My mother smiled, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “You’re charming. Charm her.”
Jesus. “I’m trying.”
“Try harder. Girls need a little romance in their lives.”
“She hates romance. I’m using stealth tactics to not freak her out. I keep buying her flowers, but I can’t actually give them to her because that might scare her, so I just leave them around the house.”
She laughed. “You would choose a difficult one.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Things have come easily for you your entire life. Don’t get me wrong, as a mother I’ve loved watching you sail through. But I’ve worried about you. Sometimes when things come easily for us, we don’t appreciate their worth. I’m not saying you take things for granted, but you’ve never had to take big risks. You’ve never put yourself out there. Maybe this girl will be good for you. Maybe you need her.”
That was what scared me the most. “And if she doesn’t want me after all?”
“Then she’s a stupid girl who never deserved you in the first place.”
“That’s your totally unbiased opinion?”
She laughed. “There’s no such thing as unbiased when it comes to your children. My greatest joy in life is to see you happy. I want grandchildren to play with. I want you to find a wife who can give you the kind of marriage your father has given me.
“For what it’s worth, I liked her. She seemed like a smart girl, and she was polite without making any effort to impress us. There was nothing pretentious about her; she didn’t suck up to us because we were your parents. She just seemed to be herself. I respected that.”
I grinned. “With Jackie, what you see is what you get. Having money hurts me more than helps with her.”
“Good. But just be careful, okay? I know you; when you want something, that’s it, but think about your future. Be smart about this so you don’t throw everything away. It’s romantic to give everything up for love, but make sure you don’t end up regretting it. I don’t want you to realize the price was too high when it’s too late.”
I nodded like we weren’t already past the point of no return.
Chapter Seventeen
Spotted: A certain candidate for state senate getting very cozy at McGuire’s.
—Capital Confessions blog
Jackie
Will texted me to meet him at a bar in Alexandria. It was one of those moments when my brain screamed, “bad idea,” and my fingers typed, “okay.” I was having a lot of those moments lately.
He’d chosen an Irish pub in Old Town. It was the kind of place that favored more tourists than locals, so the odds of him getting recognized were low. Still, it made me nervous to be out in public with him. The Hay-Adams had been reckless, and that was before I’d realized who he was. Now I worried we were playing with fire.
I walked through the doorway, the scent of beer and the sound of loud music hitting me instantly. My lips curved. By the look of things it was a rowdy place, and totally not what I would have expected him to choose.
I scanned the room, searching for Will. And then I saw him, sitting in a corner, tucked away from the crowd.
He smiled at me as I walked over to his table, not the campaign smile, the one he flashed voters and his staff, but the smile he gave me in private, the one that started at his lips and ended in his eyes. The one that made my heart kick up a beat.
He’d removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, exposing his tanned, muscular forearms. At some point he’d taken off his tie. He looked adorable, and I couldn’t keep the answering smile off of my face.
“Hi.” Will rose from his seat and held out my chair as I sat down next to him. The gesture pulled another smile out of me. He always did things like this. Little by little I’d grown used to how polite he was, how these small gestures were effortless for him.
“Hi.”
He gestured to the drinks on the table. “I ordered you a Jack and Coke. Well, Diet Coke.”
“Thanks.” It was so like him to remember my favorite drink and have it waiting for me when I arrived. I flashed him my biggest grin. “Your mother raised you right.”
His smile deepened as he settled back into his chair. “Did she?”
“She did.” I took a sip of my drink, studying him over the glass. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve him, for him to pick me out of all the girls who probably would have loved for him to stare at them like he looked at me. But whatever it was, I was eternally grateful.
“She likes you, you know.”
I tried to swallow, but the drink got caught in my throat. I coughed.
“You okay?”
I nodded, struggling to get my breathing under control. “You talked about me with your mother?”
“More like she talked about you with me. She thought you were smart, and liked that you didn’t give a shit about impressing her.”
“You talked about me with your mother.” I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it. I’d never thought of myself as the kind of girl a guy brought home to meet his parents. I didn’t come from a “good family.” I could field questions about my background for about a minute before it became obvious that I was pretty much a hot mess. And he’d talked about me with his mother.
Will reached across the table, taking my hand in his. Instinct kicked in, and I pulled back—tried to, at least. But he held me there, my hand in his, his grip surprisingly firm.
“We’re in public,” I hissed.
“Don’t care. I want to kiss you.”
Oh, god.
“You can’t kiss me in public.”
He laughed. “You really shouldn’t dare me like that. Haven’t you figured out by now that I never back down from a challenge?”
My eyes widened. “People will see.”
“Do you think I give a shit about whether people see?”
“You should.”
His gaze held mine. “What would they see? That I’m kissing a beautiful girl with a mind that would make Machiavelli proud? Scandalous.”
I closed my eyes, drowning in his words. It was sad that out of all the compliments he gave me, the Machiavelli comment was probably my favorite. Of course, he knew that.
“Will . . .”
If it were only that simple, if things weren’t so complicated, if I weren’t afraid the truth would send him running in the opposite direction. If. I wasn’t lying to him because I was afraid I couldn’t trust him with my secrets. I lied to him because I was afraid that when he knew the truth he would leave.
“Don’t.” He leaned forward in his chair, his mouth capturing mine, swallowing my protests.
Compared to our other kisses, it was relatively chaste. And yet it wasn’t. It was the kind of kiss I felt through my whole body, all the way down to my toes.
With each kiss he taught me more. This kiss taught me that once again I’d underestimated him. There was a recklessness to him I never would have recognized before. Maybe that was the part of him that spoke to me. The part that pushed me beyond my comfort zone, that had me taking insane risks, the part that kissed him back like there was never a chance I wouldn’t kiss him back.
He broke away first, a satisfied gleam in his eyes.
I opened my mouth to speak, and then I heard my name—
“Jackie.”
Will
It took me a second to notice the guy standing in front of our table; after that kiss Jackie had all of my attention. But her gaze jerked away and then mine followed.
The guy standing in front of us was tall and skinny—fine, maybe not skinny, perhaps lean was a better word. He was dressed in black—grungy black T-shirt, black jeans—tell me he wasn’t wearing skinny jeans. His body was a patchwork of tattoos, all with various sayings and images—and piercings, his eyebrow, his lip. We couldn’t have been more different if we tried, the contrast between his tattoos and my suit jarring.
His arm wrapped around Jackie, his face too close
to hers, and something inside of me snapped. I hadn’t lied when I told her I wasn’t the jealous type—it wasn’t my style. But seeing this guy with his arm around Jackie was enough for me to revise my assessment. Don’t ask me how, but somehow I knew they’d slept together, and I didn’t give a shit what it made me, I wanted to put my fist through his face.
I took another sip of my drink instead.
The guy pulled away from Jackie, his arm still looped around her waist, and nodded at me.
“Hey man, I’m Trap.”
Seriously? My eyes narrowed and I shot Jackie my, are you fucking kidding me, face. She flushed in return. I tried to remember our earlier conversation. There had been three guys. I doubted this was the high school guy, so process of elimination . . . one of the two guys before me.
Trap extended his hand and I had an out-of-body experience.
“I’m Will.” My tone was cooler than normal as I wrenched the words out. I wanted to tell him to take his arm away from my . . . and there was the problem. I didn’t have an end to that sentence. Not the one I wanted anyway. She wasn’t my girlfriend; she wasn’t anything, and fuck, if she wasn’t everything.
Trap spoke with Jackie before turning back to me.
“Nice to meet you, man.”
At least he was polite. I nodded, unable to actually form the words, nice to meet you, too. I couldn’t say anything at all past the giant boulder lodged in my throat.
Jackie stared down at the table as he walked away. For a minute neither one of us spoke.
She lifted her gaze, meeting mine. “He’s—”
“Someone you slept with.”
Jackie flushed, but didn’t correct me. “This is awkward.”
“Why is it awkward? You told me you had guys in your past.” I shrugged. “You don’t do relationships, right? So what, he’s just another guy you’ve slept with? Like me.”
There was an edge to my voice, one I didn’t recognize. I wasn’t this guy, petty and mean, spoiling for a fight. And yet the words kept coming out of my mouth.
Anger flared in her eyes. “Because you were what, a virgin when we met? You’re telling me that if we were in some country club in Greenwich, we wouldn’t run into six girls with Chanel bags and pearls who you’d banged? Bullshit.”
It was the word “banged” that brought me back.
I glared at her across the table, frustration pushing me over the edge. “You drive me absolutely crazy. At least those girls didn’t make me question my sanity every five minutes.”
“You’re being an asshole,” she snapped.
I loved her fire, her strength. Loved that she wouldn’t be cowed by my mood. I loved her. And this back-and-forth between us, the way she refused to let me in, was making me crazy.
I reached across the table again, struggling to push through the emotions pulling me in five different directions.
“I know. But he put his arm around you . . .” My voice trailed off. “I hate knowing he was inside you, that he got to see that side of you.”
I hate the part of me that’s afraid what we have won’t stick, and you’ll just go back to him or move on to some other guy as if I mean nothing to you. I hate that you might walk away from me like this is nothing.
“You’re jealous.” There wasn’t judgment in her tone, instead there was almost a curiosity, as though it were the only logical conclusion she could reach, and she still wasn’t sure it was the right one.
“I’m jealous.”
I hated admitting it, but I couldn’t lie to her. She pulled things out of me I never intended to share.
She was quiet, and I felt that same panicked feeling telling me maybe I’d pushed her too far.
“I’d hate meeting one of your ex-girlfriends, too.” She said it like I’d wrenched the admission from her. “And I bet there were more than a few.”
“There were,” I admitted.
“And they probably looked nothing like me, and don’t say words like ‘banged.’”
I grinned despite myself. “That’s definitely true.”
“I get that it’s weird seeing Trap, but I was never with him. We hooked up, and he’s not a bad guy, but it was never a thing.”
“Is this a thing?” I asked the question casually, like it wasn’t one of the most important questions I’d ever ask.
A smile slid across her face. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
And just like that I had another piece of her.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s go back to your place.”
Panic filled her eyes. “My place?”
“I want to see where you live.”
“I have a roommate.”
I should have cared, but I didn’t. We had sex, and we worked together, and yet I only got to see pieces of her. I knew her political views, knew her favorite drink and her favorite food, but that was about it. I wanted to see how she lived, wanted to peel back the layers she held so close to the vest.
It was an elaborate chess game with her. I had to move forward without risking too much, had to be aggressive and take chances when they presented themselves. It was a challenge, and frustrating as hell, and I was too hooked to walk away.
“Is she always there?”
“Well, no, she has a boyfriend.”
“See, so maybe she’ll be gone. And if she isn’t, we’ll sort it out.”
Jackie frowned. “I have posters on my walls, and dishes that don’t match, sheets I bought at Target. My mattress sags in the middle, and hot water is a commodity. My apartment is kind of a shit hole. Why do you want to come back to my place?”
“Because it’s yours.” I leaned forward, brushing a kiss to her cheek. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. You can’t scare me away.”
She hesitated for what felt like forever, and then nodded, taking my hand and following me out of the bar.
Chapter Eighteen
Rumors of a campaign finance enquiry . . .
—Fourth draft, Capital Confessions blog
Jackie
This was such a bad idea. One minute I was trying to smooth over the awkwardness caused by Trap’s sudden appearance, and the next I was agreeing to go back to my apartment. . . my shitty apartment.
As I slid my key into the lock and flipped on the light switch, I felt a rush of relief that my roommate was out.
“So this is it.” I gestured toward the tiny living room connected to an even smaller kitchen. “My bedroom is over there.” I pointed to a white door across from the living room, embarrassment flooding me.
The location was decent and convenient for work, but I paid a huge premium for that. There wasn’t much of a budget left over for frills.
Will stood in the entryway, his gaze surveying the room. He walked over to one of the bookshelves, studying the contents while I stood there awkwardly, trying to figure out how to handle this. I’d had guys over, but they were all college students like me. Given the way college boys lived, I hadn’t been worried my place would seem messy or cheap or, oh shit, I left clothes on the floor in the bedroom.
“I’ll be right back.”
I sprinted past him, opening the door to my room. Thank god, it wasn’t as messy as it usually was. Sometimes I worked so late that by the time I got home, it was all I could do to take off my clothes and get into bed. Hence the piles. I grabbed a pile, opening my closet door and throwing the clothes in. I assessed the room quickly, searching for anything embarrassing, anything that would make him head for the hills. It wasn’t great, but honestly, it could’ve been a lot worse.
I tried to imagine my apartment through his eyes. He’d been in college once, years ago, and yet somehow I figured that experience was totally different from the way I lived.
Will walked into the bedroom behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me against his body.
“I like your place,” he murmured against my neck.
I flushed.
His lips trave
led higher, teasing my earlobe. My breath caught.
“It’s small and a little messy. I haven’t had a lot of time to clean lately.”
His teeth grazed my lobe, tugging slightly.
“I like it. It looks lived in. Comfortable. Quirky. It looks like you.” He bent his head, pulling my hair to the side, giving himself better access as he pulled me tighter against him. His hands moved upward, resting under the curve of my breasts. He brushed against me and I felt just how turned on he was.
“The bed’s not very comfortable.” I wished we were back at his place, wished it were his secrets lingering around us rather than mine. “And it’s loud in the morning. We can go somewhere else—”
His hand moved higher, cupping my breast through my clothes. He tweaked my nipples, tugging gently as pleasure shot through me, building, desperate for release. My hips swayed, my ass rubbing against his erection.
He groaned and spun me around, his mouth coming down on mine. My protests disappeared along with my fear, and all thoughts save one—
More.
I looped my arms around his neck, plastering my body against his while he maneuvered me back until I hit the bed.
Will leaned over me, pushing me down onto the mattress, his body on top of mine. He reached between us, tugging my shirt over my head, moving for my bra next, undoing the hook in an easy motion, stripping the lace from my body.
My hips rocked against his, already desperate to have him inside me. He bent his head and his lips brushed the tips of my breasts, his stubble scraping the skin there. A shiver ripped through my body.
My back arched, pushing my body up, offering myself to him. He took what I offered, his mouth coming down to cover my breasts, his tongue grazing my nipple, a whisper of touches that made me want more.
I fumbled with Will’s clothes, desperate for his bare skin against mine. He bent down, unzipping my jeans, tugging them from my legs. We worked in tandem, our limbs part of an intricate dance, a race to the finish.
His elbow accidentally hit my side. I laughed, the sound filling the air between us.
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