“Yes, I agree. You do deserve to have it all, and I believe I can give it to you.”
“Oh, is that right?” she countered. “And just how are you going to give me the love you don’t feel?”
“By taking you upstairs to my room in this hotel, named after President Thomas Jefferson, and making love to you until you can’t remember your own name, the name of any president who has ever served this fine nation, let alone that idiot who broke your heart two months ago. Reese, if you just let me love you, then I know I will feel it.”
“So, let me get this right. You’re saying if I go upstairs with you, and we spend the night in your bed doing all of those things that lovers do together when they are naked and in bed, you believe you will feel differently about me than you have in the past?”
“Definitely.” My brain (cock) heard the words “naked” and “bed” in the same sentence sail off her tongue and stopped listening at that point.
“And this magical transformation will happen exactly when, Gray?”
“When I’m buried inside you and can see into your pretty green-gold eyes as you’re coming all over my cock.” Shit. I just said that out loud I think.
“Yes, you did,” she answered as she stood up from the table. “Get us another bottle of wine, please.”
I stared up at her with an equal measure of confusion and fear. She was either saying yes to the sex, or planning my death with a broken bottle to the throat. Maybe both.
Wasn’t sure.
Didn’t care.
Reese found my indecision comical, because she had to bite down on her bottom lip to suppress the laughter I could clearly see behind her eyes.
“I’m ready whenever you are, so hurry up.”
I followed her out of the restaurant like a starved dog after a platter of steaks. I’m sure anyone who saw me with her would’ve confirmed this, but thankfully it was a hot August night in DC, and The Jefferson just happened to be very quiet. We saw no one. This could have been because I was incapable of seeing anyone else in the room once Reese agreed to my suggestion we go on upstairs to my suite and work this controversy out while naked and horizontal in my bed. Although, naked and vertical would also work for me just fine.
When we stepped inside the elevator, I wasted no time backing her into the corner, the freedom to press myself against her and experience what her body felt like beneath mine, no longer a fantasy.
She was soft.
I was so fucking hard.
She smelled so good.
I was intoxicated by her scent.
“I do wish you would kiss me,” she said, her eyes focusing on my lips.
Some faint sliver of caution had hung on in my conscious mind to wait until we were behind the closed door of my suite—which was a very good thing. Because in walked the Secretary of State and the Speaker of the House to ride in the elevator with us up to the top.
Now, I don’t claim to be an expert on sociology by any means, but I had enough brain matter firing up in my dome to understand the image of the State Attorney General, grandson of President Grayson T. Lash, dry-humping the great-great-granddaughter of President Theodore Pinkarver, in the elevator at The Jefferson, would not ride silently into the sunset.
“Ahh, I thought that was you, Mr. Lash,” Secretary Carlin said.
“Madam Secretary, Madam Speaker, hello. How are you ladies this evening?” I offered my hand to each of them in turn; praying to God my jacket covered the indecent display putting on a show behind my fly. Fuck me.
“Is that little Reese Pinkarver all grown up, you are guarding in the corner, Mr. Lash?” Speaker Morris asked while eyeing the wine bottle in my other hand.
Reese giggled from behind me and gave a friendly wave. “Yes, it’s me, Madam Speaker. Gray has taken me to dinner, and now he’s invited me up to his suite so we can have some really good se—”
“Some—good talk—ahh…Reese and I are talking about our plans for the immediate future.”
I’d stopped Reese from sharing the real plans for our immediate future—defiling each other in my bed over the next three hours or so—but I only stopped her from sharing those plans out loud. Anybody could connect the dots.
Oh, that sounded bad.
Worse than bad was a lot more accurate of just how I had sounded in my pathetic attempt to converse politely with Speaker Olivia Morris.
So, I topped off my “worse than bad” with a little shot of “stupid fucking moron” by asking, “What are you ladies up to tonight?”
Audra Carlin, Secretary of State of the United States of America, shot me a quick wink. “Nothing we can discuss, Mr. Lash, but I assure you it’s not as interesting as whatever you have planned with Ms. Pinkarver this evening.”
Chapter Seven GRAY
Reese was still giggling as we burst out of the stairwell that opened up into the hallway leading to my suite. Our encounter with two of the nation’s highest ranking public servants inspired us to get off the elevator and take the stairs the rest of the way.
It crossed my mind that she’d had a little too much to drink for what we were about to do, but the part of me that wanted her so badly just couldn’t stop from taking what she was offering. There was no more ability for rational thinking on my part. Nothing left in me to steer us in another direction.
The sound of the door shutting behind us worked like a signal for me. I was on her the second the wine was abandoned on an entryway table. With two free hands I could touch and feel her properly—and keep my promise to make her forget her name.
She lifted her lips, offering them so sweetly it
