He moved his hands beneath her shirt and pushed it up until her breasts were exposed. He shoved the cups of her bra down and latched his lips to one nipple. She pushed up with her feet until his cock had nearly left her body and then slammed back down on to him. His hands gripped her hips to the point of pain. She’d have bruises later.
As she moved up again, he let her go, and then met her halfway, jamming into her. With his lips pulling on her nipples and his cock fucking her like a maniac, she was soon coming again, if she had ever stopped. He rode her through the orgasm, never letting up.
“Yes. Fuck me. Fuck me hard.”
She felt the edge of his teeth against her nipple as he growled. The rhythm couldn’t last long and she soon felt him pulsing into her as she was on the verge of a third peak. She whined, needing the rush. He must have understood as he moved one hand to her clit and furiously rubbed until she whimpered in release.
Weak from pleasure, she collapsed against him. Her inner muscles twitched a few minutes later as he pulled out. “No.”
He bent his head and kissed her neck where it was exposed to him. “We need to talk.”
She couldn’t do anything but nod. “Not here. My apartment.”
“Where is it?”
“About a ten-minute walk away.”
“I think we can keep our hands to ourselves long enough.”
She began to laugh and the movement had her pussy clenching again as a tremor racked her. “Oh, God.”
His cock bobbed against her, still semi-hard. He still needed to take care of the condom.
She found the strength to push away and stand. Briefly. She had to lean against her desk as her knees weren’t fully capable of holding her weight.
She waved her hand at where his cock was still signaling its interest. “Go take care of that and we’ll head over to my apartment.”
“Any roommates we have to worry about?”
“No.”
The heat in his eyes burned her. “Good.”
6
Half an hour later, Frankie stood in her kitchen area wondering what she was doing. Rafe, hands in pockets, studied the movie posters she’d used to decorate the living room.
She grabbed cans of soda from her fridge and walked over to Rafe. He popped the top and drank down the cold caffeine. She took a moment to enjoy watching the movement of muscles in his neck. It took her mind off the nerves battling in her stomach.
She cleared her throat. “You said you wanted to talk.”
“Yeah.” He raked his fingers through his hair and she realized he was as nervous as she was. Perversely, the realization calmed her.
She gestured to the short couch she’d inherited from her cousin when she moved to the area. “Have a seat.”
He glanced around, but before he could ask where she’d sit, she drew over one of the bar stools she’d gotten for the breakfast bar. She rolled the unopened can between her wrists. “Let’s talk.”
His gaze darted around the apartment before he closed his eyes and drew in a few deep breaths. When he finally opened them again, she saw a steady assuredness in them.
“I’m sorry if I did anything Friday that made you mad at me. I really was worried about you when I didn’t hear from you. That’s why I came to your office today.”
She blinked. From his earlier words, she knew he was mad about her not texting him, but she had never expected an apology. The heat washing over her now had a sour edge to it. “It wasn’t you. Well, not you exactly.” She huffed out a breath. “I told you what happened. You got…I guess caught in the crossfire is the best description.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I figured that was part of it. Frankie, I am really sorry about what happened, but I’ve never been involved in the grant decisions. Even if I was still at work, I wouldn’t be able to do anything to help you.”
Horrified that’s where his thoughts had gone, she scrambled over and gripped his arm. “No. No. That’s not why any of this happened. I didn’t sleep with you at all for that.”
A bit of the tension in his shoulders and face melted away. “Thank God.” He let out a rough laugh. “A person’s ego gets a bit bruised when they figure someone’s slept with them for ulterior reasons.”
“Never.” Despite everything that happened between them, she felt a blush flooding her cheeks. “I had a crush on you. From seeing you in the seminars. It got all mixed up in my mind, I guess. I’m sorry.”
With the backs of his fingers, he stroked her cheek. “Don’t be sorry. In case you couldn’t tell, I really enjoyed myself.”
He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. The gesture was sweetness, and for a moment, she thought that’s all it would be. Then, he nipped her lower lip with his teeth. “I would very much like to continue exploring what’s between us.”
She let out a sigh and leaned her forehead against his. “I would, too. But I’m not sure what’s going to happen to me at the end of the semester. I spent the weekend researching things, but I haven’t made any decisions.”
“Come here.” He settled them into the loveseat so she was cradled against half of his chest and the fingers of her right and his left hands were intertwined. His thumb stroked the side of her palm. She closed her eyes as the comfort of the gesture filled her.
“What do you want to do?” He punctuated the question with a buss to her ear.
“I want to finish my prototype for the filtration and treatment system.”
“Okay. What’s stopping you?”
She let her head flop back onto his shoulder. “I don’t know enough. That’s why I came back to grad school. I needed the assistantship to help pay for school because I’ve been sinking my savings into the prototype. If I have to pay for the degree myself, it’s going to take me longer to finish.”
“How much longer do you have?”
“At least two semesters. If I go part-time to spread out the cost, longer.”
He was silent for a few minutes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him staring a hole in her blank TV as he thought her answers over. She appreciated his serious consideration of her concerns.
Finally, he let out a long breath. “How about this? I know it’ll probably be a bit of a sacrifice, but you were already working part-time with the assistantship. See if you can find a job that you can use to fund your work on the prototype. At least for next semester. I’m off work for the next few weeks while I finish writing my dissertation. We can go over your prototype and your plans for it when we’ve both got free time, and I can put you in contact with any of my friends who might be able to help you finish it.”
“What do you get out of this?”
His jaw firmed, and she spotted a pulse of muscle. “It gives me something positive to do. What you’re trying to accomplish is why I started working at the EPA. I don’t know if I can stay there, but I’m not sure what else I can do at this point. If I can help you, I know I’m doing something good.” He turned so he was looking into her eyes. One corner of his lips lifted. “I’m not sure what trick of fate had you climbing into the seat next to me on Friday, but I’m damn glad for it. You give me hope when I need it most.”
Embarrassed, she ducked her head to burrow her face into his neck. “You’re ridiculous.”
He hugged her. “Want to be ridiculous with me?”
She’d spent the weekend trying to imagine her future, and Rafe’s face had kept intruding on her thoughts. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was something else. But he made her smile and gave her hope, too. And a serious case of lust.
Letting out a sigh, she lifted her lips to his. “I think I can bear the sacrifice.”
My Heartfelt Thanks
First, thank *you* for spending your valuable time with my story! If you want to hear about my latest releases, tidbits about my stories, and exclusives, join my newsletter.
Thank you to everyone who read and edited this story in its various iterations and provided feedback. You not only helped me make this
a better story, you helped me become a better writer.
For those on the front lines of the resistance, particularly when it comes to fighting for quality science education in this country, I see you and thank you for your work.
Get More Books By Kelly
If you love hot contemporary romance and a DC setting, but in a world where the Cubs lost and a woman won the presidency...
Capital Kisses series
Blizzard Bliss - prequel short story
The Bridesmaid and the Hurricane - #1
If you love steamy sensuality in a contemporary setting...
Sweet Heat: Collected Stories, Volume 1
If you love steamy sensuality, but prefer a futuristic or paranormal twist...
Sweet Heat: Collected Stories, Volume 2
And if you love steamy sensuality, and *love* paranormal novellas (Vampires! An immortal warrior! And superheroes with special powers!)...
Sweet Heat: Collected Stories, Volume 3
About the Author
Foiled in her attempts to pursue a career in Forensic Anthropology due to a fatal incomprehension of calculus, Kelly turned to a life of telling people where to go, AKA librarianship. She then took another page out of her idol Indiana Jones' playbook and renamed herself after the dog, writing tales of romance of varying heat levels and erotica. She currently splits her time working on new writing projects and at the day job in a federal library in Washington, DC.
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Mr. Klein Goes To Albany
Stacey Agdern
When the Canadian government—via hockey player-turned-diplomat Adam Klein—proposes a work around to the irrational president, legislative aide Tamara Schneider knows she needs to set them straight. She arranges a road trip to show Adam the state is bigger than just NYC, a tricky business given their history. Can she give the Canadian diplomat a second chance?
This story is dedicated to those who serve politics, justice, and diplomacy. May you always find a light at the end of the tunnel.
1
Nine-thirty on a Tuesday night and Tamara Schneider had finally left her cramped office. She’d settled on a barstool at StarBar, the only bar in Albany, New York, that carried her favorite sweet sparkling wine. She was ordering a third glass when her friend Giselle made an indefinable noise.
Tam put the glass down. “What?”
“Oh my god, Amiga!”
There were few things that made Giselle Mejia gasp like that, and as they weren’t at work, the Democratic Leader of the New York State Senate hadn’t made one of his rare miscues on social media. Probably.
Which meant it was something else. “What, chaverah?”
“Amiga, the dude walking in here. He’s…gorgeous.” Giselle turned back toward the front of the bar and using her beer bottle as a way to disguise the fact she was pointing “Mmmm.”
Tam couldn’t help herself; she followed Giselle’s gaze and almost dropped her wineglass on the tile floor.
Fuck. A. Goddamned. Duck.
What the hell was Adam Klein doing in Albany? Her last Internet search had him safely ensconced in DC, far, far away from her. He’d even started a charity hockey league—which meant he’d gone from being an asshole to an asshole do-gooder. And now he was here. It wasn’t fair.
“Wait, does someone need killing?”
Tam smirked. “No. Not really. Just…incapacitation.”
“I can work with that.”
“No.” Adam Klein was dangerous, but she didn’t want him injured. Not most days, anyhow. “It’s not worth getting embroiled in an international controversy.”
Giselle raised an eyebrow. “International?”
“Canadian. Diplomat. Human quagmire. He’s supposed to be in DC.”
“So what the hell is he doing here?”
“Beats the fuck out of me,” Tam replied. “But I’m gonna go find out.”
Confronting him directly was a horrible idea. So of course that’s exactly what Tam was going to do. Liquid courage and all that.
“Bailing you out of jail for assaulting a diplomat is not my favorite way to spend a Tuesday night, ‘kay?”
Tam laughed. She wouldn’t go as far as physical contact; that always got her in trouble. Which is why she’d been lucky he’d spent the last few years working in DC.
“I’m not going to assault him. I need to find out what he’s doing in the state capital. For professional reasons.”
“Professional reasons?” Giselle snorted. “Suure. “
“I’m doing the Senator’s business and keeping an eye on any random Canadian diplomats that might be in town to investigate legislation.”
Giselle’s laugh broke the momentary silence. “Sorry,” she choked out. “You’re serious and I…wow. Just don’t do anything stupid with the diplomat. And I expect stories tomorrow, kay?”
“Nothing’s going to happen. After I manage conversing with him, because I’m tired and it’s late already, I’m going to go home. Alone.”
“Whatever you say.”
Tam shook her head, put her glass down and straightened her sweater before dismounting the barstool. Her destination was the Canadian who’d found a spot at the other end of the long bar.
Adam Klein stood out like a sore thumb. Even if she didn’t know who he was, she would have noticed the cheekbones, the bright eyes, the dirty blonde hair that framed his face oh so perfectly, the way he wore a suit as if it was made for him. So many emotions crossed her heart and settled into her stomach as she approached him, watched the way he’d propped himself up against the bar like he owned it.
He was gorgeous, untouchable, and, as she’d told Giselle, a quagmire. But what she had neglected to tell Giselle is that he was the destruction of a young girl’s dreams. She hadn’t seen him in six years, and she wished it had been long enough to erase him from her mind and memory. It wasn’t.
It definitely hadn’t been long enough to stop her heart from racing as his eyes lit up as he caught sight of her, a smile curving his lips.
“Hi,” he said.
Instead of melting into a pile of goo at his feet like half of her wanted to do, or punching him to indulge the other half, she put her hands on her hips and glared. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged those broad shoulders, his eyes caressing her body and making her regret how tight her sweater and skirt were. She felt overexposed, and wished she hadn’t left her coat by Giselle.
“Visiting,” he said nonchalantly. “I hear the capital region is nice this time of year.”
Lie. It sounded as if Adam had spent time rehearsing it. Not to mention, he held that beer bottle for dear life. Tam knew Adam’s hands were never still when he was lying.
“Try again. Last I heard you were twiddling your thumbs in DC.”
He laughed, looking around where they stood, like he was searching for a camera. Of course he would. The last time he’d gotten in front of one, he’d embarrassed her on international television.
“I’m collecting shot glasses—American capitals. I got the one from the national capital. Now I’m collecting states. Albany was first on my list.”
“Next.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. He looked so uncomfortable, she almost felt sorry for him.
But almost never counted.
“Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t know? That I have a general purpose but nothing specific as of yet?”
She nodded. After her many years working in politics, that had a ring of truth.
Now that she’d accomplished what she’d come to do, Tam should turn on her heel, grab her jacket and leave him, and this bar, behind. But she couldn’t make herself. She didn’t want to walk away, and she couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Maybe it was because Adam seemed uncertain, his hands still fiddling with the beer bottle. He
’d never been uncertain in front of her. Not ever. Even when he’d shared his emotions, he had been confident, cool, and comfortable. As if he hadn’t been worried about her reactions.
“Tam…”
She looked up at him, waiting to see what he was going to do or say next. It would be so much easier for her to walk away if he’d said something to set her off. Almost anything he’d say at this point would be sufficient.
“I didn’t know I’d be here. I didn’t go in search of you.”
Except that. Except for his obvious and clear understanding that his presence in the city she lived in wasn’t what she wanted. His active struggle with his inability to continue following what he’d agreed to the last time she’d seen him, jolted her in a way she hadn’t expected. It looked off on someone whose natural diplomatic mode was a shade less than cocky.
His obvious vulnerability seemed to ooze from his pores, and grabbed Tam in the worst of places. It made her want to ease his hurt, to stand next to him, talk to him, to soothe him. Maybe touch him. Take his jacket off…
Unfortunately, she remembered why she’d told him she never wanted to see him again; why she’d declared her next destination was a place that didn’t have a Canadian Embassy or Consulate: he’d given her the illusion of security before he yanked it away as only a scared little boy could do.
And she still couldn’t walk away. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, couldn’t leave him in the dust that he deserved. He’d started that conversation, and she couldn’t finish it. She couldn’t turn her back on him.
“You’re staring,” his smooth voice intruded on her thoughts. “But it doesn’t bother me.”
It didn’t? He wanted her to stare at him? He felt comfortable with her eyes on him? Suddenly vulnerability was out the window and she needed to tell him.
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