by Chelle Bliss
My tension is forgotten as I smile at my sixty-something driver. He’s not even an official member of Team Preston, and he’s cheering me on anyway.
“Damn right, Roy,” I say, nodding. “We’ve got this.”
Chapter 5
“Damn it.” Carl’s seething as he stares out the window of the campaign bus. “How did we end up in the same city as Preston?”
My head jerks to the side, following his eyes to her bus that’s covered in her photo and the slogan Pure Preston. I’m trying to control my breathing and failing miserably. The very thought of seeing her again sends a thrill through me.
It’s only been four days since we shared the stage at the mini-debate, but I haven’t been able to get her out of my head. Carl replayed the video footage every night to go over what I could’ve done better and to try to decipher Reagan’s weak spots. Every goddamn night I had to stare at her beautiful face, see her long, lean legs crossing and uncrossing, and try to pay attention.
Now, she’s here—within feet of me.
“We’ll be fine, Carl. What’s the big deal?” I say and wipe my damp palms on my blue jeans.
“Your paths are never supposed to cross unless it’s planned and for something such as a debate.” Carl flips through a clipboard of paperwork, furiously turning the pages as if they are magically going to give him an answer.
I can’t drag my eyes away from the crowd gathered near the doorway of her bus. “Maybe this can be used to our advantage.” I’m lying, but I’d use any excuse to see her again.
It’s not just her beauty that has caught my attention, but her attitude. Reagan Preston is not a pushover. She also doesn’t like to be told she’s using her father’s name to get into office, even if there’s a hint of truth to it.
“Hank, pull around to the other side of the building,” Carl tells the bus driver. I want to argue with him because it’ll block my view of Reagan, but I keep quiet.
Carl grips the railing near the doorway, waiting to pounce as soon as we stop. “Wait here while I figure this out.”
“Yes, sir.” I salute him before he can get off the bus.
His face pinches. “You should be more serious, Jude.”
I lose the smile and give him a glare. “Completely serious.” Movement in the distance catches my eye. “You better hurry. I see Reagan’s camp coming this way.”
He’s grumbling something about having someone’s head on a platter as he steps off the bus. I kneel on the cushion, trying to get a better view and hoping to catch a glimpse of Reagan.
“Come on,” I whisper and grip the back of the seat cushion between my fingers with my nose almost touching the glass.
Dude—get your shit together.
When did a woman have me behaving like a horny teenager?
Pathetic.
I start to sit back down, deciding I’m not going to be that guy, when I see her. My heart literally leaps into my throat.
I’m in so much fucking trouble.
I know it now like I knew it four days ago when I first laid eyes on her. Her dark hair is cascading down her shoulders, covering her breasts and sweeping across her body as she walks. She’s walking with her campaign manager, Lexi, and hasn’t seen me yet. Slowly, I back away from the window before she catches a glimpse of me staring at her.
Carl’s walking toward them, and his hands are flailing about. When I see Reagan’s body jerk backward, I head for the door.
Before I’m ten feet from them, I say, “Ladies, do we have an issue?” I’m staring at Reagan, and she’s glaring back.
“There’s not an issue,” she snaps and crosses her arms, pushing her breasts up.
My eyes are instantly drawn to their fullness. “You looked like you needed help.”
She pushes her tits higher. “Maybe if you were looking at something other than my breasts.”
I can’t stop the smile creeping across my face. I’ve been caught, but I don’t even care. “You looked like you needed something before you pushed your breasts practically out of your shirt.” My gaze travels slowly up her neck, and finally, we lock eyes.
“You’re a pig,” she mutters under her breath, but she does nothing to cover her chest.
Lexi coughs and breaks our moment. “We’ll be out of here in the morning. You’re not scheduled for your rally until then, but we’re spending the night in Fairbury too. Will this be an issue?”
My eyes are still locked on Reagan, and hers are staring at my forearms. It’s as if I can see her eyes moving, tracing every line in my tattoo.
“As long as we’re at different hotels,” Carl interjects.
“There’s only one in town, and the next hotel isn’t for a hundred miles.”
Carl grunts his unhappiness. “How is this even possible?”
“Carl.” I place my hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine. We’re all adults. We can share a hotel without killing each other.”
He rubs his forehead. “We can bunk on the bus.”
My head jerks back because I think I must’ve heard him wrong. “Did you say we’re sleeping on the bus?”
He nods and rolls his eyes. “Yeah.”
“My ass is sleeping in a hotel with my body in a bed. You are more than welcome to sleep on the bus, Carl. Reagan and I can share a hotel without ripping each other’s throats out. Right, Reagan?”
Really, I want to rip her panties off and lick her throat in the process. She may be my enemy, but I’ve never wanted anyone more than my body craves her.
Her head tilts to the side, exposing her neck, and she purses her lips. “Yes, as long as you’re on your best behavior.”
“You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine,” I tell her and raise an eyebrow. “Scout’s honor.” I lift two fingers in the air and smirk.
“For fuck’s sake. You were never a Boy Scout,” Reagan says, placing her hands on her hips and rolling her eyes before turning around and starting to walk toward the small inn to the right of us.
“Glad you checked up on me. You know,” I call out, following behind her, “if there’s anything you want to know about me, I’d be happy to fill in the blanks.”
Carl and Lexi are behind us, trying to keep a close eye on us because I can hear the crunch of the gravel under their feet, but I ignore them.
“I can stop by for a nightcap if you’d like,” I offer just to throw her off and ruffle her feathers.
She spins so fast on her heels I almost walk into her. “Listen, Mr. War Hero.” She pokes me in the chest with her long, thin finger. “I want no part of you. Anything I need to know, I’ll find out through research.” The tip of her fingernail digs into my breastbone between my pecs, giving me a delicious pinch.
I glance down at her finger and lick my lips before dragging my eyes back to hers. “I’m quicker and easier.”
“I’ve never liked anything easy.” She hasn’t moved her finger yet, and I take the opportunity to flex so she can feel my hardness.
“Me either.” I resist the urge to touch her when everything in me is screaming for me to do just that and push my sleeves up a bit farther to expose more of my ink.
Her eyes drop for a moment. “You think I was given my seat, but I’ve earned everything.” The vein on the side of her neck is protruding, and I can’t help but stare at its steady rhythm as she speaks. “It was me who campaigned for the state house and won, not my father. Me.”
“Truce.” I lift my hands in the air, signaling my willingness to end the conversation…for now, and I wipe the shitty grin off my face. It’s the one thing that agitates her, and I plan to pull it out whenever possible.
A strange but sexy sound comes from her throat, and she drops her hand. “We’ll never have a truce, Titan. Never. Not even when I beat you on Election Day.” Her chin lifts before she smiles and crosses her arms again.
I can’t stop my eyes from following the movement of her breasts. Based on my reactions, it’s as if I’ve never seen a pair before. I’ve seen enough to know
that I want to see hers without that annoying, partially unbuttoned top. I scrub my hands down my face, not out of frustration, but to stop my eyes from ogling her chest. When I open them, I say, “I look forward to it.”
“Hey.” Lexi steps next to us, but she puts her body partially between us as a barrier. “Although I love the passion both of you have for the race, it’s hotter than Hades out here, and I’d really love some air conditioning.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” I give her a sympathetic smile when she wipes the sweat from her brow. “Let’s get everyone more comfortable.” My mind wanders, and I wonder what Reagan wears when she isn’t dressed up like a stiff businesswoman. “I can’t wait to get out of these clothes myself.”
Reagan chokes and her face reddens.
“Are you okay?” Lexi asks.
“I’m fine,” she replies, tapping on her chest before she saunters off and Lexi follows.
I’m left standing there, watching them walk away, and I can’t stop myself from staring at the sway of her hips. They’re hypnotic. My head snaps forward, and I turn to glare at Carl. “What the fuck, man?”
He’s shaking his head and staring at the ground. “You’re going to be outed as a perv if you keep this shit up, Jude. You’re too overtly sexual with her. You need to stop the bullshit before your pecker gets you in so much trouble that you tank the election.”
I wave him off. “Don’t worry, Carl. I know what I’m doing.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he mutters.
“Come on,” I tell him and start to follow the ladies toward the inn.
Carl moves quickly to catch up. “This is going to be an interesting night.”
“You can say that again,” I whisper with a smile on my face. I’m not done with Reagan…not by a long shot.
After checking in and getting settled, I throw on some sweats and head for the workout room. The woman at the front desk assured me there was a weight set, treadmill, and elliptical in a room at the end of the hall that they converted. It won’t be like my gym at home, but it will do in a pinch. I can’t allow myself to get soft being on the road for the next couple of months.
The voters need to see me as a strong military man. I can’t have my exterior deteriorate without losing a few votes along the way. At this point, I don’t care if I get the female vote because of my looks. I’ll do anything to knock out Preston and become the next senator to represent the great state of Illinois in the nation’s capital.
The familiar sound of the treadmill fills the empty hallway, echoing through the corridor. When I open the door, I freeze. A woman is running, singing “Wicked Games” with her arms moving in a partial upper body dance. I stand there for a moment, watching her tight ponytail swaying back and forth before I realize who it is… Reagan.
Be cool. She’s just a girl. I’m lying to myself. The way her running pants fit her, I can see every curve of her body. She’s exquisite. Leaning against the doorframe, I watch her body move, like a gazelle running with grace.
As the treadmill starts to slow, I push off the doorway before she catches me. The workout room is mediocre, but watching Reagan makes it better. She hasn’t noticed me because of the headphones she has in as she keeps on singing completely out of tune.
I prep my weights before sitting at the end of the workbench. In another time and place, Reagan would’ve been someone I would’ve gone after. She’s not only beautiful, but she’s smart and has a wicked tongue.
She’s a worthy adversary.
When I relax back onto the bench, I glance down my body and notice a huge problem. My cock is tenting my sweats, and my view of her perfectly round ass just makes shit worse.
I find a point on the ceiling and think about something that doesn’t give me wood. But my mind fills with Reagan. Her lips. Her tits. Her ass. Her smile. Her lips. I’m fucked.
Think of something sad.
Nothing comes because it’s all about her. My dick has taken over my brain, and I can’t seem to stop it. Carl would flip his shit if he were here.
Carl. Think about Carl.
Instantly, my hard-on vanishes. Reaching up, I wrap my hands around the bar and start to lift it when I hear the treadmill speed up again.
Do not look.
“Fuck,” I mutter through gritted teeth when I look down the length of my body to see her ass jiggling in the most delicious way.
Carl. Carl. Carl.
It becomes my mantra as I say it over and over again under my breath. I spend the next thirty minutes lifting weights and trying to ignore Reagan and her body.
When the treadmill screeches and comes to a crawl, I sit up and rest my elbows on my knees. The sweat’s trickling down my shoulder, and my shirt is soaked. I’d be lying if I said I remove my shirt just to cool off.
I want her to see me.
She pats her skin with a towel she had hanging over the handle of the treadmill, still oblivious to my presence. I’m smiling before she turns around.
“Oh,” she says, her eyebrows rising quickly toward her dampened hairline. “I didn’t know you were here.” Her voice is loud when she speaks. Her eyes are traveling around my body, moving quickly from muscle to muscle as she pulls her earbuds out.
I flex my muscles, unable to stop from making a fool of myself. “I didn’t mind the company.” My tongue darts out, sweeping across my lips and capturing the salty sweat that has formed.
She hasn’t taken her eyes off me, but they’re no longer looking into my eyes. Her lips are parted, pupils dilated, and she’s watching my tongue.
“I’m a mess.” She covers her face with the towel.
“You are not.” I exhale, trying to steady my breathing. My heart is hammering in my chest harder than usual from a workout, and I can only attribute it to the nearness of Reagan.
Her sweat is trickling down her neck, following every dip and ridge until it disappears into the cleavage of her sports bra. “I better hit the shower,” she mutters into the towel, oblivious to my gawking.
My mind starts to race, and my cock starts to stir. “Need help? I can get all the places you can’t reach.”
All I can think of is her naked and wet. The soapy bubbles dancing across her skin, traveling the long silky path down her legs to the drain.
She steps off the treadmill, her eyes narrowing. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” I stay forward to cover my tenting sweats that I know are partially hidden.
“If I need a hand, I have Lexi to help.” She smirks.
I groan softly. Reagan is a fantasy, but the thought of Lexi and Reagan soapy and wet just about sends me over the edge.
“You have a good night, Titan,” she says, her eyes sweeping over my exposed skin once again.
“Reagan,” I say before her hand touches the doorknob. She pauses two feet to my right, and I can smell her, the salty sweetness of her perspiration mixed with her perfume. “We don’t have to be enemies.”
Her head falls forward, but she doesn’t look at me. “I wish that were true, Jude, but we most certainly can’t be friends.”
She walks out, leaving me with a boner and her scent lingering in the air. Reagan Preston may just be my undoing.
Chapter 6
My phone lights up with my father’s name and number yet again. I’ve been avoiding him since the TV interview the other night. I know I did poorly, and getting a lecture about it will only make me feel worse.
With a sigh, I slide my finger across the screen of my phone and put it up to my ear. “Hey, Dad.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve just been busy.”
“Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to manage damage control when you’ve got your head in the clouds?”
I feel a spark of defensiveness. “My head is not in the clouds. I’ve been working with my staff from morning ’til night on research and a new strategy.”
He scoffs. “That softball staff of yours isn’t prepared to deal with Jude Ti
tan as an opponent. Sonny Solomon is one thing, but a decorated veteran is another.”
“I’m aware. And my staff is loyal to me, so I’m loyal to them. They’ve gotten me this far.”
“Listen, Reagan,” he says in his soft, good-cop tone, “you’ll never have a better opportunity to break in than this. My approval ratings are off the charts, and I’ve given you my wholehearted endorsement.”
“I know. I’m working as hard as I possibly can, Dad. I really am. Elections aren’t won overnight.”
“You don’t need to give me any advice on winning elections,” he says scornfully. “And I hope you realize what an embarrassment it will be to me if you don’t win this.”
I close my eyes and try to rein in my frustration. No one does this to me but my dad. Nothing’s ever good enough for him.
“We’re on it,” I assure him. “Jude Titan took us by surprise, but we’re getting our bearings now.”
“I can send Tom Harbor.”
“No,” I say firmly. “That won’t be necessary.”
I’m sitting at the desk in the hotel room I’m sharing with Lexi, and she steps out of the bathroom and gives me a sympathetic look.
“I think it’s more than necessary,” my father says. “You need a seasoned strategist running your campaign, not your friend from college.”
“Look, it’s under control.”
“It looked very out of control in that interview the other night.”
I blow out a frustrated breath. “What’s done is done. We’re adjusting our course.”
“I’ve got people who can do the background work on Titan that you’ll need when Election Day is closer.”
“Sure,” I say, resigned to the fact that I have to give in on something. “Just don’t send Tom. Background is always good.”
“Don’t ignore me again,” he says, a warning in his tone.
“I wasn’t ignoring you.”
“Reagan.”
“Fine. I won’t ignore you again.”
“I think we need to schedule some joint appearances to align your campaign more closely with me.”
