“The DOJ believes Kyle is the cause of this oil issue. They suspect he's utilizing federal land for drilling for his own gain. Not only that but selecting companies which are tied to large campaign supporters while putting tighter restrictions on other private drilling companies.”
“How in the hell…?” I say, trailing off as I slide the first sandwich on to a plate. Slicing it in half with the warm spatula, I slide it down the counter to Randi. “Order up.”
A slight tilt of her head parts her curtain of hair, allowing our eyes to meet. “Thanks, Trouble.”
I nod and start the second sandwich. If I know Tank, he's teetering between the line of happy and hangry.
“That's what they want to know.” A crunch of crispy bread draws my attention from the pan to where Randi is taking her first bite. Slowly, her eyes close, and my heart splits open with joy.
“You're a keeper,” she says, locking eyes with me.
“It's all I know,” I say, trying to keep it light even though I want to fall on my knees and propose to her right here in the kitchen. But fucking hell, I can't because I'm already engaged.
Fuck my life.
“It's all I need,” she replies with a wide smile before she raises her hand to take another bite. “And they don't know how, just suspect,” she continues around a mouthful of sandwich. “He asked me for help.”
Is there any sexier sight than the woman you love devouring the food you cooked for her? I think not. Well, unless she was naked. And spread-eagle on the marble. With me feeding her the food with one hand while the other played between her legs.
“Help?” I cringe at the huskiness in my voice, giving away the lust riding through my veins. “In convicting Birmingham? As in teaming up with DOJ?”
She shakes her head. “No not as an attorney but in gaining evidence.” Attention on me, she says, “Proof. No matter if you’re the president or a sexy-ass secret service agent, anyone needs proof for a case to even be considered to be taken to court.”
“Um, have you seen the last few years in DC?” Tank says with a laugh. “Pretty sure fast allegations get blasted across every news channel and social media daily. Proof isn't needed in today’s trial by Twitter.”
“I agree, but the public opinion of guilt is different than actual guilt. To have both the House and Senate agree to proceed with impeachment, there has to be substantial evidence or they're risking their own careers. Kyle has material on them, don't forget. So they’ll have to know 100 percent that there will be a guilty verdict to even consider moving forward.”
Nodding to an unheard beat, I flip the bread as I process her words. “He needs inside help.”
“That's exactly what Sam wants.” A light flare of pink highlights her cheeks. “I think I can trust him.” I school my features to keep my emotions from showing. “Not that it matters.”
“Order up,” I grumble with less enthusiasm than earlier.
“I agree that we can trust him, but why doesn't it matter?” Tank asks as he leans across the counter with plate in hand, waiting to accept the hot sandwich. I slide it onto his plate and turn back to the stove to prepare the next one.
“You both know what I signed with Kyle,” she explains. “I can't risk being in breach of contract. I'd have to pay everything back, and even with the salary I make, it wouldn't be a drop in the bucket to what I’d owe.” She shoves the last piece of toasted bread into her mouth and shakes her head. “I won't risk it. I have to think long-term.”
Neither Tank nor I say a word. Butter sizzles in the hot pan, filling the otherwise silent kitchen. I chance a look at Tank, whose dark eyes are already on me. He nods, knowing exactly what I’m thinking, and goes back to his sandwich, confirming we're on the same page.
Part of me wants to push her to help the DOJ, even if it means her working closely with Sam. Randi came to DC to make a difference, to stop the political leeches from taking advantage of the people they were elected to fight for. The Randi I met on the campaign trail would be furious at her current desire to stay out of this fight, and for what? Money? Status? Randi's current mindset is selfish, which isn't her.
But it is the safe option.
That’s where the other half wants me to plant my flag, to side with her. Randi already has a target on her back between Birmingham, Whit, and the rest of the aristocratic dipshits who don’t want to change. Assisting on this investigation will put her safety in more jeopardy. Plus it’ll put her working side by side with the man she no doubt finds attractive.
So which do I vocalize?
The smell of burnt bread draws my focus from the white subway tile I'd mindlessly focused on to the pan.
“Shit,” I hiss. Flipping the sandwich, I curse again at the blackened bread. Out of nowhere, my patience snaps. The knob nearly snaps as I twist off the gas flame. Grabbing the sizzling pan with the ruined sandwich, I toss it into the sink with more force than necessary and storm out of the kitchen.
The soft leather recliner molds around my ass and back as I fall into it. Closing my eyes, I take several deep breaths in an attempt to calm my rising anger as heat fills my veins. I shift in the chair, grumbling to myself as I try to get comfortable but fail miserably.
With an annoyed sigh, I reach up and massage my forehead where a blooming headache has started. Even with the soft groan of the leather as I attempt to settle deeper into the chair, her soft footsteps meet my ears. An intoxicating cherry vanilla scent fills my nose, easing the building stress behind my chest. I peek one eye open and watch as she removes one small shoe and then the other.
Slowly, she crawls into the recliner, settling in the small open space between me and the armrest. I exhale long and hard through my nose, pushing out the earlier annoyance. Fingers in her hair, I tuck her head against my chest, then rake them through the soft strands. With each stroke, my earlier anger at the world disintegrates.
“It'll be okay, Mess,” I whisper. Her head lifts, lips parted, but I capture her mouth with my own before she can get a word out. “Let's just relax, hang out. Let everything else wait. I need this, just us acting like there’s nothing else going on, even if it's just for a few minutes. Let's pretend to be a normal couple for just a little while,” I say against her lips, my eyes searching her wide hazel ones.
“Okay, Trouble.” With another quick peck, she lowers her head and snuggles deeper into the chair, moving me out of the way until she’s comfortable. “Wanna watch a movie?”
Unable to resist, I press my lips to the top of her head and smile. “Sure, baby.” Stretching to the side table, I swipe the remote off the metal top and press a few buttons. The massive TV comes alive with SportsCenter as their voices boom from the surround sound. “What do you want to watch?”
No response comes. Tucking my chin, I search her face and smile when I find her eyes closed. Leaning back, I press the button that extends the leg portion of the recliner and leans the backrest backward. She grumbles as the chair moves but doesn't wake.
With another soft kiss to the crown of her head, I rest my head back and close my eyes, savoring the moment. I know it won't last long, but I wish with all that I have that it would.
6
Randi
A loud noise interrupts the peaceful sleep I'd slipped into. Blinking a few times, I keep my cheek nestled against Trey's chest as I fight the lingering drowsiness that always comes after taking too long of a nap. Trey's arm tightens around my waist, preventing me from wiggling out of his snug hold.
Lifting my head, I search the room. T sits on the couch, eyes glued to the baseball game playing on the massive screen. His attention swings to me before focusing back on the game.
“How long was I out?” I whisper to not wake Trey.
“Nearly two hours,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Playboy there fell asleep almost immediately after you. I'd say you both needed a break.”
I let out a deep breath and lay my head back on Trey's chest. “Two hours,” I say in disbelie
f as the realization shatters the peaceful calm. My mind races with all the things I need to do. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, dispersing the lingering effects of the nap. “I need to go.”
T shakes his head. “You're right where you need to be.” His eyes leave the screen to meet mine. “You both have a lot on your plate. You need times like this to make it through it all.” I swallow back the emotions his words evoke and nod in agreement. “It won't be easy, but the stuff worth fighting for never is. But you have to realize he's under just as much pressure as you are. Different pressure, but it's there. Add in this new challenge with the DOJ, and our boy here's near the snapping point.”
“What about the DOJ?” I whisper, stealing a quick look up to make sure Trey's still asleep.
Tank shakes his head. “Sam might be someone we can trust with whatever shit Birmingham's stirring up, but can you trust yourself around him?”
Heat flashes beneath my cheeks. “What's that supposed to mean?”
Tank shoots me a knowing look. “We're not blind, Randi. He's a good-looking man who will probably be around a lot over the next few months. Add in the fact that you two connect on a different level than you and Benson here because of the law school stuff, and it's a concern for him. It's one more thing on his mind, something else for him to worry about when it comes to you. Not only is he worried about your safety—even more so now that Birmingham has a target on your back—but now he has to worry about some other man encroaching on what he considers his.”
“Yeah, I mean, he's attractive and all, but he's not Trey.”
“You say that now,” T says on a groan as he stands and stretches his thick arms above his head. “But what about when you're spending hours on end together as you piece together the evidence needed to impeach Birmingham?”
“I already said I wouldn't,” I state, but even I don't believe it.
T winks. “We all know you will. Just go easy on my boy here is all I'm asking. And fight for him. He needs to know you're all in too.”
The soft leather gives beneath my elbow as I push up to a half-sitting position. Trey's eyes remain closed, his lips slightly parted. Reaching up, I stroke a fingertip along his hairline and down his strong jaw. With his features soft in sleep, I realize how stressed he's been lately. The faint lines along his forehead are gone, the tick of his jaw not there. He looks younger, softer. Still sexy as fuck, but without the stress of the world resting on his shoulders.
“How long do we have before we need to head back?” I whisper to T without taking my eyes off the sleeping Trey.
“You're the boss. You tell us.”
“Give us thirty more minutes.” I flick my gaze to T and nod to the door. “Alone.”
Lips pursed to suppress his smile, T nods and turns to leave.
Once he's out of the condo, I turn my full focus back to Trey. The silky strands of his dark hair slide through my fingers. Guilt eats at my gut. I should've been more understanding of the stress he's under instead of focusing on my own issues. Plus he wouldn't even have all this extra stress if it weren't for me coming in and interrupting his perfect life.
Leaning close, I press a soft kiss to his full lower lip. Kissing along his jawline, I slide a hand down his hard chest, along his trim waist, and lower to his muscular thighs. A soft groan pushes past his lips as I trail my fingers up and down his inner thigh, my knuckles purposefully skimming against his crotch with each pass. His eyes blink open, those honey brown orbs meeting mine instantly.
“Mess,” he says, voice gritty from sleep.
I don't respond, just continue stroking. A sharp hiss pushes through his teeth when I latch my own onto an earlobe, nibbling before sucking it between my lips.
“Where's Tank?” he asks as he grips my waist like a lifeline.
Cupping his straining erection over the thin material of his slacks, I give him a tight squeeze. Lips against his ear, I whisper, “Outside. It's just you and me, Trouble. We have thirty more minutes as a normal couple. Enough talking.”
He grumbles a curse before tugging me across his lap until my hips straddle his own. Hands on his shoulders, I stare down at him as I grind my core against him. My eyes flicker closed at the contact. He dips a hand beneath my T-shirt, his calloused palm scraping up my stomach before wrapping around a breast and squeezing almost to the point of pain. I hiss in pure pleasure at the feel of his fingers dipping into the bra cups.
Releasing his shoulders, I snag the hem of my long-sleeve T-shirt and tug it over my head. A small whimper passes my lips at the loss of his warmth as he unclasps my bra. A quick tug at the middle slides the straps down my arms.
A hot hand presses between my shoulder blades, urging me lower. The cushions beside his head give as both my elbows sink into the chair. His teeth nip at a pebbled nipple. Digging my fingers into his hair, I press my hips lower, desperate for friction as I rock against his straining cock. The seam of my jeans adds to the fabulous resistance. Again Trey presses, this time against my lower back, urging me to grind harder against him.
“Fuck, baby,” he says, kissing the valley between my breasts. “Get your jeans off.”
On trembling arms, I push off the chair to stand. Hooded eyes watch each move as I undo the top button of my jeans and slide the zipper lower. Wetness pools between my thighs as he strokes himself over his pants.
“You're still dressed,” I say, my voice husky with desire.
With a mischievous smirk, he stands and begins to unbutton his dress shirt. Shrugging out of the sleeves, he tosses it to the floor before working his belt free. My mouth waters, heat soaring through my veins as his pants and underwear drop to the floor.
“You're too slow,” he says as he steps out of his pants and toes off his socks.
I swallow hard as I take in his naked body. Lean muscles twitch and flex beneath his naturally tan skin, showing off the strength beneath.
Trey takes a step, closing the distance between us. My lids flutter closed as his warm palms wrap around both cheeks, delicately cradling my face. Heat trails in their wake as he slides his hands lower, down my neck and over my shoulders. A whimper escapes when he pinches both peaked nipples simultaneously.
My heart thunders in anticipation. Back and forth, Trey trails a finger along the top of my jeans, dipping low where the button and zipper are already unfastened. I gasp, my hands shooting up to grip his bare shoulders, when he dips his hand deeper and plunges a finger inside my slick core without warning. My lip sinks beneath my teeth as I attempt to keep my noises to a minimum—who knows how thin these walls are.
I rock my hips against his hand, sending zaps of pleasure sparking through me each time my swollen bundle of nerves hits the heel of his palm. A cool waft of air brushes against my heated skin when he withdraws.
“Trey—” I gasp, my next words forgotten as I'm scooped up in his arms. My arms around his neck, he strides across the living room. His soft lips crash against my own, which immediately part at the insistence of his tongue as he consumes me whole.
The hold beneath my ass eases as I'm lowered to the floor, my toes barely touching a rug before my jeans are ripped down my legs. He lightly shoves my shoulder, and I fall backward, landing with a gasp on top of a bed. Breathless, I take in the room as he tugs my jeans the rest of the way off before climbing up the bed.
Trey hovers above me, eyes intense as he stares down.
Fuck, I love him. I should tell him. But not now, not right before sex. After. Yeah, after is when people do that shit in movies.
My hands come up to grip his shoulders. His brows furrow, not understanding, until I give him a hard shove, urging him onto the bed faceup. A small smirk spreads across his lips as he gives in to my request.
Lying back, he grips my hips and hauls me over his own, positioning my wet center above him.
Hands on his chest, I lower, pressing his hard-on between my slick folds.
“Ah hell, Mess. You’re cruel.”
Back and forth I rock my hips
, causing me to slide along his length though never letting him enter me. The head of his dick skims across my clit, forcing a squeak to push past my lips. Unable to wait any longer, I grasp his hard cock while lifting my hips and position him directly outside my entrance.
I lock my gaze with his as I lower, pushing him deeper inch by inch until my ass hits his thighs. We both let out a relieved groan as I rock forward, allowing him to sink in even deeper.
“That's it, baby,” he grunts out. The hands on my hips tighten as I rise and lower to a quick rhythm. One hand slides forward and delves between my slick folds. I cry out, my pace faltering at the first hard flick against my sensitive clit.
Stars explode behind my eyes and my thighs quiver. I struggle to keep moving as an orgasm slithers through every inch of my mind and body. Trey shouts a curse, both hands holding my hips as he slams his own against me, driving himself in to the hilt over and over, riding out his own release.
The second he relaxes his hold, I slump forward until my forehead hits his sternum.
“I like you on top,” Trey mumbles. Reaching up, he runs a hand over my head and down my neck. With a tug, he brings my face parallel to his own and captures a chaste kiss.
“I….” Just fucking say it, Randi. “I love….” Oh hell, I'm an idiot. “I love it too.”
Trey’s dark brows rise up his forehead in confusion.
You and me both, buddy. No idea why I can't get my shit together and just tell you what I already know.
I love you.
See, easy in my head, but not so much getting that thought past my lips without sounding like a complete moron. You'd think, “Hey, the first woman vice president of the United States has her shit together.” Well, you'd be wrong. Because I 100 percent have a ton of shit, but none of it is together.
The only thing to sway in my favor these days is Mom sticking with rehab and starting to act like a real mom who calls and cares and shit.
Power Switch: Power Play Series Book 3 Page 6