Part 4 (2/2)
All of this place. This room.
He smiles a little. ”Welcome home, beautiful.”
I swallow. I laugh, aware of his eyes sort of quietly, intensely caressing me. ”This room is bigger than I imagined.”
He just smiles at me, motioning to the sitting area. I follow and sit across from him, licking my lips nervously.
”I'm so happy to see Carlisle and Hessler. I thought you'd ask Carlisle to be your chief of staff?” I breathe.
”I did. He declined due to health. Besides, he likes campaigning. He wants to be ready in four years when we run again.” His voice so close is soothing, yet quietly arousing, too. ”He's part of my kitchen cabinet-him, Beckett, and Hessler.”
”Hessler won't be joining you either?”
”He wanted experience before attacking the position of chief of staff himself. They both seem more inclined to be ready for when I run again in four years.” There's a trace of laughter in his voice. ”I know-seems so far away. But that's the way their minds are working.”
”How do you feel, Matthew?”
”Ready. I'm ready.” His expression stills and grows serious, and he glances around the Oval, at the George Was.h.i.+ngton portrait, then at me. ”I'm making big changes and it's going to take time, but I'm getting them done no matter what I have to do.” He frowns, his eyes level under drawn brows. ”How do you feel?”
”Scared. Happy. Scared,” I repeat, laughing. Then I shrug, and meet his watchful, intent gaze. ”I couldn't sleep, thinking of this opportunity. I want to open the White House a bit more, for citizens to experience it in a different way, not just as a museum they walk into. I'd like to do things for women and children, too.”
”Do it,” he says, no questions asked.
”Okay. I will.” I exhale, smiling. ”I'm excited. So many things I want to do, I don't know where to start.”
”Are you all right so far? Do you need anything?”
I shake my head. ”All this is so much more than I need.”
”I want you to feel at home.”
”I'm trying.” I shoot him an honest smile. ”I don't want to make a mistake when it's simply too easy to make one . . . All this is too new. So I'll just take it one day at a time.”
Matt smiles. ”When you love something as much as you love our country, you take care of it-you do anything for it. I have no doubt in my mind I've picked the right first lady.”
I'm flus.h.i.+ng. Head to toe.
He sets his elbows on his knees as he s.h.i.+fts forward. ”I hope you know, baby, asking you to act as first lady is not only an excuse for me to see you. I believe you have a lot to offer our citizens. Regardless of our relations.h.i.+p, I want you to have a salary, and you will be directly compensated for your time by me,” Matt says.
”What? I couldn't possibly.” I shake my head. ”I don't want a salary.”
”Everyone working here has a salary-except the first lady. Is that fair?” He grins.
”I wasn't elected to office.”
”Not everyone here was elected.”
I look around, awed by the sumptuous surroundings, the plush upholstered couch beneath me, and I glance at Matt. ”I get to do what I most want, sleep safe in the grandest home in the land,” close to you, I don't add. ”I don't want a salary. If you insist, then we can donate it to Women of the World, help women who can't find jobs get on their feet.”
”All right then.” He smiles his mercurial smile, one that makes his chiseled face look even more handsome.
I wring my hands. ”I never slept with you to get a position in the White House.”
”I know. I need trustworthy people on my team, and I trust you.”
”Thank you, Mr. President.”
”Matt,” he says softly.
I smile, but I can't say it.
”I rather like the sound of Mr. President on your lips.” His smile curves a bit more. ”But I miss hearing you say my name.”
”Don't,” I whisper. ”Matt.”
”Come here, baby.” He pats his side.
I swallow, rising to my feet and crossing the room to take a seat beside him.
He reaches out and slips his fingers into the fall of my hair at the back of my neck, seizing me gently as his dark gaze holds mine in its grip, his forehead to mine. ”I'll give you time to get used to all this, but I want to make it clear that you're still mine. You never stopped being mine, and you never will,” he says.
A promise.
A promise I'm afraid to believe for fear of losing him-never really having him, like before.
I inhale deeply, breathing him in, letting everything Matt surround me, when I feel him tug me closer and brush my lips with his.
I gasp, and Matt flicks his tongue out to taste me.
I groan. Matt groans too and slides his arm around me, taking my mouth fiercely. He pours every ounce of fire into that kiss-his lips the flame, his tongue the accelerant, and I feel the burn. I feel the burn at the tips of my nipples, my fingers, my toes. At the center of my being.
I'm breathing in fast, shallow breaths when we ease apart. ”What are we doing here?” I ask, breathless.
He frowns. ”Are you asking me or are you asking yourself?”
”Myself. I think. Because I can't stay away from you.”
”I can't stay away from you either.”
”We said slow.”
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