14
Camilla
Merritt and I continued seeing each other in secrecy. Several days had passed since the night at my place when we made the decision to keep our relationship secret, but it didn’t get any easier. I was seeing him at work all the time, and it hurt almost physically not being able to cross the distance between us and show the world that we were together.
Then there were moments when he was surrounded with secretaries or female assistants. It was as clear as day they were attracted to him, their huge, lustful eyes following him wherever he went. The rumors around the office didn’t stop, saying he was seen making out with some girl in the bar or escorting them out of his place. Merritt was quick to reassure me that they were just that—rumors—and even though I believed him, hearing all those lies wasn’t any easier.
A couple days ago, Megan was close to discovering our secret. Merritt came to my boss’s office, passing next to our office. My eyes glued to him and followed his every step, my lips parting when he returned my stare, which caused my heart to skip a few beats.
I hadn’t even noticed Megan staring at me instead, noticing there was something unusual between us.
“Do you like him?” she asked out of the blue, taking me completely by surprise.
“No! Of course not.” That sounded so unconvincing that it was no wonder her eyes narrowed in response. The blush on my cheeks made things even more difficult for me.
“Right,” she replied. “And the ‘fuck me’ look you had on your face now was also just my imagination, right?”
I gaped at her. We were close, closer than I was with my other coworkers, but not close enough for this type of conversation. We didn’t talk about men. “Megan,” I said, my voice carrying a warning. “It’s not like that at all. I highly respect Senator Dawson and his work as a congressman, but there is nothing beyond that.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Sorry. It just seemed that way. I guess I was wrong.”
She didn’t push this subject anymore, but I made sure not to look at Merritt on his way out of my boss’s office. I didn’t want to attract any more unnecessary attention.
Yesterday, I was close to blowing up our cover again. One of the assistants was talking to him in the hall when she placed her hand on his shoulder. She leaned closer to him, pretending to inspect the documents he was showing to her, but he stepped away from her before I could react and remove her hand off his shoulder.
We’d been seeing each other at our places, but it wasn’t as often as I’d hoped for since both of us were too busy with our jobs. Merritt had had to attend dinners with other congressmen these past few days, so we hadn’t been able to meet. And each time we met, I made sure to use the backdoor exit when leaving his place, wearing a hat and sunglasses that hid me, and the same went for him. It was a annoying, but it had to be done.
A week after we started “dating”, Merritt said he was going to make me dinner. I was pretty much excited about it because men who cooked were my weakness, especially since I was a terrible cook. So I had dressed in a white flowery dress, put on high heel pumps, and braided my hair, counting minutes until I could finally see him.
His lips met mine the moment he opened the door. I wrapped my hands around his neck and let him pick me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. He closed the door with his leg and pressed me against it, kissing me like he hadn’t done it in ages.
“I missed you so much,” he said into my lips.
“I missed you too. You’re one busy man, Mr. Congressman.”
“The ‘perk’ of being a congressman,” his words were heavy with sarcasm. “It’s been three days, but it feels like so much longer.” Our mouths connected again, but this time the kiss was sweet and languid, and it filled me with euphoria.
“When I saw you in that skirt today… You were walking down the hallway in front of me and I couldn’t stop staring at your ass.” His hand stroked my butt, coming so close to my pulsating mound. “And I wasn’t the only one doing that. I’ve noticed my colleagues gawk at you as if they haven’t seen a woman in a while.”
I chuckled and bit his lower lip. “Maybe they actually haven’t. They are all up to their neck in work.”
“Tell me about it.” He let me down. “I’m so busy these days that I could barely catch a few hours of sleep altogether.”
“I’m sorry.” I rubbed his upper arm and went to my tip-toes to kiss his forehead. This explained the dark circles underneath his eyes and other visible signs of exhaustion on his face. “Try to take it easy and make sure you don’t overdo it.”
He smirked.
“What?”
“I like to see you this worried.”
I rolled my eyes at him and followed him into the kitchen. “Mmm, it smells delicious! I already know it’s going to be great.”
He’d made pastas with various sauces and salads, which was a mouth-watering sight. My stomach rumbled in response, my legs quick to carry me to the table. Merritt was casting me an amused smile, following me with his glimmering eyes.
“It’s not going to run away, you know?” he teased me.
“I know, but I’m impatient.”
He pulled the chair for me to sit and kissed me on the back of my head when I took a seat.
“You look gorgeous,” he said into my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
“Why, thank you.”
“You always do.” He poured us wine and sat across from me. “To many more moments like this.”
“Cheers.”
We clinked our glasses, never looking away from each other. I put pasta with marinara sauce into my plate, salivating at how good it all looked and smelled. I took a huge swallow.
“Mmm.” Closing my eyes, I reveled in the rich taste. “It’s so good.”
He didn’t say anything, and when I opened my eyes, I found him staring at me like enchanted.
“You have no idea how sexy you look right now. As if you’re having an orgasm.”
I winked at him. “More like a food orgasm. But now stop staring at me and eat!”
He snorted and filled his plate with pasta with mushrooms. “Yes, boss.”
I continued moaning as I munched, enjoying his meal too much. “This is amazing. So delicious. Your cooking skills put mine to shame.”
“You don’t cook well?”
“Not at all. My cooking is a disaster. Actually, it’s perfect if you want to poison someone.” He laughed loudly, shaking his head at me.
“You don’t say.”
“True. My mother teases me all the time, saying I’m never going to get married if I don’t learn how to cook. But I’m hopeless since whenever I try to get serious and cook something other than a plain soup, I manage to mess something up. So I gave up and accepted that it’s better for me to be as far away from the stove as possible.”
“So how do you manage to survive? Don’t tell me, you only drink water?”
My laughed matched his. “I usually zap ready-made dishes or go to a restaurant. These days, our cafeteria at work does the job at keeping me well-fed. How about you? You learned from your mom, right? I remember her having a book or something when you moved to town.”
“It’s a bit more than that. My mother is a famous chef.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. She even has her own cooking show that is broadcasted on cable TV each week.”
“Wow. That’s so cool.”
“So it was a must for me to learn how to cook too. She kept saying that I can’t rely on my wife to cook for me and that I have to do it on my own.” He rolled his eyes. “She drilled this into me during my junior high years until I gave in to her and finally learned how to cook. That was before we moved.”
“Sorry. It’s sounds like you didn’t like it at all.
“Don’t be. And yes, at first I was like, this is boring, blah, blah, blah, but I grew to love it. Now it’s my favorite pastime.”
“Cooking?”
“Yes. I like experimenting and creating new dishes.”
“What are your favorite dishes? Italian?”
“Yes. I love everything about Italian cuisine. And you?”
“I love seafood. We didn’t eat seafood much when I was a teenager since my mom is allergic to it, but as I grew older, I made sure to eat it as often as I can.”
I took a sip of my wine before I took another bite of my pasta. “I guess I’m lucky that my mother didn’t pressure me to learn to cook. She probably didn’t want my poisoning people on her conscious.”
“And here I was, actually planning to suggest I teach you how to cook.”
“Thanks, but no. As much as I appreciate it, it would only be a waste of your time. Sorry.”
He shrugged his shoulders and reached for my hand across the table. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m going to be cooking for us both, right?”
I gasped, his words stealing the air out of my lungs. The way he worded it sounded like we were in for a long ride here, and I felt conflicted. A part of me was elated. Another part of me was scared.
It seemed that he understood my struggle since he was quick to reassure me. “We’re making baby steps, Camilla. We won’t rush this.”
“And what about Carter, when are you going to talk to him?” I felt like I should be the one to tell my brother the truth.
“I need to handle it. And soon. I don’t want this to be on you, I don’t want you to hurt your relationship with your brother.”
I tilted my head to the side, returning his smile. “You’re so sweet, you know that?”
“Of course I am.”
“And there it is. His huge ego.”
“That’s not the only thing that is huge.”
My cheeks reddened. I remembered the last time we were under the sheets. I was still amazed at his skills in bed.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m thinking about, Merritt Dawson.”
His devilish smile grew big. “I know. But I want to hear it.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Oh, so you want to play that game?”
“I’m ready for it.”
“Are you, now?” I leaned against the table and ran my finger over the edge of my glass. I licked my lips and narrowed my gaze. “I’m thinking about you fucking me right on this table. Your fingers are deep in my pussy, and I’m so wet that I’m making a mess out of your table.”
His gaze was instantly darkened, his lips parting as his breathing grew faster. This was working.
“I grab your head and press it against my pussy. I’m so damn wet.” I moved my chair backward and spread my legs, bringing my hand underneath my dress and over my mound. I moaned when my fingers connected with my swollen lips over my panties, which were already wet from my juices. I threw my head backward and moaned, closing my eyes.
“I’m grinding against your face and I’m coming so hard that you can’t take it anymore. You—”
He interrupted me when he pulled me suddenly off the chair and into the air, bringing me to the table. He dropped me on the hard surface and smashed his lips against mine, grinding against me. He felt hot, just like my own body, and I succumbed to our desire.
“I guess we won’t be eating more of your delicious food.”
“Fuck that now.” He didn’t let me reply, kissing me fervently again as his hand worked its way under my dress and undies. “I’m going to eat you.”
Well then, I was perfectly fine with skipping dinner.