteers standing off to the side. “I should check in. See how things are going with the setup. See you later?”
I nodded.
I watched her walk away, unable to keep my gaze off of her. There was something about Blair that filled me with awe and made me want to be better. It was complicated before when it had just been about sex. But now, now that I knew her, liked her, admired her, it was so much more.
I was falling in love with her.
Jason sauntered over, his smile knowing. “You locked it down.”
I fought off the grin.
Yeah, I fucking had.
Chapter Eighteen
Tonight is the Reynolds family’s infamous Christmas party. Deals will be made, scandals caused, and the corruption will flow as freely as the champagne. We’ll be on hand to share all of the juicy tidbits with you . . .
—Capital Confessions blog
Blair
My hand cramped as I typed the final sentence, my gaze darting to the time on my laptop. My pulse raced, my palms sweating, panic clawing at my throat. I hit the period key when all of a sudden—
“Time’s up. Shut down your exam software and make sure you receive a message saying that your test has uploaded. If you have any problems, one of the proctors can assist you.”
The urge to vomit hit me, a tremor sliding through my body. For better or worse, I was done. I submitted my test through the special exam software we were all required to use for our finals, the adrenaline crash hitting me, leaving exhaustion in its wake.
Three hours. Three hours of nearly nonstop typing. Four finals, for a total of twelve hours of exams. My first semester of law school now officially over.
I wanted to sleep for a year. I wanted to get trashed, wanted to cry, wanted to cheer.
I listened while the woman at the front of the room gave us the rest of the exam instructions, and then we were released, seventy-five students spilling out into the hallway in a mass exodus tinged with excitement and despair, depending on how people thought they’d done.
Torts had been our final exam. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Probably the same way I’d felt about all my exams. Despite my hours and hours studying, and the fact that I looked like I’d just been to hell and back, twice, without a shower, it could go either way. Our exams were graded on a curve, so to some degree, my performance also largely depended on how I did relative to my classmates.
Caitlin called out my name and I waited for her to catch up with me.
“We have to go celebrate.”
I groaned. “I need to sleep. I only slept like four hours last night because I was up late cramming. And I have this stupid holiday party my parents are hosting tonight.”
I’d finally just given in to my mother’s calls and pleading. Some of my friends would be at the party, so at least it wouldn’t be totally horrible. And she’d promised that the Wyatts wouldn’t be there.
“Do you have to go the whole time?”
“Maybe not.” They’d be pissed, but honestly, I needed to let loose a bit. And my parents’ Christmas party was definitely not the place to let loose. “I’ll come. I can probably get away with showing up for an hour or two, and then I’ll meet up with you guys. I’ll text you when I’m out.”
She grinned. “Awesome. See you tonight.”
I walked through the lobby, heading toward the parking lot, feeling like I tasted freedom for the first time in forever. We only had a month off for winter break, but right now I needed the reprieve. Badly.
When I hit the double doors to exit the building, I spotted Gray standing at the entrance, talking to another one of the professors. He had an end-of-semester faculty party he had to attend tonight, but we’d made plans to go to dinner tomorrow.
His gaze met mine and he flashed me a quick smile. I ducked my chin to hide my reaction, unable to keep my lips from grinning.
A few minutes later, when I reached my car, my phone went off. I pulled it out of my purse and stared at the text, a smile spreading all over my face.
Congrats xxx.
* * *
I showed up at my parents’ half an hour after the party started. I only planned on staying an hour or so, and then I’d head out to meet up with Caitlin and some other people from our section.
I was feeling marginally more human after taking a five-hour nap and shower. I’d decided on a black cocktail dress that was probably a little casual for my parents, but wouldn’t look bizarre at a bar. I was stretching black-tie a bit, but whatever.
I spotted my father first, surrounded by his inner circle, a broad smile on his face and a glass of champagne in hand. He was in his element, holding court now that his seat was safe once more. However stressed my mother might be about the Capital Confessions mentions, he seemed completely unfazed.
“Blair.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and a charming smile.
Between the two of them, my father was the easier one for me to handle. He was definitely a dick, but for the most part he didn’t care what I did. Big-picture stuff was important to him—who I married, where I went to school—but he wasn’t going to give me a hard time about my outfit or how much I’d had to drink, or whether my haircut made my face look round. My mother gave me a hard time about everything.
I smiled at his friends, some of the highest-ranking members of the Senate, men I’d known practically my whole life. I fielded questions about law school for a few minutes, wincing at my father’s suggestion that perhaps I’d transfer schools my second year. The way things were going, I highly doubted that was going to be an option, but I kept my mouth shut.
Finally, someone more impo
rtant than me walked by, and my father left me for some glad-handing with a potential donor. One campaign down and he was already focused on the next. As much as I knew he was an asshole, it wasn’t lost on me that my father was really good at what he did. Serving people, not so much. But politicking? He had that down to an art and D.C. was his playground.
I didn’t know how Kate and I had ended up the way we did. When we were younger, my mother had definitely spent more time with me. Kate had been too much of a tomboy, had had little patience for debutante balls, etiquette classes, and ballet. She’d been the one my father had connected with the most, and as much as she’d hate to admit it, there was something similar about them.
They each had their own brand of ruthlessness.
I did a sweep of the room, spotting my mother chatting with some of her friends, diamonds sparkling, clearly in her element. I didn’t know if my parents loved each other, if they’d ever loved each other, but they had definitely found a way to make their marriage suit their individual needs. My mother had the money and position she craved; my father had the glossy photo op that helped keep him in power.
Even as I didn’t understand it, I recognized that it worked for them.
And then I saw him, and all thoughts of my parents fled.
My mother had told me the Wyatts couldn’t come to the party, that they were vacationing in St. Barts. That hadn’t been as good as them not being invited entirely, but I’d figured it was enough to avoid an awkward run-in between us.
Apparently, I’d been mistaken.
Thom stood in front of me, wearing a tuxedo like he’d been born to it. Hell, considering the similarities between our upbringings, he basically had. Something about the sight of him took me back—to my coming out ball, prom, the morning of our wedding.
He looked good. He’d always been handsome—tall, tanned, blond hair. He was All-American perfection—smart, funny, kind. It was difficult to reconcile the Thom I’d known growing up with someone who’d cheated on me.
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