Power Switch: Power Play Series Book 3

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Power Switch: Power Play Series Book 3 Page 13

by Mitchell, Kennedy L.


  But the past three weeks are in the top ten, for sure, with having to see him dressed up with Jessica smiling on his arm instead of me at all the functions we’ve attended. Watching them is torture, yet I can’t stop.

  I miss him, desperately. Sure, I see him when he's on shift, which is just about every day, but I miss us. The easy laughter, the conversations, the friendship. Things have been awkward, making me wonder if we'll ever get back to the ease of things.

  “I need to get laid,” I grumble.

  Sam and the senator shoot a confused look my way but keep talking.

  Whatever.

  “You're frowning, honey,” Sam says into my ear.

  I fight the urge to rub my shoulder against the ear his breath tickled. “Sorry,” I mutter. Turning my face up, I offer my biggest, fakest smile. “Better?” I say through clenched teeth.

  “A lot worse, actually.” He laughs, then flicks his gaze to the champagne glass. “Why do you always grab a glass if you won’t drink it?”

  “That’s exactly why I grab it.” Slowly, I ease the overzealous smile to relieve the ache in my cheeks. “If I don't like it, then I don't have to worry about drinking too much and doing something stupid.”

  “Like what?”

  Biting my lip, I scan the crowd. “Oh, you know, like walking up to Kyle over there and punching him in the throat.”

  I startle at Sam's sudden laugh.

  “Seriously?”

  I lift a bare shoulder in a half shrug. “I've always had to hold myself back from physical violence with him. One time I even launched a coffee mug at his head—in the Oval Office, mind you. Holding back was easier before though.”

  “And why's that?” he says, humor in his voice.

  “Sa—” T's threats of ever mentioning his wife flash across my mind. “I mean, my trainer taught me self-defense, so now I know how to hit, where to make it hurt. So now that makes holding back that much more difficult. Before, it was just all a fun fantasy. Now I can actually do it.”

  “Your fantasies are strangely violent.”

  “You have no idea. I also have several involving utilizing unicorns as weapons of mass destruction.”

  Curious gazes shift our way at Sam's full, real laugh rumbling through the politely quiet conversations going on around us.

  “Now that I'd like to see.”

  “Same.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “How much longer do you need to stay here?”

  Sam's gaze scans the room before settling on me. “A while. There are several campaign supporters here tonight who I haven’t spoken to before. Ready to leave so soon?”

  “Hell yes. This thing is killing me slowly. I’m pretty sure my lungs are only functioning at 5 percent.”

  “Your dress?” His brows rise up his forehead as he lowers his gaze to my midsection, pausing briefly at the small amount of cleavage on display.

  “Yes, I swear it has a built in girdle meant to squish all my organs. I’m dying slowly here.” His gaze remains low. Snapping my fingers at my belly button, I draw his attention back up to my face. “Eyes up here, boyfriend.”

  “Okay, girlfriend.” Humor dances in his green eyes. For a moment, I relish the ease of the conversation, the simple back-and-forth. I miss doing this with Trey, but since he seems unable to play nice right now, I guess I’ll have to get my friendship fix from Sam.

  “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” I ask, once again looking out amongst the crowd in hopes of a glimpse at Trey. The last time I saw him and Jessica, they were entertaining a group of old fat guys, also known as several of our key senators and congressmen.

  They were holding hands.

  Holding hands!

  I feel like that's breach of contract or something. Maybe when I suggested this whole “on hold” scenario, we should've hashed out the parameters. As in no physical contact with the people we’re pretending to date/be engaged to.

  Just as I think that, Sam rests his hand on my shoulder. I stare at his thick knuckles and wide fingers for half a second, enjoying the touch, before carefully stepping away.

  Awareness at being watched prickles at my neck. Searching over my shoulder, my gaze locks with a pair of furious honey brown ones.

  Back and forth, his gaze bounces between the shoulder Sam touched and my eyes. With a slight tilt of his head, he whispers something to Jessica and then moves through the crowd in the direction he'd just indicated, leaving her behind.

  My heart races. The glass between my fingers trembles. Careful to not spill a drop, I secure my palm over the top of flute.

  “I'll be right back,” I say to Sam. I take a step only for my next to be halted. Turning, I look between his hand around my elbow and his face.

  “Do not leave without me, Randi.” Lips pursed, he shakes his head. “It worried me the last time you did that and I couldn’t find you.”

  Whoops. Okay, yeah, he does have reason to be concerned. Last week I bounced from a party without telling him because I just couldn't take it anymore. One more minute faking it and I was going to crack and show everyone just how crazy I really am.

  Which is scary because I don't even know the extent of my crazy. It seems to get deeper with each passing year. Probably something I should work on containing, but, meh, next year. Maybe when I'm forty, things will even out and I'll be just as normal as normal can be.

  Or maybe fifty. It can be a stretch goal.

  “Sixty seems like a good age.”

  “What are you talking about, Randi?”

  I smile to Sam. “Nothing, and noted that I’m not to leave unless I send you a text.”

  “Not. At. All.” His eyes narrow like he's trying to make a point.

  “You know, you give off this bad guy vibe with your dark hair, tattoos, and emotionless face, but I see through you.”

  “Oh?” he asks, clearly amused.

  “Yep.”

  “Go, Randi,” he says with a confused smile. “I'll be doing our espionage job alone while you're gone.”

  Two fingers to my brow, I give him a mock salute.

  What the fuck is wrong with me and my damn hands? Do they plot to embarrass me?

  Grumbling my annoyance at myself, I shift through the crowd. Halfway through the crowded room, a hand wraps around my bicep, tugging me backward.

  “Trailer,” Shawn says behind me. “We need to talk.”

  Like Sarah trained me, I use my weight to yank the arm from his grasp. Surprise flairs behind his evil eyes before vanishing as quickly as it came.

  “No we don't.” A few guests flick nervous glances between us. Remembering my role, I try for my best smile, knowing it's more of a grimace at this point. “If you'll excuse me, I need to go piss.” Fuck. A few women gasp, their French-tipped fingers lightly pressed to their painted lips. “Sorry. I need to find the toilet.” Oh hell.

  Not wanting to say anything else that will lower their already devastatingly low opinions of me, I turn quickly and move toward the door Trey walked through what feels like hours ago. Before exiting the room, I rest the full glass of champagne on a side table. Nerves riding high, I swipe both hands down the front of my red dress and step into the hallway, inspecting to the left, then the right. Both directions are empty. The hope of seeing Trey deflates, leaving only the aching pain of my kidneys being pushed to the front of my body by the torture contraption strangling my waist.

  “Turn right,” T says behind me.

  After having him at my side for so long, sometimes I forget he’s even there. Not turning, I smile at the opposite wall. “Thanks, T.”

  The stiletto heels make zero sound as I make my way down the dimly lit hall, anticipation rising with each step. The overhead chandeliers—because who doesn’t have chandeliers in their hallway?—give off a soft glow, casting shadows in every corner and disappearing altogether into the few empty ballrooms. I pass one darkened room only to pause at the sight of movement. I cast an apprehensive glance into the darkness.

  Out
of the shadows, Trey materializes. He extends a single hand, palm up. With zero doubts, I smile and take it. As he guides me deeper into the darkness, I mirror his smile. With a small tug, I’m against his chest and being lifted in his arms as he kicks the door shut behind us with the heel of his dress shoe.

  “What are you—” The rest of the thought vanishes with the heat of his lips pressing against mine. I forget everything. All the worry, anger, frustration, and disappointment from the past three weeks vaporize with one simple kiss.

  His hands skim up my bare back, down my arms, and back again. Mine do the same, enjoying the dips of his strong, lean muscles beneath his tux. I gasp into his mouth as the cold wall presses against my back.

  “This has to be quick,” Trey mutters against my lips. Pulling back an inch, I can barely see his face, but somehow I know he's waiting for permission. That this isn't just him needing this reminder, this connection.

  “Yes,” I groan as his hand cups my breast, pinching the hard nipple over the dress. “Fuck yes.”

  Terrible idea, but hell yes.

  My hair whips around my shoulders as I'm spun in place. The wall now presses against my warm cheek. Each panting breath pushes back against my face. A knock against my ankles urges me to widen my stance. Anticipation builds, dampening my center, readying me for whatever he has in mind.

  The danger and possibility of getting caught hype up my desire. Warm fingers trail up the inside of both legs, bunching the satin material around my waist. Not wasting any time, he slides a hand forward, dipping underneath my already wet lace thong. My gasp turns into a pleasure-filled groan as he slides two fingers inside, slowly pumping in and out.

  With less finesse, he rips my underwear down my thighs. The clink of his belt followed by the slow sigh of his zipper lowering has me pushing my hips back toward him, eager for him to take what he knows we both need.

  The flesh of my hips molds beneath his tight grasp as he pushes in deep with one thrust. Our groans mirror one another’s. Palms against the wall, I push back, desperate for him to move, to give me what I've been denied the past three weeks.

  The smacking of flesh and slick sounds of our bodies connecting echo in the darkness, only interrupted by cries stifled by his palm sealed to my lips. Pleasure tightens low in my belly. Chasing the building orgasm, I quicken my pace, thrusting hard back into him.

  Heat engulfs my back. Wet lips press to the shell of my ear, sending a desire-induced shudder down my spine.

  “You're mine, Mess,” Trey breathes into my ear. “We're not on hold. We're not over. This is just the beginning of us, and I will not lose you.”

  I cry out, biting his palm to quiet the sound. Grunting into my ear, Trey slams into me over and over, drawing out my orgasm as he curses, finding his own release. Panting, his uneven breaths brush against my shoulder.

  I smile into the dark. Stupidest, most glorious thing I've ever done.

  If only we had time to do it again.

  The sense of loss fills my belly as he pulls out. Something soft presses against my center as Trey gently wipes up the evidence of our sexcapade.

  “Thanks,” I mutter, trying to find my normal voice. “Do I say thank you?” Just saying it out loud causes a giggle to bubble from my chest.

  “I miss that sound,” Trey says, lips against my neck. “I miss you. I miss us.”

  “Me too,” I admit. “But this was….”

  “Fucking hot as hell.”

  A full laugh bursts past my lips. Both hands seal over my mouth to keep the noise to a minimum. “That, and stupid. What if we get caught? We both know what's on the line.”

  “We just have to be careful, Mess. It's not just the sex I miss, it's you. The real you, not the one you allow everyone else to see.”

  “This will all be over soon, and then—”

  “Then it will be something else, then something else. I'm fighting for us, Randi, how I can. I need you to fight for us too. Don't close me out. Don't keep your distance anymore. I can't take it. It's breaking me every day I don't get you.” His wet lips press hard against my shoulder. “I love you.”

  After assisting in situating my thong back to its rightful place, he smooths down the skirt of the designer dress. Without another word, he tugs the door open. The bright light of the hallway blinds me. I hold a hand over my closed eyelids to dampen the visual assault.

  When I find the nerve to move my hand away, I blink at the person holding the door.

  “Where'd he go?” I ask T.

  “Back where he should be.” His words hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. I suck in a quick breath, and his eyes flare with realization. “Tonight. Where he should be tonight, right now. He's a fool sneaking you away, but I also know he couldn't hold back any more.”

  Stepping into the bright hallway, I smooth down my hair and run a finger along the edge of my lips to wipe away any smudges.

  “I noticed,” I say with a satisfied smile. For the first time in weeks, I take a deep breath. “I needed it as much as him.”

  “Damn, you two have it bad.”

  Slowly, we make our way back down the hall toward the craziness I've sold my life to.

  “Lust?” I say, hating the word because of the cheapness it offers.

  “It's more than that and you know it.”

  With the high fading, the realization of what we just did, what could’ve happened, sinks in. “Sam….” I don’t know what to say other than just his name.

  “Don’t worry. We knew to keep this discreet. Since we still don't know who the leak is, I sent the other guys to the perimeter except them.” I sneak a peek over my shoulder. Champ and Walsh match our steps, their attention scanning the hallway for threats. “I trust these two. It's why they're here and no one else.”

  Turning back, I slow my steps, giving us time to finish the conversation before I reenter the ballroom.

  “We'll find the guy,” T assures me.

  “It's odd though, right?” I raise a hand to my lips to nibble at the already too short pinkie nail. “You'd think we'd have felt something… off with someone by now. Or at least had some kind of hint. Maybe it is someone on the beta team, and that's why we don't have a good read on them because we're not around them every day.”

  “Could be. I'm having their team lead look into each agent. Listen.” He rests his large hands on my shoulders. I smile at the comfort it offers when just a year ago, I would’ve shied away from his touch. “Don't worry about it. You keep working with Sam, do what you can to keep my best friend from jumping off the deep, and I'll focus on the leak. Deal?”

  “Deal.” The AC brushes against my hot skin the moment he removes his somewhat sweaty palms. I shoot a nervous glance into the packed ballroom. Immediately my gaze falls on Trey, who has his arm wrapped around Jessica's waist. She's laughing, smiling up at him as he animatedly gestures between himself and another couple.

  “He can't stand her.”

  “I know,” I whisper. “Doesn't make the jealousy go away. We've never even had a date, you know.”

  T remains silent.

  “One day I'd love to be able to show him off, to go out like this with me on his arm.” I fill my lungs with a steadying breath. “You think we can do it? Get the information we need to impeach Kyle?”

  “Honestly,” T says, making me rest my chin on my shoulder to face him, “I think you can pretty much do anything you put your mind to. You're not alone in this town, Randi. Lean on your friends, on the alliances you've already formed. Everything else will fall into place.”

  Turning back to face the room, I step across the threshold. The clinking of glass, the growing chatter, and haughty laughter fill my ears as I shoulder through the crowd in search of Sam.

  “Walmart.”

  I freeze in my tracks. Kyle's soft chest brushes against my shoulder and arm as he moves around, stopping in front of me.

  “Kyle,” I murmur in greeting while fighting to keep the hate from bleeding into my dry tone.<
br />
  “You're here again, with Pierce.”

  “I am. That’s what couples do, isn’t it?”

  “And Benson is here with his new… fiancée.” I fight the instinct to curl my fingers into tight fists. Instead, I clear my throat and plaster the practiced smile across my face. “Does your boyfriend still suspect me of wrongdoing?”

  “Wouldn't know. You really don't come up during sex.”

  Amusement flashes across his face. “Too bad. I might enjoy that.”

  “You're a disgusting pig.”

  “Maybe we could all have some fun together.”

  “Together?” That sounds like a terrible idea. “I’m not really into that kind of thing.”

  “Thanksgiving, you and Pierce come to Camp David with me and Cindy and a few others.” He tips his chin toward a voluptuous blonde. “I must insist.”

  “Must you?”

  “It's not a request, Walmart.”

  I swallow past a dry mouth and throat. “We're not at that point yet. You know, the whole weekend getaway.” I give a nervous laugh, searching the room for Sam, anyone who will help me. “That’s a big step in a relationship.”

  “Again, Walmart, not a request. You want to uphold your contract,” he hisses close so no one else can hear his words, “then you bring that fucker to Camp David. There you'll show him just how much you support and trust me.”

  “Like group trust exercises or something?”

  “Something like that. Plan to be there for lunch and staying the night.”

  I narrow my eyes. “I am not, I repeat, not tossing my keys into a fishbowl to prove my loyalty.”

  His condescending chuckle rakes on my already frayed nerves. Heat builds beneath my skin, making the tight dress even more suffocating than it already was. I sense beads of sweat building along my hairline.

  “Oh, Walmart. You're hilarious. We don't use either.” Ice blue eyes narrow at me, allowing a window into the narcissist that lies within. “We take what we want. Not that you should be worried about that. You're still just as much trailer trash today as you were back then, and people know it. Besides, I have another surprise in mind.”

  “Kyle, I don't—” I call after him as he walks off, disappearing into the crowd.

 

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