A single shoulder rises and falls in a noncommittal shrug. The movement widens the gap of her robe a fraction, exposing more of the soft skin concealed beneath. “No one makes fun of my friends and gets away with it. I'm a bit protective, I guess.”
I smirk. “Ditto, Mess. Which is why today blew the roof off the normal restraint I have on my anger. Hearing him call you… well, you were there. You know what he said.” I tighten my right hand into a fist. “And I couldn't do a damn thing. I knew if I did, it would come back and hurt you. Hell, me being in the room already did some of that. He wouldn't have pressed you, pushed you, if I wasn't there. If I wasn't in the picture at all.”
I huff out a deep breath and look to the ceiling.
“It's always been like this. Between Shawn, Kyle, and me, we've always been at each other’s throats, vying for the upper hand. So what you saw today was all about me and Shawn, about our shit, not you, but I pulled you into it. That pissed me off.”
“Not trying to be a dick here,” she says with a shove to my shoulder, “but that’s really arrogant of you.”
I whip my gaze to where she leans back against the headboard.
“What?”
“Shawn already hated me. He might have found a new angle to push my buttons, but nothing about today started with you. It started the minute he caught me sniffing the wallpaper last year.”
“Um, what?” I chuckle. This woman.
She swipes her hand through the air in dismissal. “All I'm saying is you're taking responsibility for something that isn't yours to take. I knew stepping into this spot, have known since I met Shawn, that he'll use anything and everything he can to bring me down.” Her gaze turns unfocused. “Do you think he'd say something to the media about us? Try to sabotage the campaign even though Kyle's his friend?”
An incredulous chuckle rumbles in my chest. “One hundred percent hell yes. I think he already did.”
Her mouth pops in shock, opening wide.
I can't help the dirty track my mind takes me down at the sight. I swipe my tongue along my lower lip. Oh, the things I want to do to those plump lips.
“You think he came over today with the intention of derailing my focus.”
I nod.
“That motherfucking cuntcake.”
“Always has been.”
Her head thumps against the headboard, her eyes squeezing shut. “Well, he got what he wanted. Tonight was horrible.”
“Well,” I say as I lie back on the bed, tucking both hands beneath my head, “it wasn't great. But it doesn’t mean it's all for not. On the way over here, the various anchors were saying it was a tie. You did good. Not great, but you didn't bomb it like you're thinking you did.”
“That's not what Kyle thinks.” She sighs.
“He's a fucking drama queen, has been his whole life. It's not as bad as you think.” I cut my eyes to meet hers. “But nothing else can happen to derail your focus or shift the attention off your campaign points. You need to get back out there, hit the swing states hard. Remind them that you do know your shit, and you're the one who will have their backs. Remind them of your original platform. You're their voice in DC.”
“Why aren't you my advisor?” she asks, arching both brows in question. “You seem to know a lot about all this.”
“I was raised in this life. My parents wanted me to take a political path, but I didn't. Once I stepped away from it, I saw it for what it was, and I wanted no part of playing the political game the rest of my life. That's when I went into the army. It saved me from being a conniving, miserable fuckstick like everyone else in this town.”
“What did Shawn mean by a media circus, a disastrous relationship?” Gripping the edges of her robe tighter, she slides down the bed, lying at my side, head propped up with an elbow digging into the mattress.
“Ah, that.” I roll to face her, mirroring her pose. “The girl I was dating last year was the purest definition of a power-hungry political pawn.”
“Ah, the person you thought I was at first.” My gaze traces the curve of her lips as they move up her face in a sassy smile. “This mystery woman is the one I can thank for the incorrect judgments you spouted my way.”
“Yep. Something happened, I did something last year that caused our team to be demoted. It was a rough patch, and during that time, she showed her true self. Later on, I learned my parents were in her ear, trying to get her to convince me to step back into the political scene. I was the idiot who went over a year not realizing she was playing me.” Reaching out, I fiddle with the sash of her robe that lays in the small distance between us. “My family is one of the bigger names in politics. More behind the scenes, but they’re the money to a lot that goes on in this city. That's what Rachel wanted. The power that comes with my name, the trust fund. Not me,” I grumble and roll my eyes.
“So she left you because….”
“For Shawn fucking Whit.” Randi's eyes widen to a comical size. “Yep. Apparently even my family name and millions in the bank couldn't cover the embarrassment she felt for being with a demoted Secret Service agent.”
“I hate her.” An evil smirk forms. “Wait. If she's with Shawn… oh, this will be fun.”
Apprehension pulls me back an inch, scanning her face. “What?”
“Don't worry, Trouble.”
“That's not reassuring.” I give the terry cloth belt a hard tug. “What are you planning?”
Randi shrugs and flops back to the bed.
“Oh no you don't.” The bed dips beneath my weight, and a shriek of surprise squeaks past her smiling lips. Hovering over her, I pull my face close, our noses a hairbreadth apart.
Her smile falls, her eyes slipping to focus on my lips. Her heaving chest presses her breasts tighter against me. A moan pushes past my lips, brushing across her face and fogging the lenses of her glasses. Pinching the frames between two fingers, I tug them free and toss them across the bed.
I rake the tips of my fingers through her dark hair, causing her eyes to shutter closed.
Each inch between us is the kind of torture that drives men insane. Her lips pucker, demanding more at the faint brush of my own. The softness of her lips ease the growing ache that’s been building since Shawn interrupted us. I groan into her mouth at the shift of her hips, the spread of her legs beneath me.
“Randi,” I whisper against her lips, then seal mine over hers, needing more. Tugging on her hair, I angle her head to deepen the kiss, taking control of the pace.
Her hands slide between us, gripping the hem of my black T-shirt. I lift up, helping her yank it over my head. Goose bumps spread across my back at her delicate strokes up and down my skin. I move my body against hers, eliciting a moan of pleasure from both our lips.
Sucking on her neck, I then nip beneath her ear. With a flex of my hips, I press my steel-hard cock against her core.
“Oh fuck,” she whispers, squeezing her eyes shut.
The sweet scent of her arousal meets my nose, driving me lower. Gripping the inside edges of her robe, I slowly spread it apart, exposing the bare skin of her chest inch by inch. Her full breasts bounce with each of her sharp inhales. Eyes locked with hers, I lower my lips to a pebbled nipple, flicking the tip of my tongue against it before taking a quick, hard nip. Back arching off the bed, Randi threads her fingers through my hair, pushing her breast into my waiting mouth.
Her body writhes beneath me, each wiggle causing her to press against my cock.
The touch of her fingers at my waistband makes me pull back, dipping my chin to watch. The first few times, the button fails to pop at her demanding fingers, but eventually it gives, and the grind of the zipper lowering catches my breath. Her hand dips in, wrapping around my dick. I thrust into her palm, devouring the sensation of another’s touch when I’ve gone so long without.
Knee to the bed, I press off and stand. Taking in every inch of her near-naked body sprawled across the bed, waiting for me, I toe off my tennis shoes and let my jeans puddle to the flo
or. I hiss in a breath, wrapping a hand around myself and squeezing tight.
“Condom?” she pants.
I nod and retrieve my wallet from my jeans, tugging the condom out and tossing the wallet to the floor. I rip the wrapper up and roll the thin rubber down my hard length.
“Is this what you want?” I ask, giving my cock another hard squeeze. Fuck, this isn't going to last long. It's been way too long, and the building fire between us is on the verge of an all-engulfing inferno.
A flush spreads across her fair cheeks, highlighting her freckles. Biting her lip, she responds with a shaky nod.
I start at her ankles, softly stroking the tips of my fingers up and down her skin, rising higher with each pass. The edges of the robe fall away, pooling at her side.
“This is dangerous,” I mutter to myself. “This changes everything.”
There's no coming back from this, from her.
Ask me if I fucking care.
Chapter Twenty
Randi
I can't breathe. No air will fill my lungs, even though I'm sucking in as much as I can with each short breath.
Holy hotness, the man is like the Italian statues I've seen in textbooks. He's strong but not bulky, lean and toned. Muscles bunch with every move he makes, snapping taut beneath his soft tan skin. A smatter of chest hair covers the space between his pecs, disappearing down his rippled stomach until reappearing just below his navel.
My gaze follows the well-named happy trail, pausing on his thick cock, mesmerized by each tug of his hand up and down his shaft. I lick my lips, desperate to lean forward for a taste. Up and down his hand moves, that damn smirk causing even more dampness to gather between my thighs.
So this is what handsy sex should've been like my whole life.
Or maybe handsy sex is only good with Trouble.
Hmm, need to think that through. Later.
His hands brush up my legs, shoving away the offending scraps of robe that still cover parts of my body. Over my waist, up my chest, lingering to pinch and twist both aching nipples, his hands finally dip beneath my shoulders, tugging the robe lower down my back.
“What the—” His mouth hangs open, eyes wide, focused on my right shoulder. I give it a little wiggle. “You have a tattoo. Tattoos.”
I nod, reaching up and running my fingers across his chest. Touching him is a compulsion; I couldn't stop myself even if I drained every last drop of energy into trying.
He yanks the sleeve of the robe lower. “How far does it go?”
“My elbow.” Reaching down, I wrap my hand around him. “Can we talk about this later?”
Hooded eyes meet mine as I stretch between us, squeezing him tight. Trouble’s lids slam shut as his hips drive forward. The head skims between my folds, grazing my clit.
“Trey,” I whine. I should be embarrassed, but I'm not—at all. This is fucking fantastic and terrible and wonderful all at the same time. The anticipation of what’s to come, the feel of him inside me, is almost too much to contain.
He dips forward, his teeth latching onto a peeked nipple while his tongue flicks furiously, barely connecting and driving me crazy. I slide the rubber-covered tip up and down my slit, teasing myself while arching my chest against his torturous mouth.
He grips my wrist, tugging my hand away. My whimper morphs into a relieved moan as he pushes the first inch of his hard length inside me. He moves in slow, calculated strokes, pulling all the way out before plunging deeper than before.
Sweat beads along his forehead, gathering to drip down his temples.
I moan, but he quickly presses his lips over mine to quiet the sound. A soft, demanding tongue teases mine, caressing and plunging with expert strokes.
Heat crawls beneath my skin, sweat glistening over every inch and slicking the places where our bodies connect.
Taut energy coils in my gut, sending tremors through my legs. My toes curl, digging into the fluffy, suffocating duvet. Hips rocketing off the bed, I match his thrusts, pushing him deeper. With a lust-filled snarl, he grips both hips, lifting them higher, hitting my elusive G-spot.
“Fuck,” I cry out. His palm seals against my lips effectively quieting my curses.
My nostrils flare with each erratic inhale.
“You have to be quiet, baby,” Trey says, his voice rough with need. “Can you do that?”
The duvet slips beneath my hair at my urgent nod.
“Good girl.” His fingers trace down my chin and along my neck before moving lower. The brush of his thumb against my clit shoots bursts of sparkling sensations to each nerve. My teeth sink into the tip of my tongue, the taste of blood filling my mouth.
Then I shatter, every cell exploding in insistent throbs. Forearm pressed against my parted lips, I scream against my skin. The outside world fades to white noise, my intense pleasure dangling me over an empty chasm where nothing but my orgasm exists.
Trouble grunts a curse, his hips thrusting fast and wild.
I huff a forced exhale at the unexpected weight of him falling above me, pressing my entire body into the mattress.
“I know I'm smothering you,” he says into the geometric fabric of the duvet, “but I can't move. Sorry if you die.”
My face splits into a wide smile, my cheeks bunching so tight they ache. I stroke up and down his back, slipping lower to brush across his tight ass.
Everything is perfect, calm.
Tomorrow, I'll fight to regain the traction I lost with the failed debate.
Tomorrow, I fight to win.
Because there's no way in hell I can go back now. Not after tonight. Not after him.
Maybe not ever.
* * *
Could a moment be any more perfect? I trace the outline of his pouty lower lip, brushing the pad of my finger back and forth. The softness of sleep eases the worry lines of his forehead, relaxing the normal intense focus. His neat brow shifts beneath my stroking.
Sunlight hasn’t even begun to peek around the curtains it’s so early, but this being the first night he's slept over, I can't find it in me to waste a minute of it sleeping. The past couple weeks of us finding time alone and keeping T's suspicions at bay have been a well-coordinated dance. But even then, moments like this are few and far between.
I trace the shell of his ear, shifting a lock of brown hair to tuck it back.
I've worked my ass off since the disastrous debate. Flying across the country, visiting state after state, trying to raise our poll numbers. And it's working. Our ranking, once steady, now rises with each preliminary poll. Which means we still have a shot to win.
T and Trey are at my side each step of the way, always encouraging and keeping me on point. The whole team has been, really. We've grown close, forming a familial bond since they saved my life two months ago. I'm not ready for that to stop.
I inhale a shaky breath and burrow deeper into the cloud-like pillow.
I'm not ready for any of this to end. It's exhausting, yes, and more work than I expected, but the relationships, the friendships I've built here, I’m not ready to give up. Not yet. It feels like we're all on the verge of something great, something bigger than all of us.
We have to win.
“What are you doing?” Trey mutters into the mattress.
Who sleeps without a pillow?
“Early voting starts today,” I whisper into the darkness. Bits of light stream around the blackout curtains. “It's not that early. Look, the sun is starting to come out.”
“Tell the sun to hit Snooze. It's my day off.” Without opening his eyes, he shifts on the bed, turning his head from my ministrations. “This was not part of the deal of me staying over.”
The bed shakes as I silently laugh. There was no deal. Last night, after he pinned me to the wall and had his way with me—three times—I asked him to stay, so he did.
“What time is it, anyway?” His grumbled voice is barely loud enough for me to hear.
I roll to my side and crane my neck back. “Would you
believe me if I said close to five?”
The bed shifts as Trey rises up to his elbows, a pointed sleepy-eyed glare directed at me. “That's only four hours of sleep.”
I purse my lips to keep from correcting him.
“Randi.” His tone is frustrated. “Please tell me you've slept.”
“An hour or two,” I say with a shrug. “It's normal for me. I can't sleep when I'm stressed.”
“You don't eat and you don't sleep.” His hair falls across his forehead with the shake of his head. “Randi, that's not healthy or sustainable. When you're VP, you have to take better care of yourself.” When, not if. I like that. “Tank and I try to help you manage it the best we can, but you have to put in some effort too. We can't make you sleep.”
“I know, and I appreciate you and T for all that you do for me. I really do.” Flipping to my stomach, I stare at the tufted headboard. “It’s just that I've done this life stuff on my own for so long, you know. If we win, I'll get some help, I promise. Maybe a secretary or something; that way all the reminding and babysitting doesn't fall on the team.”
“First of all, when you win, not if.” I fight the smile trying to spread up my cheeks. “Second, you will need help. You won't be able to do it all on your own like you've done everything else. No one can handle that kind of pressure, understand?”
I roll my head, flopping it to the side to watch him.
“I understand.” Reaching up, I trace the underside of his jaw, the morning stubble scraping my finger. “I'll figure it out. I always do.” I bite my lip, nervous energy building beneath my skin, flashing heat through my body. “Trey?” I swallow and look over his shoulder, avoiding those knowing brown eyes. “What will happen, with us after the election?” The shake in my voice is proof of the emotions swirling around that single question.
He presses a callused palm to my cheek, swiping his thumb across my cheekbone, sending a shiver racing down my spine. I pull back to meet his gaze.
Power Play: Power Play Series Book 1 Page 18