by Joya Ryan
“I treat you well,” he said in a low, deadly tone, clearly not liking where I was going with this.
He made the rules. No talking about the arrangement. Fine. Then I’d appeal to him as his significant other.
“Sometimes,” I nodded. “But sometimes you don’t.” I shrugged a little and dropped my voice a single octave. “Other times you treat me very well.” I looked up from beneath my lashes, trying that flirty eye thing I’d seen Hazel use on a man at a bar once. “I like that Roman.” Step. “The one who is kind, makes me laugh, makes me…”
“Makes you run away,” he cut in, obviously more upset about the other night than I had realized.
“I didn’t know how to handle the other night,” I admitted. “I just needed some space to regroup. But I don’t regret being with you.”
His eyes darkened, the nearby fire lighting them up like the eyes of some wicked, sexy demon from the underworld. “Did I scare you?”
I shook my head. “The only thing that scares me is how you make me feel.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Jean said, walking through the door. “I have most of the travel arrangements amended to accommodate Miss Underwood, but I wanted to know if you had solidified your arrangements for staying at your parents’ estate next month when you travel upstate.”
“No.” His tone made the woman jump a bit. “We will not be staying there.”
“Okay. And what sample size from the wardrobe should I have the assistant bring up for Miss Underwood?” Jean asked, as if I weren’t standing right beside her.
Roman fired off my size, almost down to exact measurements, and I stared, astounded. The woman scribbled something down again, then hurried out, obviously picking up on Roman’s mood and shutting the door behind her.
“You have a wardrobe standing by?”
“Yes, it was put together over the weekend. Various items.” He lifted his shoulders slightly, like this was totally normal.
“How do you know what size I am?”
“I wasn’t sure until I saw the tag on your skirt the other night.” The rough edge of his voice made shivers slice down my spine. “And I still have your panties.”
My mind slowed in shock.
“Now, you were telling me how I make you feel?” he said.
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. No matter how hard I tried, he always seemed to be one step ahead, and nothing, nothing, seemed to unnerve him. Meanwhile he had my panties, God knows where, and was discussing me like some farm animal, dressing me and putting me on show. And all while making my body smolder like I was having withdrawals from his touch. I wanted to scream at him. Shake him. Devour him. My mind and body were on the brink of operating on pure instinct.
“Not getting shy on me now, are you, Amy?”
“I thought that was a quality you liked in me.”
“No. I said I liked your innocence.”
“That doesn’t really apply anymore, does it?”
He frowned. “I disagree. I’m more convinced than ever.”
“But, Friday night…” I shook my head, having no idea where I was going with this.
It had been so raw. So wild and rash. There had been nothing slow, sweet, or pure about it. And when the moment had gone, I’d felt like we were back to business. A no-connection, emotion-free kind of business. Hazel once told me that sometimes, sex had nothing to do with feelings. Roman was obviously better at separating his. The question was, could I? All Friday night did was leave me wanting more while feeling vulnerable.
That word stuck in my head. It was the same feeling I’d had when I’d found out that Warren had used me. I felt like I had shown a private side of myself and now, in the light of day, it was being held against me.
“The other night was unexpected,” Roman said. “You gave me a lot to think about.”
“I gave you a lot to think about?”
“Yes. You left.” He pushed his hip off the desk and stood up straight.
“What was I supposed to do?”
“Stay.”
Uncertainty blistered until it felt like boils on my skin. I wasn’t prepared for the sudden rush of adrenaline that spiraled through me. Adrenaline that left me feeling not innocent at all, but scandalous.
There were two raps on the door before it opened. A tall man with a receding hairline, and what looked to be a permanent frown on his face, walked in, swiping his fingers over his smartphone.
“We need to go over the major donors coming to the fundraiser Saturday, and what the hell is this rumor that you have a girlfriend?”
“Bill,” Roman said, and the man looked up, catching my eye before looking at Roman. “This is Amy Underwood. My girlfriend.”
Bill pursed his lips. Between the name and the fact that he obviously handled communications, I figured this must be Paige’s boss. There was something kind of off-putting about him. His dim hazel eyes roamed over me, producing a very different shiver than when Roman did it. He was analyzing everything about me in a single look, and I didn’t particularly care for the way his gaze paused on my breasts and hips.
“Can we have a word in private?” Bill said.
Roman casually adjusted his shoulders. “Just say what you need to say, Bill.”
Bill glanced at me again. “I don’t think that taking another person on your campaign tour is a good idea.”
“It will be fine. I’ve done the preliminary background check and Amy, if anything, is an asset.”
An asset? Again, it was like I wasn’t there. And was this how Roman had talked about his past girlfriends? As assets?
“We can go over this more tomorrow,” Roman continued. “Right now, I need to get Amy prepped for Saturday.”
Bill obviously wasn’t happy with that answer, and frankly, neither was I. Knowing Roman was going to discuss my worth with this guy, who obviously wasn’t convinced I was a good thing, made me feel like I had just been fished out of the bargain bin.
“There are pictures floating around social media sites of you kissing someone, I assume her.” Again Bill glared at me. “In a bar in Arbor Hill last Thursday.”
“Yes.”
“It doesn’t look—”
“It looks like I was at a sports bar, not drinking, enjoying an evening in Arbor Hill—where low-income constituents hang out—like a normal human being with my girlfriend, who works for an anti-drug nonprofit. It looks like I was enjoying the state I love while interacting with the people of that state.” Roman took a step toward Bill. “If that is not how it looks, then you have some spinning to do. However, I think the majority has seen this incident in a positive light, based on the research and report I received from your assistant this morning.”
Bill grumbled something. I stared, wide-eyed, and Roman looked cool as ever. Was that what Paige had been doing the night I came home from Roman’s? She’d said she was working this past weekend. Was that what she meant? Going over media for hours and “spinning” my relationship with the governor?
I never meant to affect your job…I know, but you will…
Those words made my stomach instantly clench. And yet, she’d still listened, still supported me, even though I was creating stress in her life.
“We’ll talk about the rest tomorrow, Bill,” Roman said with finality in his voice.
Bill nodded and left the room, not bothering to shut the door. I heard a sharp thump right outside the office, like something had been rammed into the wall, followed by Bill’s annoyed curse.
“Roman, I can’t—” I was about to tell him that involving Paige wasn’t okay with me when another person walked in, pushing a wheeled rack of clothes.
“Here are all the samples…” Paige’s words died when she saw me, and I about choked on air. She stood up straight and ran her palms down her pencil skirt, cleared her throat, and looked at Roman. “Anything else, sir?”
“Yes. We’ll need shoes.”
“No!” Both of them looked at me, but I didn’t care that I had just
yelled. “No, I can get my own shoes.”
I didn’t know exactly what I was supposed to be getting dressed for—maybe every event on Roman’s calendar. All I knew was that Paige, who worked twelve-hour days and then some, didn’t need hours of searching the Web for pictures and posts about Roman and me, and acquiring outfits for me. No, she was not going to be a gopher for these people, or for me.
“It’s fine,” she mumbled to me. “It’s part of my job.”
“No,” I said again.
“Is there an issue here?” Roman asked, looking between the two of us.
“No, sir,” Paige said, at the same time I said, “Yes.”
“Will you excuse us, Miss Levine?” he said to Paige, but kept his eyes on me.
Paige left the room, shutting the door behind her, but not before I’d seen the look in her eyes. I couldn’t tell if she was angry, embarrassed, or both, but she was right. I was affecting her job. And watching her bring a rack of clothes in when I knew she’d spent all week proofreading budget adjustments and documents was too much take. Whatever rubber band had been holding me together snapped.
“We need to talk,” I said to Roman with all the guilt I felt. “About everything.”
He lifted his chin. “You know the rules.”
“Yes, I do. So name your place, Governor.”
His nostrils flared and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “My house. Tonight.”
“Fine.”
Chapter Eight
I managed not to stomp through Roman’s house on the way to his bedroom, but once he’d shut the door, I couldn’t help it. Emotions had been bubbling since this morning, and I couldn’t take it anymore.
“You can’t just barge into people’s lives and order them around whenever you feel like it,” I said, pacing—not stomping—in front of the hearth. “When I signed up for this—”
“Ah-ah,” Roman interrupted, motioning in my direction. “No chatting about that until you’re undressed.”
The gleam in his eyes and the smirk on his face made me hot. And he knew it. But in that moment, I didn’t know if I was more on fire from anger, or the fact that this overbearing, domineering, incredibly sexy man was burning holes right through my skin and igniting something dark and needy in my core.
He sat down in the chair I had occupied last time I was here—the chair he’d bent me over—and casually leaned back.
“Proceed, Miss Underwood.”
I froze. It was an odd reaction, considering the fire currently warming my shoulders. Looking at Roman and trying to keep my wits was difficult, because the man looked like he owned the world and everything in it. Including me. He sat back, comfortable and calm, resting his chin between his thumb and first finger, gazing at me as if awaiting a show. Those hot eyes daring me.
I lifted my chin and mustered every ounce of courage I had.
Dare accepted.
Gritting my teeth, I pulled at my shirt, untucking it from my skirt and yanking it over my head. The collar caught on the tight bun of my hair, so I reached up, undid the stupid thing, and let my hair fall.
Roman sat forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his knees, and watched. Perfectly still, yet completely engaged.
Something odd and new came over me. Control. Power. The governor was entranced by me for once. The feeling made me a little giddy. What had started out as anger, then rage, now felt a little edgy and hot…very hot.
Power respects power, I mentally repeated.
Gripping the small zipper on the side of my skirt, I slowly slid it down.
“I don’t like Paige being involved,” I said slowly.
With a little shimmy, my skirt fell to the floor, and I stepped out of it. Roman inhaled so roughly I heard it from where I was, five feet in front of him.
I should have been nervous, but there was something about the way he was looking at me. As though he was really seeing me, and liked what he saw. I placed a hand against the stone hearth and went to take off my heels.
“No,” he bit out. “Those can stay on.”
I stood up straight and looked at him. “I’m not wired.”
His dark gaze slid over my body, and I felt it so acutely that it could have been his hands. “I’m still not convinced.”
Taking a deep breath, which he really seemed to enjoy watching, I reached behind me for the clasp of my bra. I snapped it open and slowly let the straps slide down my arms, keeping the lacy cups in place with my hands until the very last moment.
“You can’t come into my work and drag me out,” I said softly, letting the material fall and land on the floor next to my skirt and shirt.
A full-fledged growl came from Roman, whose face was hard as he stared at my body. Every square inch all at once. I had no idea how he did it, but nothing went unnoticed. From my face to my lips to my breasts, he drank me in with a single look.
I ran my thumbs along the waistline of my panties. The action snatched his full attention.
“You can’t expect me to come running every time you call,” I whispered. “I know I’m not really your girlfriend.” I pushed the flimsy material down to my thighs and let it fall from there. “But I’m not your slave either.”
A tic worked in his jaw as he looked me up and down, pausing between my legs long enough to make me squirm.
“You are mistaken about several things,” he rasped, and pushed to his feet. “First, Paige is good at her job. You interfering the way you did today only creates awkwardness for both of you.”
I opened my mouth to retaliate, but he spoke again before I could.
“What we’re doing will continue, and my team, which includes Paige, will deal with that. Second…”
He took a step toward me and I stifled the urge to cover myself, my confidence hanging by a thread. The fire at my back was hot, but nothing like the man with blazing black eyes coming toward me.
“I didn’t drag you anywhere. I merely adjusted the situation to better fit my needs. And my needs included you.” Another step. “Finally, you are my girlfriend. And I do expect you to come.” His mouth quirked up at the side in a devilish expression. “Often.”
I couldn’t breathe. The faint essence of burning wood and Roman’s masculine scent were too much. The closer he got, the further my thoughts strayed. I couldn’t keep my mind on the issues. Couldn’t think clearly enough to argue. A few syllables of his gravelly voice drained all the fight right out of my pores.
“I’m naked,” I whispered, and glanced down at my body. I had been beaten. He’d won this match, and I couldn’t maintain my false idea of power. I crossed my arms over my breasts.
Roman grazed his fingers along my forearm. “Yes, you are.”
“Every time I get near you, alone with you, I…”
“Lose judgment.”
I looked up at him, and he gently pulled my arm free, exposing me to his view.
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“Because I struggle with the same thing.” There was a softness in his voice I was coming to recognize. Honesty. I wasn’t going anywhere, not even if I wanted to, which I didn’t.
“I have yet to see you lose anything, Governor.”
He lifted my chin with the crook of his finger. “You’re witnessing it right now.”
The idea that maybe he felt a fraction of what I did made him seem more…human. More like the man I’d met at the gala, who’d led me barefoot to the ledge of a giant city and made me feel worthwhile for the first time in a long time.
My hands touched his chest softly. He was so hard and strong. So approachable, yet untouchable. A total and utter conundrum I couldn’t figure out. And my body was in worse shape than my mind, because everything in me was screaming for more.
Of him.
Pining for a single touch, a single ounce of attention. A stronger woman would have admitted to that kind of weakness. Not me. Not at that moment. I was too busy being consumed by the addiction.
Addiction to him.
; “You’re free to go anytime, Amy. But never again with that look on your face.” His fingers trailed from my chin to my jaw and down my neck.
“What look?”
“Fear,” he growled.
I swallowed hard. I had no idea what expression he’d seen on my face the night we were together, but I could assume it hadn’t been pretty.
“Are you putting regulations on my feelings again?”
“That depends.” His thumb brushed the column of my throat. “Are you afraid of me?”
I swallowed and felt my throat bob against his gentle caress.
“Yes,” I whispered. “But not in the way you think.”
He frowned. “Explain.”
I focused on his chest, the small buttons of his shirt. Before I lost my nerve, I started unfastening them.
“I’m afraid of the way you make me feel sometimes.”
One button undone. I moved down to the next one, getting little peeks of that mocha skin and strong stomach. I had to lick my lips to keep from drooling.
“Sometimes?”
I nodded. What I felt was not a simple fear, but a confusing terror that this man had some kind of hold on me. The kind that made me forget logic, forget what I was doing here and how this whole thing had started. Forget how badly someone could hurt you.
Getting caught up was stupid. Too bad I couldn’t get the better part of my brain to understand that right now. The only thing I could do was try to explain it.
“Being with you—” I started.
“The other night.” It wasn’t a question. He wanted me to say it. Acknowledge what had happened between us. All of it.
“Yes.” I said. “It was like a haze. When it cleared, I didn’t know how to act…what to do.”
“What have you normally done in the past?”
I shrugged, unable to look him in the eye. He didn’t need to know the details of my past relationships—or rather, relationship—but there was no reason to hide the basics.
“I haven’t had a lot of experience dealing with things like this.”
“You mean sex?”
I nodded. My face instantly heated, and I felt just a hint of anxiety. He spoke so bluntly sometimes. Untucking his shirt, I freed the final button.
