by Joya Ryan
“Andrew,” he called as soon as we hit the hallway. Andrew appeared as if from thin air.
“Yes, sir.”
“Bring the car around back. We’re taking Miss Underwood home.”
“Yes, sir.” Andrew disappeared down a hallway while Roman led me to a different part of the house I hadn’t seen before. Private and quiet, you’d never know a full-blown gala was happening in the same building on the bottom floor.
We passed a set of closed metal doors. “I didn’t know you had an elevator. Do you ever use it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
We came to a small stairwell at the back of the house, descended, and went to the back door.
“Because I don’t like them,” he said plainly.
When the crisp night air hit my face, I took a deep breath. The familiar black town car I had gotten used to was already running at the curb.
“You don’t need to come with me,” I said. “You have guests and—”
“I want to make sure you get home safely.”
He opened the car door for me. I felt bad that he was leaving his party because of me. Some of his reasons probably had to do with the other night. He seemed legitimately worried about me, an idea that made my heart do weird flips, but I wasn’t interested in chasing that feeling if it meant being an imposition on Roman.
“It’s not something you need to witness. I’m not going to tuck and roll out of a moving vehicle. I’ll be fine.”
“I want to ensure that,” he said, the look on his face daring me to challenge him further.
I swallowed hard and got in. He came around the other side to join me. The privacy glass was up. The leather seat was cool against my thighs as we made the short trek from Albany to Arbor Hill.
My whole body buzzed with tension. It had been another stressful day of crazy emotions and adrenaline, and I was coming down so hard I could barely keep my footing. It was enough to drive a girl insane.
“Still feeling anxious?” he asked, glancing at my slightly twitching knee.
“Yes. But not because of earlier.”
“Then why?”
I waited until his eyes landed, and stayed, on my face. For a moment I simply watched him, wondering if I could extract anything from of his expression. Read him somehow and know what to do, what to say. There was a sophisticated way to play this game, I was sure of it. The problem was, I was neither sophisticated nor interested in games. I wanted the real Roman. Not the politician, the man.
“I want you,” I said honestly, voicing my inner thoughts. “All the time. Even when I’m angry at you. Even right now.”
Each word came out softer than the last, until I almost looked away in mortification. But it was the truth. Perhaps I’d been blunt, but whatever hold Roman had over me wasn’t lessening, or even becoming more understandable.
“I feel like I’m in a constant battle with myself, and I never know what you’re thinking or what to do. It’s…” I let out a loud breath, “confusing.”
His jaw shifted enough to show that he’d clenched his teeth, once again refraining from saying something.
“Can you just speak? Say whatever it is going through your mind right now?”
“No,” he said.
“You’re always thinking through your words. I can tell. I can see it on your face. Can’t you just say what you want? No one is listening but me.”
“It’s wise to think before speaking.”
“Even if it’s the truth?” I said.
“Especially if it’s the truth.”
My heart sank a little. “Why?”
His throat bobbed, as if he were swallowing a bit of resolve. “Because the truth is a dangerous thing to admit.”
“Yet you’ve given me some.”
He nodded. “And so have you.”
The mutual acknowledgment somehow made me feel a little better. Like we were on some kind of track in the right direction. While Roman kept many things to himself, he did offer up some details, share some thoughts with me. Yes, I wanted to know him better, wanted him to let me in, but it had to start somewhere. A simple foundation from which we could build.
“I want you,” I whispered again. Whatever he’d allow, that was what I wanted. A starting point. “Please, say something to that.”
“‘Want’ doesn’t describe it, sweetheart.”
The edge in his voice cut through all my pent up emotions from the last four days. My skin zinged to life. My fingertips ached to touch him, and my mouth watered for a single taste of his skin.
Without further thought, I gave into instinct.
Quickly, I crawled across the backseat and hiked my dress up so that I could straddle Roman’s lap.
“Amy…” Again, his voice held both warning and dare.
I chose to only hear the dare.
Winding my fingers in his hair, I gripped him hard and pressed my lips against his. All the heat and angst poured out, and I couldn’t stop. I was calling his bluff on emotion-free sex. At the moment, he didn’t seem to have his feelings in check, and neither did I. When I bit his bottom lip, he growled and gripped my ass.
“I warned you,” he said against my mouth before plunging his tongue inside.
I moaned and returned his attentions. Dueling and tasting each other like our lives depended on it. With a firm grip, he ground me against him. His thick erection pressed against me, making me groan again. He felt so good. So strong and safe.
Holding on to his shoulders, I twisted my hips and rocked against him, harder, faster. Even with our clothing between us, the pressure of him against me sent shivers of pleasure along every inch of my skin.
“Shit, Amy.” His fingers dug into the backs of my thighs. He was close, I could feel it. Because I was right there with him. It didn’t take much—all our pent up need was on the brink of bursting.
I rolled my hips again and swallowed his growling response with an even deeper kiss.
He not only wanted me, he cared about me. I was sure about that because, try though he had to convince me otherwise last night, this wasn’t just physical for him. It couldn’t be. He could have let me walk home the other night, but he came after me. He could have let me get swept up in a panic attack, but he brought me back from the abyss.
Maybe I was grasping at straws—or maybe I was right. Maybe Roman didn’t separate sex from feelings as well as either of us had thought. Whatever he was attempting to accomplish by keeping a distance between us wasn’t working. When we were together, there was a connection.
I wanted to feel that connection again and apparently, so did Roman, because he wasn’t pushing me away, he was pulling me closer.
“Take me,” I begged, reaching between us to unfasten his pants.
“You sure you’re ready?” he said, kissing my neck while his fingers disappeared beneath my dress to toy with my panties, pushing them aside.
“Yes, I’m very ready.”
He retrieved a condom from his inside jacket pocket and lifted his hips enough so that I could tug his pants down and free his hard cock. With my dress falling around us, I couldn’t see it, but I felt it brushing against my inner thighs.
He rolled the latex on. I was already arching into him, seeking him. With one hand on my hip, he gripped himself with the other. My panties still pushed aside, I rose enough to take the head of his cock into my depths, then slowly sank down.
“Fuck,” he rasped. When sheathed to the hilt, he began moving me.
I kissed him, pausing only to whisper his name.
He moved me faster. Harder. In and out several times, only to slam me down while pumping his hips up, forcing his entire length as deep as possible.
Holding on to the back of his neck, I threw my head back. He sucked and bit along the column of my throat. Hot and savage, he worked my body closer to the edge only he could bring me to.
“Come, Amy,” he said against my collarbone. “Come for me.”
We moved back and forth, up
and down, until I was helpless against his demand.
With a strangled gasp, my body pricked as if wasps had been unleashed beneath my skin. The intensity of my orgasm was shocking. I held on to Roman tighter as he thrust hard, his body quaking from his own release.
I kissed the top of his head, his temple, his ear. Loving how he felt, enveloping me even as I melted into him. We had each other. This was the moment I’d been craving. The reason I knew this was more. We were more. What had just happened had held more emotion than the last seven years of my life put together.
The car came to a stop, but I didn’t move off of him. “Roman.” I kissed him softly on the lips and whispered. “Come inside with me.”
He instantly stilled, and as though my skin had turned to dry ice beneath his fingers, he yanked them away.
I pulled back enough to see his eyes smoldering with a very different kind of intensity than they’d held a few moments ago. His eyes remained on mine, but he didn’t say a word. Perhaps this was one of those moments when the truth was so dangerous, he had to think before speaking.
“Look,” I ran my palms down his chest, “I know I have some issues, but there’s something here, something more than…” I wanted to say “the arrangement,” but couldn’t.
I wanted to escape the cloud that had been hanging over us since Monday night, when he’d explained that for us, sex and feelings weren’t to be intertwined.
“I can’t go inside with you, Amy.”
I smoothed my hands through his hair, hoping he’d return some affection. He didn’t, and the reality of the situation hit me. He couldn’t come in because there were loose ends to tie up, like his fundraiser back at the mansion.
“I know you have to go back to your place first. But come back later. After everyone leaves.”
The heat between us was cooling quicker than it had crept up.
“That’s not a good idea.”
I was about to ask why when a soft yellow glow caught my attention. My porch light was on.
“Paige is still at the gala, and Hazel had plans tonight. No one is home,” I offered, thinking that was his concern.
He scooted me off of him. Feeling him leave my body was like losing the last of the warmth he’d offered. I felt instantly empty. He didn’t look at me as he grabbed his pocket square, took care of the condom, and refastened his pants.
I didn’t even have time to ask what the problem was before he opened his door and got out.
My door opened soon after, and Roman was waiting to help me out. Andrew, also standing outside the car, handed Roman my purse, which I’d completely forgotten about. Their every move was fluid, like the passing of a baton, reminding me of the practiced actions I’d seen the first night I’d met Roman. He was indicating the night, and his time with me, was over.
Shards of ice spearing my ribs would have been more comfortable than my feelings then. When I had agreed to this arrangement, everything had, in theory, sounded fairly simple. In practice, it had the potential to shatter me. Still, I needed to hear him admit to certain things. Explain his reasons out loud.
“Why won’t you come in?” I asked. It wasn’t until Andrew got back in the car that he spoke.
“It’s just not a good idea,” he said and gave me my purse.
“Not a good idea,” I shot back. “Why?”
His eyes took on that hard, challenging look, but I wasn’t backing down. Roman Reese would answer me.
“Because it doesn’t look good.”
His statement jarred me and once again, I felt stupid for not even considering appearances. My thought process just didn’t work that way. But there it was. The truth. And he had been right, it was tough to take.
“I warned you about this, Amy. Told you where I stood on this matter.”
“About screwing me, you mean? Can you honestly stand there and tell me you feel nothing when we’re together?”
“I didn’t say that. I just think you hold a different caliber of feelings than I do.”
Wow. That really hit home. And by hit, I meant punched: a swift, straight strike to the gut. I told myself that I wanted The Real Roman. I had just seen him, felt him. Now this Roman, the one with the mask, was pulling back. Telling me I was wrong.
Maybe I was. Maybe The Real Roman was an illusion.
“I suppose you’re right,” I said, grabbing all the dignity I had before it flew away. “The governor of New York entering a small apartment in the middle of a crappy part of town—”
“I’m more concerned about leaving said apartment, and at what hour.”
If words had arms, Roman’s would have backhanded me a few times now.
“It’s not just that,” he added, a bit softer.
Oh boy, there was more! I honestly didn’t think I could handle whatever else he was going to hit me with.
“You apartment hasn’t been swept.”
Was that supposed to make me feel better? “You think there are bugs? Are you that paranoid? Who would even think to do that?”
“Someone with something to gain from certain situations or admissions.”
I frowned. “Who would stand to gain something like that?” The moment the words left my mouth, I wished I could take them back.
Roman’s stare bore down on me. A blast of fire shot through my stomach so fast, I thought I might be sick. It turned out he didn’t have to explain further. The look on his face made it quite clear.
Roman didn’t trust me.
He didn’t even let me talk about our arrangement unless under his roof and stripped bare, for goodness’ sake. He’d never spend time with me in my home, a place that hadn’t been dusted, searched, and secured.
There was nothing more to say, so I tried to give my best fake smile. Rejection hurt, and I’d had plenty tonight. Actually, I’d had plenty the last couple of weeks. Feeling like a world-class fool was becoming my signature style. I was throwing myself at a man who was obviously uninterested in sharing any real part of himself, and I was suffering all the damage.
“Have a good night,” I said, trying to sound collected, praying he wouldn’t call after me, but wishing he would.
Walking up my steps, I fished my keys out and opened the front door, never once looking back at the governor or all the baggage that came with him.
Chapter Eleven
Sunday mornings were usually my favorite. They were a chance to hang out, be mellow, and just relax. Of course, after being dropped off last night by Roman, relaxed was the furthest thing from what I was feeling.
I was the only one awake, and I didn’t want to turn on the television and disturb my sleeping roommates, so I opened Paige’s laptop and huddled on the couch. She let me borrow it whenever I liked, and today I needed simple entertainment to take my mind off the drama of my real life. Maybe some kind of sneezing panda video would cheer me up. As Paige’s computer fired up and took me to the browser she had left open, I realized that escaping drama was impossible.
“Oh. My. God.” My eyes went wide as I looked at the blog site with my picture slapped at the top of the page. The headline blared:
Governor’s Girlfriend Drunk at Fundraiser?
The only photos that were supposed to have been taken had been during the meet and greet. Not throughout the evening. I didn’t even remember seeing someone click a camera in my direction after the initial onslaught at the beginning of the night.
But there I was, holding a glass of champagne, eyes squeezed shut, with an unflattering expression on my face that made it look like I was hammered. Roman was cropped out of the photo, but I saw his hand on my hip. It had been taken when I was dizzy and on the brink of having a panic attack, right before he’d gotten me out of there.
I looked up to see Paige, with tangled hair and tired eyes, walk into the living room.
“I wasn’t drunk, Paige. I didn’t even finish a whole glass of anything last night.”
She nodded. “I know. Don’t worry, it’s being dealt with.”
&nbs
p; I scanned the blog. “Dealt with? This whole piece is speculating that I was intoxicated, and asking how I can be a good role model in my profession when I’m a lush.” I scrolled down and read a blurb. “The governor disappeared with Underwood for almost an hour, only to return to his guests without the blonde activist on his arm.” Even the tone sounded snippy.
It went on, but I couldn’t bear to read anymore. I knew the media had a part in every politician’s world. Until now, it hadn’t been overwhelming. Glancing back at the screen, I realized that whatever role the press played, I had no idea how to handle it.
“You said it just right. This is speculation. It’s what people, especially the media, do. And I promise, it’s being addressed.” Paige sat down next to me. Gently taking the laptop, she closed the screen. “Governor Reese has already authorized a statement saying that you had to leave due to illness, you were not drunk, and the photo was unflattering and unfortunate.”
I scoffed. “Isn’t that nice.”
“Would you rather he came out and said you panicked because you saw your ex-boyfriend at the fundraiser?”
I let out a long sigh. Of course Paige was up to date on what had happened, at least while I had been downstairs.
“This just feels awful,” I said.
She nodded and gave me a one-arm hug. “I know. Why don’t you leave the media to me? There’s no reason you need to see this stuff. The moment you start Googling yourself and Roman, it will turn into a black hole and affect your relationship with him. It’s just not worth it, and it will only upset you. In the end, there’s nothing you can do about it anyway.”
“I hate that idea. It’s like I’m completely powerless.”
“It’s just not worth getting upset over.” She rose and headed to the kitchen. “Why don’t I make us some coffee and we’ll try to salvage the day?
Smiling as best I could, I nodded and hugged my knees to my chest. I felt very alone and very noticed, all at the same time.
“I thought you said you were making hot chocolate with whipped cream,” I said, my eyes watering and throat burning from the generous gulp I’d just taken. And it had nothing to do with the temperature of the liquid. The rest of the weekend had been uneventful, aside from me wallowing, and Hazel had suggested greeting the new week with a sweet drink.
