Speaking of that, I need to call Taeler.
“We still have a few minutes before we go back to reality,” Trey mumbles as he plants soft kisses on my shoulder. “Since I'm responsible for getting you dirty, I feel obligated to help you get clean.”
The corners of my lips twitch upward.
“What a gentleman you are, Mr. Benson.” Leaning forward, I nip at the soft skin beneath his ear. “If I wasn’t bound to a bed earlier by you, I'd actually believe it.”
“You loved it,” he says with a growl. Calloused hands swipe down my back before grabbing handfuls of my ass.
“Um, yeah I did.”
“I love your ass.”
“Thanks.” I giggle.
“And your pussy.”
“Figured that one.”
“And your tits are perfect.”
“Really? I kind of want a boob job.”
He shakes his head. Dark thick locks fall along his forehead, covering part of his right eye. “They're perfect. But do you know what I love most of all, Mess?”
“What?” I whisper. The sudden heaviness of the moment tightens my throat with clogged emotions.
Why the hell is he better at this emotional stuff than I am? I'm the girl, damnit!
“You. Your brilliant mind, quick wit, and giving heart. You think of others before yourself. It's why you're here. It's why you sold your life to Birmingham. You had a chance to make a difference, and you took it no matter the consequences.”
“I was an idiot,” I grumble.
“Maybe a little,” he says with a chuckle.
Shifting my weight, I attempt to roll off him with an annoyed huff. Still laughing, he rolls with me until we're face-to-face lying on our sides. He tucks a rogue lock of dark hair behind my ear. All humor leaves his features, a deep line forming between his brows as he trails his fingertips up and down my bare arm. “You know you have to do it.”
There's no need to question what he's referencing. I knew the second I made the decision not to help the DOJ that it was the wrong choice. I never back away from the fight to help others, and that's exactly what I'd be doing if I chose to hide my head in the sand.
“I know,” I whisper. “But maybe, just for a bit, I wanted to pretend I could walk away, that I didn't have to add this to my already full plate. Sometimes I wish I didn't give a fuck about anyone other than myself.”
“But that's not you. It's never been you.”
I nod with a resigned sigh. “Maybe I should take pointers on how to be more selfish from your mom.” I don't hide my smirk as I search his eyes, hoping he finds me as funny as I find myself.
“A mom joke, seriously?” Reaching around, he smacks my ass, earning a yelp. “And no way in hell would I want you to be around her more than needed to keep up this charade we have going on. I can't believe I have to pretend to be engaged to Jessica.” He groans and rolls to his back, tucking me against his side as he moves. With two fingers, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don't think we thought this through well enough.”
Yes and no. We didn't have many options, and this was the lesser of two evils. Do I hate the idea of him parading around town, getting all handsome and scrumptious for various events and galas with her on his arm? Well, yeah. But we were in a damn corner. His mother upped the ante by creating the engagement angle and holding assault with a deadly weapon charge over his head to make him do it. We both knew there was an out, that he could walk away without those charges ever sticking, but that would’ve left my political career in shambles, his mother going on the warpath and turning everyone against me—even more so than they already are. So we did what we had to do.
We're playing the player, who happens to be his own mother. Trying to, at least.
“I know,” I say as I stroke two fingertips down his sternum and back up again. “But now we have time to get my footing here in DC, find out who your snitch is on the team, and be together. It's not ideal, but nothing has been since Kyle stepped into my run-down office over two years ago. We'll make it through it all.”
“Where does that DOJ guy fit in all this?” he asks, his voice guarded.
“Trey.” I groan and seal my forehead against his bicep. “Don't do that.”
“Do what?”
“Be that guy, the jealous type. I have to work with him. We just established there's no way I can refuse to help them gather evidence on Kyle. To do that, I'll have to work alongside Sam.”
His silence tightens my gut with dread.
“Okay,” he says finally. “I don't like it though, Mess.”
“You don't trust him?” The mattress gives as I push up to my elbows to stare down at his handsome face. Stretching, I swipe the hair out of his eyes. “You need a haircut.”
Trey rolls his eyes and shakes his head, dislodging the remaining dark locks from his forehead. “I don't trust him with you.”
“But you have to trust me,” I plead. “Don't make this a big deal. Don't make it awkward or tense for me. Trust me. Can you do that?”
His honey brown eyes connect with my own. A sad smile tugs at the corners of his lips.
“Okay, Randi. I’ll keep it reined in. But if I think he's crossing a line, pushing outside the professional boundary, I'll say something.”
“Oh, you mean like you did during the campaign?” I say with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
“Exactly my point,” he grits out through clenched teeth.
Well, shit. That backfired.
7
Randi
Steam billows out of the shower as I push the heavy glass door open. I tug a plush warm towel off the warming rack and wrap it around my flushed chest. The soft bathmat pushes between my damp toes as I step out of the shower and grab another towel for my legs. My hands pause, at the sound of hushed voices on the other side of the door, streams of water continuing to cascade down my thighs and over my knees.
Careful to keep my steps silent, I tiptoe across Trey's bathroom and lean close to the closed door, hoping for a hint to who's on the other side. Trey's annoyed grumble causes my lips to curl, but a soft female voice, in his bedroom with me on the other side of the door, drops them to a pursed-lip frown.
What the hell?
Ear to the door, I strain to get a better idea of who the voice belongs to, even though I have a sneaking suspicion I already know.
“We didn't agree to this,” says the familiar female voice.
“We didn't agree to anything.”
“We're engaged,” the female voice blurts. “How does this look? I will not be made a fool, Trey.”
Ah. Jessica.
Instead of hiding behind the door, spying on their conversation, I take a quick step back and tug it open. A flash of satisfaction passes through me at Jessica's shocked features as I move to Trey's side. Her wide eyes trail down my nearly naked body and back up again. Lips pursed, she shakes her head.
“You both know how bad this looks right?”
“And what does it look like, Jessica?” I sneer.
“That he's cheating on me with you. The vice president who he’s tasked to protect.”
Trey wraps an arm around my shoulders, sealing me against his side. “I never agreed to stop seeing Randi. I'm not sure what promises my mother made to you, but ending this between Randi and me was never in the agreement.”
Jessica's cheeks flame pink.
“You know how he feels about me,” I add. What happened to the “I want to be friends” conversation from last night? “What did you expect? Last night, you were all 'You have his heart. Let me borrow him.'”
“Borrow me?” Trey questions with an amused smirk. “Am I the man equivalent of Tupperware now?”
I snort and shake my head. “No way. You're more like a casserole dish. I'd never lend out good Tupperware.”
Jessica huffs and opens her mouth to cut us off, but Trey beats her to it.
“Am I at least a fancy casserole dish?”
“Of course,” I say with a smile.
/> “You two are not taking this seriously,” Jessica barks. Trey shoots me a wink before turning his attention back to her. “There’s a lot at stake.”
“For you or for me?” I ask. Stepping out of Trey's hold, I move to grab my jeans off the floor.
“Both. You need her support, and I need his. I told you this last night. I thought you were on my side.”
“Your side?” I sneer. Forgoing underwear, I tug the tight dark jeans up under the towel. “I think we both walked away from that conversation with different views of the context. I thought you saw my side of me trying to help you stand on your own as a strong, independent woman, not cowering in the shadow of some man.”
“Hey,” Trey calls out behind me as I stride into the living room.
After snatching my bra and long-sleeve T-shirt off the floor, I turn on my heels and march back into the bedroom.
“Don't get me wrong, Trouble. It's a great shadow,” I say with a wink. Slipping inside the bathroom, I drop the towel but keep talking. “But it’s still a shadow. Jessica here seems to think she needs a man to stand beside for her to be anyone in this town, and I wanted to help her realize she does not actually need anyone or anything except for morals and brains.” The soft cotton of the T-shirt slides over my face as I tug it over my head. “Guess we need to work on both if we're having this conversation. Again.”
“I take offense to that,” Jessica snaps.
“Okay.”
When I move around the open door to the bedroom, I find Jessica's cheeks flaming red.
“Take it back.”
“Um, no?” I say, shooting a confused look to Trey. “Is she serious?”
Instead of responding, Trey covers up his amused grin with a fist to his lips.
“Anyway,” I say, moving on from the sidetracked conversation, “I get where you're coming from, and I agree. Trey and I do need to be ultra-cautious now that the whole charade is public.”
Jessica's eyes go wide. “Please don't tell me you still think you can get out of this. Your mother will castrate you and ruin me.” Taking a step closer, she wraps her thin fingers around his bare bicep.
I fight against the annoyed grumble building in my chest at the sight of her touching him. Fucking hell, why didn't he put a shirt on while I was in the shower?
But she does have a point.
“I'll do what I have to do,” Trey says before I can. He meets my gaze. “But like Randi said, you know where my heart lies, and it's not with you, Jessica.”
I wish I was the type of person who can feel victorious in the crestfallen look that takes over Jessica’s face, but I'm not. Even though she's trying to finagle my sexy agent into her grasp, I still can't rejoice in her obvious sadness.
“I need to go,” I mutter. Digging into the back pocket of my jeans, I find a hair tie and quickly whip my hair up into a messy bun. I take a quick glance at my watch and cringe at the time. “Guess you'll be by in a couple hours for your shift?”
Trey nods. “Wouldn't miss it.”
Jessica pouts. “I don't like how much time you two spend together. I'm not getting a fair chance.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with the real Jessica?” I narrow my eyes and move to stand directly in front of her, poking a finger into her bony shoulder. “It seems real.”
“I am real,” she blurts. “And stop touching me.”
“What happened last night after I left?” I scan her from head to toe, attempting to find the answer. I thought Jessica was still my friend through all this mess, but now I'm not so sure.
“Nothing,” Jessica says quickly and averts her gaze. “I just realized he's what I want for my forever, and I'm willing to fight for that.”
“Even though your engagement is based on his lying-ass mother and a backhanded deal you made with her? Great way to start a budding relationship.” I fail to keep the snark out of my tone, because let's be honest, this is dumb. What does she actually think she’ll accomplish? Trey is mine. Period.
“I'm willing to fight for him, for our future,” Jessica states, gripping Trey's arm tighter and squaring her shoulders.
A grimace mars Trey's handsome face as he glances between us.
I need a drink for this crazy show.
“Good luck to you, then, because so am I.” The coarse rug digs into my bare heels as I turn to face Trey. The rough scruff scratches my palms as I cup his cheeks and bring his lips down to meet my own for a deep goodbye kiss.
Petty?
Sure.
Warranted?
Hell. Fucking. Yes.
If Jessica wants to play. I'll play.
* * *
“This is ridiculous,” Champ mutters under his breath as he stretches his arms high over his head. The edge of his Dryfit T-shirt inches higher, exposing the pale, hairy stomach underneath. Quickly I look away and try to find anything else to focus on. Shouldn't be difficult since the core of my alpha team surrounds me all decked out in running gear.
I do agree with Champ, however. This is a bit ridiculous. Last week when I reached out to Sam telling him I’d reconsidered the situation and decided to help the DOJ investigate Kyle, he suggested we get together somewhere private to discuss our options.
This is private all right.
Since he's training for some marathon, he asked to meet at a large park so he could get his run in and talk without anyone knowing about our meeting. However, Trey and T were adamantly against running somewhere too public. So we’re meeting in the middle of nowhere, at the head of a several-mile training trail somewhere near the Quantico marine base.
Having a small army close eased Trey and T's stress enough that they agreed to only have half the alpha team trail after Sam and me. The others, plus more agents, are stationed along the trail and deep in the woods.
Bending my leg, I grip the top of my tennis shoe and pull it back, stretching my tight thigh. The workouts with Trey and training sessions with Sarah have paid off more than I'd like to admit. Now not only can I somewhat defend myself without a weapon, but my endurance is high enough that I won't completely embarrass myself today in front of Sam.
Hopefully.
With the back of my hand, I swipe at the beads of sweat already building along my forehead. I'm usually the cold-natured one, but a DC August day with zero breeze is stifling to say the least. I glance around at the guys, who are already sweating profusely. I swipe the water bottle I’d grabbed from the SUV from the bench beside me and take several long gulps of the somewhat warm water.
“How is it this hot so early?” I complain.
Trey gives an annoyed huff. “Don't look at us. We're not the ones who suggested this little outing.”
I roll my eyes and turn my back to him. He's been testy the past week knowing this day was coming. To say he's not a fan of Sam and me working together is an understatement. The same as me not liking how much Jessica has been hanging around his place. It is what it fucking is.
Nothing is ideal right now. Of course, my life has never been ideal, so I'm used to rolling with the punches. Seems Trey is not. He's like a spoiled man child getting pissy that some other guy is playing with his toy.
Wait, bad analogy. I am not a toy, and Sam is definitely not playing with me.
The crunch of gravel snaps the five men to attention, their heads swiveling in the direction Sam approaches from. My jaw drops as he swaggers closer in nothing but a pair of running shorts and tennis shoes. I can’t help it. No woman could.
A low growl comes from beside me, but I can't tear my eyes off his sexy tatted chest and arms.
“Holy fuck,” I mutter under my breath. Absentmindedly, I bring the water bottle to my lips, downing what’s left. It feels heavy in my empty stomach. Skipping breakfast, and maybe dinner last night, wasn’t my brightest idea, but I have to maximize every second nowadays with the work that’s piling up.
“You're gawking,” T chides behind me.
“Just admiring the art,” I say unconvincingly.
“Madam VP,” Sam says in greeting as he moves closer.
Trey steps between us, cutting off his approach.
Champ comes up behind Sam and pats down his shorts before crouching low to check his socks and shoes. Then he stands and nods, giving the all clear.
“He's clean.”
“Seriously?” I say, glancing over my shoulder at T. “Is that necessary?”
“Considering everything going on with you and the trouble that seems to follow you, yeah, it's necessary.”
“I told you from the start that I'd keep your lives interesting,” I say with a smile and a soft pat on his shoulder.
A shiver pulses down my spine when Sam moves close. It takes everything in me to not glance down to his toned chest now that I have an up-close view of his colorful tattoos.
“Ready?” I ask, swallowing back the rising nerves. “It’s already hot as hades out here.”
It takes a few minutes for us to find a slow rhythm that works for the entire group.
“So,” Sam says, breaking the silence, “what made you change your mind?”
I shrug a single shoulder. “It's the right thing to do. I can't just stand back knowing I could help when it affects the people who voted me into this role in the first place.”
“Why are you in long sleeves?” he asks, not even breathing hard.
“I wasn't sure who all would be out here, and I like to keep my tattoos covered.”
“I don't remember you having visible tattoos.”
I hop over an exposed root and smile. “Because those classrooms were the same temperature as a meat locker. I was always in long sleeves and a jacket, so you never had a chance to see them.”
“How do I know you're not working a different angle?”
I furrow my brows. “Why would I work an angle about my tattoos?”
From the corner of my eye, I catch him smiling. “About the president and the investigation.”
“Oh.” I cringe at my ignorant response, though who knows? Maybe that was what he was going for, to see how I'd react. A guilty person would already have a response prepared and immediately follow his line of questioning. Smart, actually. “I see what you're doing.” That smile of his widens. “And I guess you just have to take my word for it.”
Power Switch: Power Play Series Book 3 Page 7