MEETING
Charlotte
It’s midnight.
So why is there a knock on the door?
Matt.
The name sort of blooms in my mind and suddenly, deep in my stomach and in my chest cavity, hope is kicking and leaping and screaming as I pull a robe over me, tie the sash, and hurry to open the door.
Be Matt.
Be Matt.
Wilson stands on the other side. “He wants to see you.” He scans my room over my shoulder. “Alone.”
Oh. God.
Ten.
It’s been ten days since he said he wanted me.
I wondered when the day would come. I’d even started to believe it might not ever happen.
But now Wilson is at my door. Saying Matt wants to see me.
I don’t even know what to expect of this meeting. He could very well want nothing but to brainstorm—or to maybe tell me it’s a bad idea, now that he’s had time to reflect on it.
He’d be right. So right.
So I try to calm down my reckless desire for Matt Heavenly Kisser Hamilton and I prepare for a professional meeting—notebook in hand, ready to record any ideas or changes. Even though Wilson said he wanted to see me alone, I refuse to get my hopes up . . . or have them drowned.
I have trouble swallowing as I nod and say, “I’ll meet you at the elevator bank in two minutes.”
I shut the door and then lean on it, trying to catch a big breath.
Fuck.
Matt is going to be the end of me.
Maybe the end of my career, too.
And I should probably take that into serious consideration before I do something reckless.
I don’t.
I kick into action and rush to my small closet. I change into a skirt and blouse, gather my things, grab my room key, and shut my door, following Wilson to the elevators, then down the back exit to the hotel’s underground parking lot.
The door opens from within the car as I approach.
“Charlotte,” a deliciously wicked voice murmurs from the shadows of the backseat.
“Matt.”
I swallow the lump of excitement and desire that gathers in my throat. I’m wet already. Nipples pressing into the fabric of my bra and blouse. He scoots over and I slip inside, shutting the door behind me.
He’s dressed in black.
Smells expensive.
And he looks hotter than sin.
He also moves fast as sin as he reaches out to take my chin between his thumb and finger and forces me to look into his beautiful dark eyes. “I hope I didn’t disturb your sleep.”
His voice is husky, and so is mine.
“Actually, you did. But you didn’t have to send Wilson to knock on my door to do that.”
He smiles and gazes at me, sliding his other hand over the seat until it covers mine. I catch my breath at the touch. He squeezes my fingers, forcing me to meet his gaze.
Wilson drives down the darkened streets while Matt lifts my hand with both of his, turns it over, and drops a kiss on the inside of my palm.
I catch my breath, the warm and silky tip of his tongue flicking out. Circling the sensitive skin at the center of my palm.
I groan, inching closer to his body. Emanating heat.
Matt grips me by the hips and pulls me the rest of the way to him. He brushes my hair behind my forehead. “I asked Wilson to help me secure some privacy for us.” He studies my features.
“I’m glad,” I admit, thickly.
I reach up to his shadowed face.
God, is this happening?
Really?
I’m stroking my fingers lightly over his taut flesh. Loving the feel of the shadow of beard across his jaw beneath my fingertips. The way his jaw clenches as he lets me touch him, his eyes absolutely feasting on my face.
“If you don’t stop looking at me like that, we won’t make it to the elevators,” he warns.
“How am I looking at you?”
“The same way you looked at me when I kissed your knuckles at the hospital.”
“Oh no! I looked at you a certain way? That can’t be too good! People could see.”
His lips tug at the corners. “They’re used to girls flirting with me. It’s my own reactions I need to watch.” He smiles, then leans over and pecks my lips.
I lick my lips, tasting him on them. “You’re very good at controlling your reactions.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. My grandfather’s on to me.”
“He hates me, doesn’t he?”
“He hates the idea of anything standing between me and what he wants for me.”
I exhale.
“You looked great with the kids out there today. At the hospital,” he says. Voice low and appreciative.
“Me? It’s you they love.”
He chuckles, slowly shaking his head. “If that’s true, then you’ve won them over just as much; otherwise why would they ask me to kiss a girl if it’s not someone they’d want to see me with?” He smiles and leans back, eyeing me. “See, kids aren’t affected by norms and rules. They just see what is and know exactly how they’d like it to be.”
“It made me laugh that you indulged the kids but not the nosy reporters.”
“They threw it as bait, I’m not giving them that. At least, not willingly.” He looks at me then, and the understanding of the risks weighs down the silence between us.
Wilson pulls into a smaller hotel just a few blocks away from ours.
It’s more low-key, not exactly one-star but not five, either. A place where Matt wouldn’t be expected to stay.
“I’m right behind you. Power off your phone,” Matt instructs.
I’m so nervous that I’m chewing on my lower lip as I take the room key Matt gives me before I open the car door.
“Don’t play too hard with that lip—that’s for me to do later.”
I pause.
Release my lip.
Watch his lips curve into a slow, satisfied smile.
And I smile back.
Then I quickly turn off my phone, exhale, tuck the key into my side pocket, and head to the elevators.
This is so reckless. So reckless, but the prospect of his touch is too thrilling.
A woman in a red sweater boards the elevator with me.
My heart starts thrumming in my chest.
I keep my head down, busily staring at my Mary Janes. My pulse throbs with adrenaline, anticipation, and fear. Down the hall, I slide the key into the slot and enter the room.
Spacious, simple, modern, and elegant.
I hurry to the bathroom, shake my hair loose, pinch my cheeks, and then head outside, pacing.
I wait for minutes, until . . .
The door opens.
His tall form fills the doorway. Still dressed in black—except for a cap on his head.
The only guy I’ve ever wanted.
He steps in and shuts the door with one elbow.
I exhale. “Did anyone see you?” I ask.
He takes off the New York cap. “No.”
“I was sure to keep my head down, I—”
Large and agile and gorgeous, he crosses the room, takes my hand, lifts it to his mouth, and skims a kiss over the back of my fingers.
I watch, transfixed, when he starts to suck the tips ever so exquisitely in his warm mouth. His gaze is like a missile of heat aiming straight for the hot spot between my legs as he licks me. Watching me with heated eyes as he nibbles and sucks carefully on each one. I groan softly.
He releases my hand, his warm fingers curving around my hip. I feel his nose at the top of my head, against my scalp.
The stroke of one hand on my hair, from the top of my head to my back.
Under my shirt, his arm now sliding around my waist, pulling us flush.
I’m so undone, a shudder wracks me. Making him tighten his hold more.
I know I shouldn’t want these things.
He won’t be the kind of man to kiss me goodnight every night. He might have so much that it’d even be understandable if he forgot your birthday. He’s not the guy you can have your happy life with; he’s the guy women throw themselves at, he’s the guy who wants more than what you can give and he will always restlessly pursue it.
I know all this, but I cannot stop from moving closer and feeling his heartbeat through the cotton of his shirt.
We’ve been working tirelessly for months.
He feels too good right now.
And it feels too good to feel his eyes quietly caress me as his hands slowly stroke my hair and he tells me, “Have you thought about this?”
I nod.
He grabs the back of my neck and holds me still and kisses me.
The next few minutes, I’m trembling under his kisses and caresses. His hand running from the top of my head down to my feet as he removes my shoes. I feel protected, cherished …
What we’re doing is risky, but how can it be wrong when it feels so right?
Matt eases back and cups my face, and he looks so hot right now, I could be staring at the sun. He’s staring at me as if I dazzle him too, and the smile on his lips softens a little as his eyes start pulsing like a living, breathing thing. We’re both high from the adrenaline, the forbiddenness of finally, finally giving in to this attraction between us.
He scoops me up by the hips and lifts me in the air, just a few inches, so that my lips are exactly where he wants them.
And he takes them. Hard.
His lips forcing mine apart, his tongue plunging, his head angled for the best, most instant access.
The longing that’s been building inside of me bubbles up and I wrap my arms around his shoulders.
It feels as if every day since I joined his campaign, I’ve been waiting for this. To feel Matt’s hands around me, holding me to his hard chest. Engulfing me in his strong embrace.
All my resistance vanishes as his tongue strokes mine, and I suck and lick and rub his tongue back in a whirl of heat and passion and recklessness. I tighten my arms around his neck, and he makes a low sound from deep in his chest, as if he approves of my wild kiss.
He’s breathing fast, but I’m breathing faster. He sets me on my feet, and his hand covers my cheek and his fingers stroke along my temples. “I’ve been trying to do the right thing. I fucking can’t,” he says.
“Don’t.”
I turn my lips to nip at the heel of his palm. He releases a sound I’d never heard him make before, like a growl that contains one word inside it: Charlotte.
His lips smash down on mine.
We kiss madly for about thirty seconds, then pull free to study each other.
I look into his face, and he stares down at me, still the guy I craved when I was younger, but now so much hotter, and more unattainable than ever.
Nothing matters, it doesn’t matter.
All I know is I want him. My body is so on fire I could splinter any second.
I take his hand and put it on my shirt and drag it lower, lower, beneath the fabric of my blouse, then upward, pressing it to my breast—over my bra.
Matt rewards me with a slow, languorous, sensual smile as he cups me fully in his warm grasp.
He leans in and kisses me slowly this time, stroking his thumb over my nipple. I let his hand remain on my breast, thrilled when he flicks open a button with his free hand and steals it under my shirt. Now both my breasts are getting fondled.
Teased.
Kneaded.
Swallowing back a groan, I grip his shoulders and fist the fabric of his shirt in my hands, arching up against him.
“I want to strip you down and run my tongue over every inch of you,” he rasps. His body vibrates with his desire, and I can see that he likes how I’m rubbing up against him like a cat.
He peels my blouse away and exposes me in my lace bra.
“God, you’re so beautiful I need to see all of you.” He takes me in with his eyes, then our mouths are fusing back together. He kisses me with relish, as if he plans to enjoy me all night. Yes!
Things are getting heated when there are noises out in the hotel hall.
Matt peels his lips away.
He lifts his head and turns to watch the door, and I wait, holding my breath. His nostrils flare as the noises fade.
Doubts try to trickle in, but they don’t stand a chance against this—against him.
He glances back at me, his chest heaving, his lips tipping a little. He looks at me and licks his lips. “Charlotte, Charlotte. You have no idea the kinds of things I want to do to you, baby.”
Show me! Do it!
For long seconds, he looks down at my lace bra and slowly lowers his head and captures one nipple. He flicks it with his tongue. It’s already hard, but when he sucks over the thin fabric, it hardens more.
His growl excites me.
I groan and rub my hands over his back when he eases his hands between our bodies, under the waistband of my skirt. His fingers slip into my panties, brushing over my folds.
“Give me this, beautiful,” he part growls, part croons as he finds my nub, my folds, and teases his finger along my wetness. “God, give me everything.”
“Please.” I tilt my hips as he pushes his finger inside me.
I clench around him, my whole body tightening as a low mewl bubbles up my throat.
“That’s right, baby, do you like it when I do this?” he asks thickly as he inserts a second finger.
He’s easing my bra down and circling the tip of his tongue across my bared nipple, murmuring, “God, you’re so gorgeous like this,” when there’s a knock on the door.
Matt peels his lips away and curses under his breath, extracting his finger and licking it clean.
That has to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, god help me.
Smirking, he heads to the door. He looks through the peephole and then waits until I straighten my clothes before he opens it.
Wilson steps inside swiftly and shuts the door. “Someone must have recognized you and tipped off the press. We need to leave, Matt.” He’s frowning and seems to be avoiding looking at me.
“Jesus,” Matt growls.
He rakes five fingers through his hair, obviously pissed. Then Matt glances at me in apology. He shoots a glance at Wilson next. “Give us a minute.”
Wilson steps out, and I can’t move fast enough.
I can tell Matt can see I’m mortified as he crosses the room while I scramble to straighten my clothes.
He grabs my face and looks at me closely, our eyes only inches apart. “Hey, stay calm, baby. We’re adults. We’re not hurting anyone.”
“I know; I just don’t want to mess anything up. It’s just that, since that night . . .”
I shake my head. I could just hit myself for being so weak around him, for having such little self-control when it comes to him.
“I couldn’t forget you—no years were enough. I watched you everywhere you went. I wasn’t even sure if I should take the job. When Carlisle came to offer me the job, I thought that if I still felt the spark I did at the mere thought of you, I’d stay away. I should be staying away—”
“Tell me about the spark,” he says, his eyes sparkling now.
I purse my lips, frowning, suddenly mad at him for looking at me with those laughing eyes right now. “It’s not a spark.”
“No?”
I grit my teeth, shooting fire at him with my gaze. “It’s . . . sparks, plural.” I shake my head. “It’s a torch. The Olympic torch.”
“Ahhhh,” he says.
I swear this man can chuckle silently with his eyes.
I don’t know how he does that!
I shove his hard chest a bit and keep scowling. “Why can’t I dislike you like I do your opponents?”
“Because you want to sleep with me.”
I laugh despite myself, then turn away to the window.
Sober now.
He steps behind me, inhales my hair slowly. My heart flips in my chest because he’s brushing his nose lightly into my scalp. His voice is close to my ear. “Sleep with me when we get to D.C. this weekend.”
“Matt . . .” I begin.
Yes!
No. No. NO.
I’m torn as I slowly face him.
He’s People’s Sexiest Man Alive, despite years working to be taken seriously. Fooling around with a young intern isn’t the image he’s worked to achieve.
“We’ve started something here. I’m not about to let it go,” he says, cutting me off.
Wow. He’s really stubborn.
I exhale.
He catches my chin and smiles down at me. He repeats, “Sleep with me in D.C.”
I ease an inch back, away from his touch. “I’m just realizing that I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not sure that I don’t want more.”
My admission is sobering to myself. And to him.
“More,” he repeats.
He drops his hold. Then rakes a hand over his hair while a restless little muscle starts working in the back of his jaw.
“My biggest fear is my kids will experience things in life and I won’t know about it. That I’ll be the last to wish them a happy birthday. That my wife will be alone every night because I’m too busy to even kiss her goodnight. I couldn’t do that to you, Charlotte. I watched my mother suffer greatly next to my father when he took office.”
He shoves his fisted hands into his pockets, looking down at me intently.
“I want you, Charlotte. I want us. This. But if I win . . .”
Shadows fall across his eyes and reality floods my heart at the unspoken words that hang heavily in the air—winning doesn’t come with more. It’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make to become this country’s leader, and one I admire him for.
“You will win,” I tell him.
I’m fighting to keep the regret from my voice.
Matt just stares at me, my lips, my face, lifting his fingers as his lips curl. “All this conviction,” he croons, rubbing the pad of his thumb over my lips.
My heart is tripping all over itself.
I can’t help staring at his full, sensuous lips. I might not get more, but I can’t deny myself another kiss from this man.
I lean up on my toes, slipping my arms around his neck. Around this stubborn, confident, kind, sexy, larger-than-life, rebellious man’s neck.
And my lips meet his.
We’re kissing heatedly, and there’s a light tap on the door, and the stolen moments are gone—and as he chucks my chin, smiles, and heads out the door, reality starts to sink in.