Rogue Passion

by Sionna Fox

  "My apartment is twenty minutes away," I offer.

  "Mine is five."

  "Oh, thank God."

  "Follow me?"

  "Anywhere." It comes out too earnest for a hookup. I'm saying too much.

  But he has to know—hasn't he? I may have started this movement to hold my assemblyman accountable, but Eli was the one to lead me into becoming a media figure and then a candidate for the man's seat. If I followed him into this new life, I'm sure as hell going to follow him to his place.

  "Come on." He lets me go and holds out his hand.

  Without hesitation, I take it. And I let him lead the way.

  5

  Eli's apartment is just as close as he promised. I park my fifteen-year-old Honda next to his new Beamer in front of a row of little brick townhomes. A faint squirm of discomfort gives me pause. Someone's probably going to write me a nasty note and put it on my cracked windshield, telling me to move my car before I pull down property values.

  Eli doesn't seem to care, though. He steps out of his car with the same fire in his eyes he had a few minutes ago, and just like that, I forget to be embarrassed about my second-hand ride.

  Reaching for my hand, he all but pulls me down the sidewalk and up to one of the painted blue doors. He unlocks it and throws it open, then steps aside for me to enter first. The cool air is a relief on my heated skin.

  I do a little turn, glancing around the place with interest.

  It's fairly nondescript, as bachelor pads go. Clean, at least, which is more than I can say for some guys. A few tasteful art prints decorate the walls, along with a decent-sized flat screen. The black leather couch looks lived in, and there's a take-out box and an empty coffee cup still on the side table, along with a magazine and an open notebook.

  And that's all I have time to take in before strong arms wrap around me from behind.

  "Now where were we?" he rumbles into my ear.

  I close my eyes, melting into him. He takes my weight easily, pressing his lips to the column of my throat. Warmth gathers low in my belly, and it only grows as he slides his hands up and down my sides.

  The shot of confidence from before still has me feeling bold. "Pretty sure we were racing back to your place to finally have sex."

  "Oh, good. I was worried we were here to talk about politics."

  With that, he sweeps me up in his arms. I cut off a shriek of surprise at the rough treatment, but it makes me even warmer and slicker between my thighs.

  He legitimately bridal carries me down a hallway and through an open door. He drops me onto a neatly made bed, then steps back and shucks his suit jacket and steps out of his shoes.

  I follow his cues, kicking off my shoes. As he tears off his tie and his crisp, white dress shirt, I tug my blouse over my head. Normally, I'd be self-conscious about stripping down like this, but he's so intent and methodical about shedding his own clothing.

  When his bare chest comes into view, I suck in a breath. He's all lean muscle and smooth skin. No ink or anything. A patch of coarse hair lies between his pecs, leading to a trail that disappears into the waistband of his suit pants. He undoes his belt and shoves those pants away. Black boxer briefs cling to his trim hips.

  And they're stretched tight across the bulge right in the center.

  I lick my lips at the long, thick line of him. My pussy throbs with wanting, and my nipples tingle, aching to be touched.

  He stalks toward me, then, kneeling up onto the bed. I shiver at the press of his hot skin to mine as he bears me down.

  Hovering over me, he trails a fingertip over my lips, then lower, over my chin and throat and through the valley between my breasts. Anticipation and arousal twine together, making his touch feel electric.

  "Gorgeous." He traces the edge of my bra, then flicks his gaze to meet mine. "Can I?"

  I nod, breathless.

  Straddling my hips, he grazes my lips with his. Desperate for more, I surge upward, tangling my hands in his hair. He kisses me deeper, scooping his hand beneath my bra to cup my breast. I groan as he strokes my nipple, and sparks of heat zip to the aching space between my legs.

  Suddenly, every bit of banter we've shared, every debate we've had all summer long feels like foreplay. Months of glancing touches reach a breaking point, and I need him in me, now.

  I clutch him closer, sliding my palms down his spine to grasp him by the hips.

  He refuses to be rushed, though. Instead of letting me feel the full weight of his body, he shakes his head, breaking the kiss. I let out a whine of protest, fumbling to pull him back.

  But he clearly has a plan in mind.

  "Shh, I got you." He slides his lips down my throat, biting and sucking at that tender flesh before drifting lower.

  When he tugs the cup of my bra out of the way to seal his hot mouth over my nipple, I give up my struggle, melting into the mattress. Jesus, that feels good. He slips a hand under me, and I arch, giving him room to work the clasp of my bra. Once he gets it unfastened, I help him to tear the stupid thing away.

  With his mouth still glued to one of my breasts, he caresses the other with his hand. I spread my legs wantonly, and he grunts in arousal.

  He kisses lower and lower, over my abdomen and down to the waistband of my skirt. He searches for the zipper at the side for a second, then smoothly pulls it down. I lift my hips and push at the fabric. Taking my underwear with it, he shoves the thing away, and it's awkward and wonderful. My feet get tangled up, and his face is even with my pussy, and we're both laughing.

  And then I'm naked under him. And we're not laughing anymore.

  Taking my bare thigh in his hand, he spreads me open. I shudder at the look of hunger in his eyes as he gazes at me. I clench down, needy and empty.

  He doesn't leave me waiting.

  Leaning forward, he buries his face between my thighs. I throw my head back and moan at the wet heat of his tongue as he delves between the lips of my pussy. He laps and laps, teasing me and building me up. Throbbing, I tilt my hips into his touch. I curl my fingers in his hair, trying to steer him to my clit.

  Sending hot breath washing over me, he shifts higher. He presses a finger inside and fits his mouth right exactly where I need it. Bright light bursts through me as he flicks his tongue over my clit then purses his lips around it. He adds another finger inside, and the fullness is a new burst of pleasure.

  The feeling builds inside me—almost too fast. I tense, all my will bent to chasing the searing tendrils of desire coiling within me. He angles his fingers up, rubbing at my inner wall.

  And that's it.

  I come, panting around his name. Climax is sharp and bright, and he chases me through it, licking at me and pressing deep with his fingers.

  Until it's too much. Shuddering with aftershocks, I loosen my grip on his hair.

  I look down.

  And almost tip right over into orgasm again.

  Damn.

  Eli's always been unfairly gorgeous, but this is a whole new level. My pussy throbs at the vision of his face framed by my naked thighs, his red mouth wet with me. His green eyes dark with need, his glasses askew and cheeks flushed.

  Just like that, I'm almost as desperate as I was before we started.

  Nudging him with my legs and tugging at his neck, I urge him to climb back up my body. He goes easily, pausing to press slick kisses to my navel and my breast, and then he's close enough for me to haul him in.

  Tasting myself on his lips sends another wave of desire through me. It only grows as he finally lets his hips meet mine. Huffing out a sound that's pure sex, he drags his cock against my pussy through his underwear. I reach down to grasp his firm rear, and he grinds against me again.

  "Can I?" he breathes. "Fuck, Julie, I want you so much—"

  "Yes, yes, come on."

  I wrestle with his underwear while he lurches to the side. He pulls open his nightstand drawer and grabs a condom, then falls onto me again with his prize in his hand. I shove his boxer briefs d
own, and his cock springs free. It's exactly as thick and hot and huge as I had hoped it would be. I curl my fingers around it and give him a rough stroke, and he groans, scraping my tongue with his teeth.

  Somehow, he gets the condom open. He shoves my hand away in his rush to get it on. I wait, breathless as he covers himself, and then he's there, fitting himself to me. I groan, kissing him hard as he strokes the head of his cock up and down my slit, getting himself wet with me.

  And then he pushes in.

  "Yes," I moan, folding my legs around him.

  "Julie—"

  God, but he's big. He fucks in and out of me, opening me up with his massive cock. It doesn't matter that he just made me come with his mouth. I'm wet and open, but it's still a stretch to let him in.

  Finally, he bottoms out. Fully buried within me, he groans, low and deep.

  Inside, I glow. He hits every sensitive spot inside me, and his hips dig forward, putting pressure on my clit. The stretch is barely this side of uncomfortable, but it's good. So good.

  And it only gets better when he starts to move.

  We kiss messily as he rocks against me. Every motion sends lightning crackling along my spine. Time goes taffy slow. I open my eyes to stare up into his, and I don't know if I've ever felt so close to another person. So open and exposed and yet…

  Safe.

  He's pushed me so much this summer. He's taken the mission I set for myself and turned it into something bigger than just me. He's given me the confidence to fight for the things I believe in.

  And he's given me this.

  Intimacy and friendship and closeness to another person. Someone who gets it. Who gets me.

  Someone who sees who I am and who I could be, and who's helping me to become that person.

  He makes me brave. He makes me whole.

  And here, in this moment, with his body buried deep inside of mine, he's making me feel so, so loved.

  "Eli…"

  "I know."

  He kisses me deeper, sliding almost all the way out. Pure pleasure surges through me as he starts really thrusting. With long strokes, he takes me apart and stitches me right back together, until all I can do is hold on.

  He slips a hand between our bodies to rub at my clit, and I snap.

  I tumble over into a second, blinding climax with his name on my lips. I pulse around him, and he groans into my mouth. His kiss and his thrusts both go sloppy. He grabs my hip and holds me still as he pounds in deep, once, twice…

  "Julie…Julie—"

  He crushes our mouths together and slams home with a groan. Throbbing within me, he shudders, filling the condom with his release.

  And I hold him close, lit up with bliss, brilliant with connection.

  I feel like I can do anything.

  And it's all because of him.

  6

  Burying his face against my hair, Eli collapses over me. I close my arms around him, stroking the back of his neck. He's heavy and hot, and I love the feel of him so much. I flex my inner muscles, and he groans, cock pulsing inside me once more.

  We lie together like that in silence for a moment. I gaze up at his ceiling in wonder. It's kind of hard to believe that I not only got my name on the ballot today. I also got myself into this bed.

  In a perfect world, I don't think I'd ever leave it.

  As the 2016 election proved, though, the world is far from perfect.

  Finally, with a groan, Eli lifts himself onto his elbows. His face is soft, the tension he usually carries with him stripped away along with his suit. One corner of his lips flicks up, and he brushes his nose against mine.

  "I've been wanting to do that for a really, really long time," he says.

  "Me, too."

  I dart my gaze between his eyes. His glasses are smudged to hell, and it's one more bit of endearing dishevelment. Lord knows I liked him pressed and polished, but it turns out rumpled, tousled, and loose-limbed in the afterglow is a pretty fantastic look on him, too.

  Only…

  A tiny edge of doubt is digging into my heart. I frown. "Why didn't you ever make a move?"

  I'm not the kind of woman who expects the man to always be the aggressor. But I do have my wallflower tendencies. It takes me a while to work up to this kind of thing—clearly. If there's a mutual attraction, I'm rarely the one to lean in first.

  A little of the softness to his smile fades away. "Just never seemed right, I guess."

  It's like a door in the distance has quietly swung shut. He presses a kiss to my lips, then reaches between us to grip the condom and pulls out.

  The sudden emptiness sends a pang shivering through me. He rises and pads to the attached bathroom to deal with the condom.

  Suddenly, I feel really, really naked.

  Gathering his comforter around me, I sit up. I'm sore in all the right places, but my discomfort has nothing to do with the physical.

  "But," I start, and then I pause. "This. This does feel right. Doesn't it?"

  It sure feels right to me. A minute ago, he seemed to think so, too.

  He catches my gaze in the mirror. "Very, very right," he promises.

  Only I'm not so sure.

  The water in the bathroom starts to run. He calls out over the sound of the tap, "Hey, you want to order something to eat?"

  "Yeah." That's a little bit of a relief at least. He's not expecting me to leave right away or anything.

  "There's a stack of menus by the fridge."

  "Okay."

  "Go take a look. Then we can talk…okay?"

  Well, that doesn't sound ominous at all. Especially not when combined with his post-sex distancing routine.

  Still, I take comfort from the fact that he wants me to stay at all. Slipping out of bed, I snag his shirt off the floor and tug it on.

  There's something so sexy about walking around a man's apartment naked except for his shirt. His scent surrounds me, warm and comforting and incredibly arousing.

  But I manage to focus. While he finishes cleaning up, I head for the kitchen, where I find the promised menus. I grab them and start shuffling through. The guy has diverse tastes in food, I'll give him that. I turn over the menu for a Thai place I've never tried and flip through it.

  Only something stuck to the side of the fridge catches my eye. I glance away from the menu and back. And then back again.

  Is that…?

  No.

  I set the menus down with a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I take a step closer.

  Yeah. It is.

  A magnet goes clattering to the floor as I rip a piece of letterhead stationary off the fridge. It's from the office of the House Majority Leader of Congress. Slow dawning horror takes that knot in my stomach and pulls.

  The letter is full of congratulations and praise.

  And it's addressed to one Elijah Braddock.

  I drop the letter like it's burned me.

  In a sense, I guess it has.

  How could I have been so stupid?

  I mean, I knew something was going on with Eli. He responded so weirdly to some of our debates, and he knew Ryker's schedule way too well. He gave me tips he had no right knowing as some random bureaucrat. His suits were too expensive.

  Because he's not just cute, gorgeous Eli who bought me coffees and flirted with me and wanted to know more about my position on gun control.

  God, he must think I'm such an idiot. So naive.

  My vision blurs.

  No, he's not just Eli.

  He's Elijah Freaking Braddock.

  Everyone in the state knows the Braddocks. They're practically the Kennedys—the closest thing we have to political royalty.

  They're all Republicans.

  My head spins, and the world threatens to go dark.

  Samuel Braddock was governor for three terms. His brother served in the House and the Senate, and his oldest son is currently attorney general, while his youngest…

  His youngest apparently works for Representative Ryker.
>
  As his chief campaign strategist.

  Angry tears form at the corners of my eyes. I ball my hands into fists.

  "Julie? So I was thinking pizza…"

  I whip around at the sound of the lying traitor's voice.

  Shit. The lying traitor I just slept with.

  Eli— Elijah appears around the doorway dressed in nothing but a fresh pair of boxer briefs. He's cleaned his glasses and straightened his hair, but there was nothing he could do about the mark I sucked into his collarbone or the scratches I left on his arm. Even through the lens of my fury, he looks like sex on legs, and somehow that only makes me angrier.

  I round on him, choking on bile. "How could you?"

  He stops in his tracks. "Um. So not pizza then."

  "You never told me your last name."

  And he's a smart guy. He glances from me to the letter still lying on the floor at my feet. His posture straightens fractionally, but he might as well be putting an ocean of distance between us.

  "You never told me yours, either."

  "I'm not some political operative."

  "You are now."

  I throw my hands up in the air. "Because you made me one!"

  Oh, God.

  If there was any blood left in my face, it drains away.

  "Is that why?" I ask.

  His brows furrow. "Why…?"

  "Why you wanted me to run. You made me into some political figure—what? To make sure your guy would have the weakest opponent ever?"

  "That doesn't even make sense. He was running unopposed."

  "So you got me to run to save your job?"

  What's a chief campaign strategist if there isn't a campaign?

  He honestly looks taken aback. If only I could believe that. "First of all, my job does not need saving."

  "Right. Because you're rich."

  "Because I got Ryker re-elected last cycle, back when people still cared about his sex scandal. He would never fire me."

  "Then what the hell is going on here?"

  It feels like the world is crumbling beneath my feet.