Mr. President - A Hot Romance (Mr Series - Book #8)

by Ivy Jordan

  “Your ex-wife made some horrible claims about your infidelity,” I reminded him.

  “All of which were untrue, and unproven,” he pointed out.

  I’d worked closely with him during his campaign to clear his name, and I truly believed he was honest. His wife had divorced him, leaving him for another man, only to be angered when he ran for office. She’d always pushed him to run, but he wanted to start a family instead, and she refused. I knew the thought of him in office, possibly with a new first lady, made her sick, and all she wanted to do was ruin his chances.

  “She made up names; we proved that, you proved that,” he insisted.

  “I know that, and you know that. But the people never completely forget the claims, and something like this could make them bring it back up,” I argued.

  I was right. He knew I was right.

  He moved toward me again, this time slowly and seductively. I knew what he was going to do, and even though I thought it was wrong, I didn’t stop him.

  The taste of his tongue tangled around mine, the sensation of his hands caressing my curves was deliciously wicked, even more so knowing it was wrong.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling away.

  His eyes were filled with pain and hunger. “I just need to prove myself,” I said quickly. “You’re right. You’re always right. That’s why you’re here,” he assured me with a smile.

  My eyes glanced toward his package, noticing the bulge between his legs, and my gaze lingered to trace the outline of his cock beneath the thin trousers he wore. I’d remember the shape, the girth, and later that night I’d find a toy that matched to ease my sexual angst.

  “Did you get settled in here in Washington?” he asked, painfully trying to change the topic of ‘us’ to anything else.

  “Not entirely. I’m staying with Rowena,” I replied.

  His face softened, “How is she?”

  “She’s great. Cancer-free, and actually on a mini vacation right now at a spa in Virginia Beach,” I boasted.

  “So, you’re all alone tonight?” he asked softly.

  My pussy pressed hard against my panties as the silk material clung to my swollen lips. I knew what he was after, and I wasn’t in any condition to fight him off. “Yes. All week,” I stated, trying not to show my eagerness.

  “Does she still live in Foggy Bottom?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “I visited her not too long ago,” he said with a quick smile.

  A knock on the door ended our conversation. When it opened at Adam’s request, it was Michael, staring at me with a wild glare. “Vice President Phillips is waiting, Mr. President,” he said, not taking his eyes from mine.

  “I’ll be right there,” Adam said, immediately putting his game face back on.

  I gripped my bag and moved toward the door, startled to see Michael just outside, leaning against the wall.

  “Your lipstick is smeared,” he said softly.

  I quickly pulled a compact mirror from my purse and used it to correct the obvious issue.

  “You need to be careful. If anyone knows how ugly these things can get in the media, it should be you,” he warned.

  “It’s not what you think,” I defended, knowing it was useless.

  “I think you need to fix your lipstick, adjust your skirt, and button your blouse,” he said with a strangely friendly smirk.

  “Fuck,” I mumbled under my breath as I did what Michael suggested. I knew how this looked: exactly like what it was.

  “If it gets out that you and the president are having… whatever it is you’re having, his time here will be spent focusing on damage control of his image rather than our country,” he warned.

  “We aren’t having anything,” I snapped, buttoning my top button of my blouse and feeling the suffocation take hold.

  Were we?

  Chapter Four

  “How was your day?” Rowena asked.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be relaxing?” I laughed.

  I fell onto her fluffy white couch with my phone held tightly to my ear. It felt good to hear her voice, but I was grateful she wasn’t there to eye me up. One look and she’d know what I’d done.

  “I am relaxing. I’m in a mud bath right now, actually,” she said calmly.

  “My day was as expected. I got lost, found out there’s no training, and I’m already a week behind on the workload they gave me,” I groaned.

  “Wow. So, they just threw you to the wolves, eh? Either they trust you or they’re testing you,” she laughed.

  I knew the correct response, but I didn’t say anything. “I’ll let you get back to your soak. I have to go through a mountain of papers to create an event schedule for Adam,” I explained.

  “Adam? Do you call him that in public?” she asked.

  “No. Of course not. I call him hot pants,” I giggled and hung up the phone.

  There was no activity on my phone as I looked at the screen. Adam had said he knew where Rowena lived, but there was no way he’d show up here. Was there?

  I took a long, hot shower, hoping to wash away my sexual tension. But the streams of water flicking against my nipples and rolling between my legs just made me more frustrated.

  My body craved Adam’s touch, not my own. My fingers lingered between my pussy lips, slowly rolling back and forth to part them. My juices were slippery, sliding my fingers inside my tight hole without effort.

  I moaned, trying to imagine it was Adam who was playfully teasing my pussy. My eyes closed, and I remembered the outline of his cock, thick and hard. I pushed my fingers deep inside of me, two, and then three, but couldn’t satisfy the ache deep in my body.

  My juices clung to my fingers as I pulled them from inside of me, letting them push against my swollen clit. The friction made my legs weaken and my lips part. The water rolled down my body, teasing my skin, flicking at my nipples like tiny hard tongues, and sliding down my back like a soft hand.

  Waves of pleasure rolled through my body, pushing between my legs like a wild storm. My legs tightened together against my hand, my ass rested against the tile of the shower wall, and my orgasm released into a delicious, thunderous throb against my fingers.

  The ache was still there, tamed, but not gone. I slipped into a pair of red, plaid sleep pants and a white tank top, and wrapped the towel around my head like a turban. The mountain of paperwork glared at me on Rowena’s dining room table. Might as well get some work done.

  I selected an Air Show, a Special Olympics ceremony, and a triathlon for MS as my solid choices for Adam’s schedule, and was pondering between the other ‘maybes’ I’d stacked and sorted when my phone buzzed.

  It was after midnight when I picked it up to see a text from Adam.

  Adam: Open your door

  I didn’t bother replying; instead, I rushed to the door, and peeked out the peep hole.

  The two Secret Servicemen that followed Adam were standing on Rowena’s front stoop. I opened the door and they parted, revealing Adam in jeans, a t-shirt, and a baseball cap. “What are you doing here?” I gasped, quickly reaching for his arm and pulling him inside.

  “I had to see you,” he explained.

  Instantly, my body reacted with swelling, pulsations, and tingles in spots I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt come alive before. “What if someone has seen you?” I growled.

  He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “You’re worth it. To see you, like this, it’s worth it,” he said, his eyes moving upward and above my head.

  Oh God! I still had a towel on my freakin’ head. I ripped it off, shaking my long, sandy-blonde hair out to fluff it up.

  His hands were quickly on my hips, his mouth on mine, and his tongue warm and wild against mine. My craving returned in full force with a new, stronger hunger than before. My body rolled into his, pressing my breasts against his hard chest, and my pelvis into his thigh. He drove me wild, made me lose control. This couldn’t happen.

  “No,” I gasped, pulling from ou
r passionate embrace.

  “You don’t want this?” he asked.

  I couldn’t deny my attraction. “I do want it,” I gasped, trying to catch my breath.

  Adam pulled me back into him, letting his mouth slide down my neck to the top of my breasts.

  My nipples pushed hard against the material of the tank top, begging for attention. Adam quickly obliged my body’s pleading and covered my left breast with his mouth, sucking in my flesh through the thin material.

  His tongue flicked at my nipple, and then his teeth clamped against it, tugging gently until I moaned.

  “Adam. We can’t do this,” I insisted, pulling back away.

  “I’m the president. I can do whatever I want. You can do whatever you want,” he said.

  “I wish it were that easy,” I admitted, feeling my juices slide from my pussy and down my inner thigh.

  His cock pushed hard against the denim, begging to be released and pleasured. My mouth watered at the thought of taking him into my mouth, tasting him, pleasing him. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked softly.

  “No. But I think you have to,” I said remorsefully.

  “This can be great. It will be great,” he said with a smile.

  “One of us will end up the bad guy, and if it’s me, it’d ruin my career,” I argued.

  “I think the American people would love to see me with you,” he insisted.

  “Maybe so, but they may not,” I said.

  “I’m not giving up, Quinn,” he said with a grin.

  He pulled me in one last time, kissing me softly on the lips, and then the neck. “Damn, you’re sexy,” he growled, biting me gently on the top of my breast.

  He stepped back, took a long look at me, lingering on my eyes for what felt like an eternity. “No. I won’t give up,” he assured me, and then turned to let himself out Rowena’s front door.

  I missed him already.

  Chapter Five

  The mug in my hand was warm and soothing, and the hot java inside it was the jolt I needed to start my day. I hadn’t slept, not after Adam had left. My mind was frazzled, and my body tortured with sexual tension.

  My phone beeped, alerting me that my driver had arrived. I stuffed the papers I’d been working on into my briefcase, slipped on my black jacket over my deep-blue blouse, and rushed out the front door.

  “Good morning, Ms. Hamilton,” the driver greeted me as he held open the back door.

  “Good morning, Lou,” I smiled.

  He was my regular driver since I’d arrived, a kind man with a round belly, a pudgy nose, and warm smile. I slipped into the backseat, immediately pulling out my mirror and checking my face and hair as he drove me to the White House, to Adam.

  “Do you have the schedule?” Michael asked with urgency as I walked into the overwhelming foyer.

  “Yes. I finished it up last night,” I replied, pulling the final copy from my bag.

  He gripped the paper, glanced quickly at the itinerary I’d created, and pursed his lips together. “A triathlon?” he asked with disapproval in his tone.

  “Yes. Adam used to race all the time,” I insisted.

  “Used to,” he said, his eyebrows lifting.

  “I know he is still in amazing shape. It is for charity, and the American people need to see his strength so they can truly embrace the younger president,” I pushed.

  He nodded, seemingly agreeing with my decision, and motioned for me to follow as he headed down the long hall.

  “The president needs to approve this right away,” he said, walking the familiar path towards the oval office.

  I’d taken Adam’s advice and created a cheat sheet, complete with maps for the White House, and directions to get to all the important areas for which I had access.

  “Mr. President?” Michael knocked and announced his arrival as he opened the Oval Office door.

  “Yes. Come in,” Adam said, motioning for us to enter.

  The two Secret Service men that stood outside the office door were the same ones that escorted Adam to Rowena’s house the night before.

  My cheeks blushed with heat as my eyes struggled to avoid contact. Neither of the men even looked my way, trained to stay out of any personal affairs, I presumed.

  “The final schedule is ready for your approval,” Michael said, neglecting to give me any credit for its creation.

  It was awkward facing Adam, but he continued with complete professionalism. . “Let me take a look,” he said, taking the paper from Michael and offering me a quick glance.

  His smile was warm, but not flirty, easing my anxiety. “Wow, this looks like a pretty good mix,” he said, and then turned his attention to me. “This is your work?” he asked, but offered a tone that said he already knew it was.

  “Yes,” I agreed, smiling just enough to be polite, but not to show any signs of my giddiness.

  I could still taste his sweet kiss on my lips, and feel his tight grip on my ass. Stop it, Quinn!

  “It looks like I’ll be traveling for a couple of these events. Can you clear your schedule?” he asked, looking directly at me.

  His voice was filled with authority and strength, and nowhere on his expression could I see the desire, passion, and desperation he’d shown me just hours ago.

  “Yes, Mr. President,” I agreed, keeping the same professional tone.

  Michael’s eyes were on me; I could feel them without even having to look in his direction. My nerves were shaken as I remembered him finding me in such bad shape after our first make-out session.

  “Thank you, Ms. Hamilton, Michael,” Adam said quickly.

  The door to the Oval Office opened to reveal the VP and the two Secret Service men. Michael turned to leave, motioning for me to follow.

  It was a relief to be out of the office, away from Adam and out of Michael’s judging eyes. “Great job,” Michael said, surprising me by his kindness.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “It’s good that you know him so well. That’s already proven to be valuable with the first round of PR events,” he smiled.

  Wow. Michael Guidry complimented me.

  The rest of my day was spent with the press secretary. We discussed the mood of the people, which was fortunately mostly good. There were still questions about Adam’s divorce, and allegations his ex-wife had made before he ran for office. “You were the one closest to him during that time. And from what I understand, the one who helped clear it up,” Guy Louvre, the press secretary, stated matter-of-factly.

  “It was not so much cleared up as it was never proven,” I pointed out.

  “A single POTUS is always a struggle to keep in a good light,” Guy said. “A divorced one with a jilted, vindictive, and angry ex-wife is even harder to keep in the good graces of the people,” he added.

  “What’s your plan?” I asked, hoping that we could work together to keep Adam looking confident and worthy until he had been given enough time to prove himself.

  “Find him a woman,” Guy chuckled.

  I swallowed hard. “I think it’s not wise to have him date so soon in office,” I argued, feeling a trace of jealousy flow through my veins.

  “It’s just always easier to show the soft side of a POTUS when there is a first lady involved,” Guy insisted.

  I couldn’t agree with him more from a PR standpoint, but I knew I wanted to be that woman, and that for me—for us—now wasn’t the time.

  “There are plenty of amazing qualities that we can focus on,” I assured him.

  “I’ll leave that to you then,” Guy said, sounding defeated, but not convinced I was making the right decision.

  I glanced over his notes, changing a few comments about the scandal surrounding Adam’s ex-wife. “Stick to the facts. We know she’s lying, but we have no proof, nothing solid to make her this vindictive person she’s proven to be,” I stated.

  “But we need to explain Adam’s side,” he argued.

  “No, we don’t. Simply say there was never any pro
of to her allegations, and even though she was given every opportunity to provide names of the women she claimed to know had relations with her husband at the time, she never followed through. The president has always maintained his innocence in these allegations, and the court documents from their divorce have been made public and show no allegations that match what has since been said by the former Mrs. Andrews,” I spouted off quickly.

  He nodded, jotted down what I said, and disappeared into his office to make his final draft for my approval.

  Adam flew to Texas with the VP, one of the states he’d lost in the race. I’d created a list of things for him to say, not to say, and even what to wear while he visited. I was both excited and nervous to spend the few minutes alone with him in the Oval Office to brief him on my notes. “Do you have the notes?” Michael asked.

  I pulled the folder from my briefcase and handed them to him, assuming he’d offer for me to tag along to deliver them.

  He glanced over them, chuckling as he read. “Wow, you didn’t leave anything out, did you?”

  “No. I think it’s best to give as much detail as possible,” I smiled.

  “I’ll deliver these now. Why don’t you head home?” Michael suggested.

  “There are still a few things I’d like to go over, and of course, if he has any questions—” I said, cut off by Michael’s interruption.

  “I think this is more than enough. If he has questions, I’ll contact you,” he said with a stern smile.

  I knew my face expressed my disappointment with my mouth parted, my eyes narrowed, and my jaw clenched tightly. Michael didn’t seem to notice, or care. “Have a good weekend, Quinn,” he said, and then turned to walk away.

  Rowena sat on the back deck, sipping a glass of wine and thumbing through a magazine. “How was work?” she asked as I stepped outside.

  “I love it,” I said excitedly.

  She rolled her eyes and gave a small chuckle at my over-acting. She knew me well enough to know that I couldn’t possibly be that excited over my glorified babysitter-secretary position.