Red Blooded (21 page)

“I wonder where you got that from.” He smiles and, for the first time, I see his eyes glisten. He turns away, wiping his face. When he looks back at me, he says. “I’m glad you came.”

“Me too.”

Chapter Forty-One

When I exit, Dylan, as promised, is standing next to the door, waiting for me. His face crashes and he pulls me to him. “Are you okay? What happened? If he did anything...”

“No, it was good,” I say, sniffling into his sweater. “It was good.”

“Are you sure?” he whispers into my hair.

“Yeah.”

The guy who brought us rushes by. “Stay right here,” he warns us, before swooping into the office. We wait, not releasing each other until the door clangs open and Roberts bursts out.

“There’s a reporter outside. A few people Tweeted that they thought they saw you here.” He frowns. “If they see you and can confirm it, well...”

I looked to Dylan. “What should we do?”

“I’ve got a driver,” Roberts continues. “He can come around behind the building. The back windows are tinted.”

Dylan puts his hands behind his head. “Yeah, I think we’ll have to do that. Thanks.”

Roberts nods to the man with folded arms. “Take them to the back entrance. Have Tony take them home.”

We head deeper into the building and down a few flights to a loading dock type area. The night is cold and chilly as we get in the back of the car. Dylan gives his address to the driver and then stares out the window, jaw tight.

I don’t want to say anything.

When we get out of the car, his house is quiet. Dark.

“Where is everyone?” I ask.

“House party.” His voice is gruff as he motions for me to follow him. “Come on.”

He walks up the creaky stairs and I follow. He opens a door to his room. It represents him perfectly. The shelf is full of political books and there’s a large JFK poster and collection of donkey bobble-heads. I walk to the side of the shelf, near the wall, to read a framed Doonesbury cartoon. I giggle at the punch line and turn around. “This is pretty funny.”

He doesn’t laugh or smile or even nod.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Was it worth it?”

“Yeah,” I smile. “It really was, and I am so grateful for all your help.”

A brief smile crosses his face before he’s back to his penetrating stare. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about waiting,” he says in this gravelly voice as he steps toward me.

“Yeah?” I say. He closes the space between us.

“I’ve been patient. I’ve been really fucking patient.” He rubs his thumb along my collarbone and licks his lips.

“Yeah,” I whisper as I arch my back.

“I’m done being patient.”

His hands envelop my cheeks as he presses his mouth against mine. My hands hold his neck as he pushes me into the wall. My heart beats fast against his chest as his mouth makes its way along my jaw before he licks the sensitive part under my ear. I work on getting his belt off as quickly as possible, which is difficult because he’s trying to take my dress off at the same time. I laugh and say, “This isn’t work—” He pushes my arms up and pulls my dress over my head in one quick swoop. He pulls my waist flush against him with one hand as his finger trails slowly along the skin above my bra. He pulls down one of the straps, his thumb gently gliding over my nipple. I press my head against the wall and moan. He smiles as he unclips my bra. He lifts me and takes my breast in his mouth—heat ricochets down my spine. I tug at his shirt and get it over his toned shoulders. Finally, my hands explore all the dents in his abs I’ve been wanting to touch for so long.

We keep kissing, over and over, as we get his pants off. I slide my fingers into his boxers. As I touch him, his breathing becomes more uneven. “Enough,” he grunts. He picks me up and crashes me into the bed, wet, hot kisses trailing down me.

Through heavy breaths against my skin, he says, “I want you so much, but I don’t want you to feel any pressure...”

“Ditto.” I start to shimmy out of my panties. Dylan is rather helpful in this task. Once I’m free, his fingers test me, rubbing slowly, before they push into me. I arch my back and moan. As he moves within me, he watches me like I’m a work of art in motion. It doesn’t take long for the friction to culminate. I clutch him as the world rockets—in a good way. No, wait, in a fantastic way.

“Dylan,” I whisper.

“Yes,” he says in a raspy voice.

“I don’t want to be patient anymore either. I want you right now. “

He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he pulls off his boxers and grabs a condom.

He rolls it on and props himself over me. He strokes the tip against me. I stretch and groan. His face morphs as he glides into me. Sparks soar and take flight in my veins. He holds the back of my head as we continue to move together.

He’s thick and rhythmic and everything else that’s marvelous. I could go on like this forever. It’s where I’m supposed to be. He licks the spot below my ear and I can’t help writhing in his grasp.

“You like that?” he whispers.

“I love it.” Now I’m sounding raspy too.

I feel his wet grin against my skin before he continues to run circles with his tongue along my neck. He thrusts inside me and groans in my ear. It puts me over the edge. I’m gone again. I clutch his glorious-smelling hair and the blankets and I’d probably clutch something else if I had more than two hands.

He stares at me as I come and soon he’s going to, grabbing on to me, his hands firm around my hips as he arches his neck.

He falls next to me and holds me close to him. Our hot breaths cascade on our hot skin.

He takes my hands and rubs my knuckles against his lips. “I meant everything I said.”

“What?”

“On Marie’s show. I meant it.” His eyes glint in the soft light as he takes a deep breath. “You’re the person I need. The only person I want.”

I curl my hands around his neck and bring our faces closer together. Our warm tongues can be soft and gentle in a way impatience wouldn’t have allowed an hour ago. I pull back and whisper, “I need you, too.”

Chapter Forty-Two

I
have days or weeks left.
It’s not clear.
When I wake up in the morning
,
I’m never sure I’ll be around to go to sleep that night.
But then again
,
that’s true for all of us.

* * *

Dylan is pretty new to this whole not-waiting thing, so he wants to declare his passionate love to everyone, starting with Lisa. Fortunately, before he has a chance to send an embarrassing email, I convince him there are certain things it is okay to wait for. Especially when acting now would help nothing and hurt so many things. We agree to keep our true feelings to ourselves until after the election. So, the way Dylan rubs my knee and smiles at me on the ride home may not look that different to outsiders. But I feel a 180.

We watch videos of cats flopping around and hamsters eating mini burritos and we burrow into each other’s laughs.

When we get back, we don’t have much time before we need to get ready for Tristan’s parents’ fundraiser. I thought Dylan looked good in a suit, but seeing him in a tux...my. Let’s just say I have trouble keeping my hands to myself in the limo. And when we emerge from the car and he crooks his arm for me, I can’t help feeling all fluttery.

It’s silly. It’s girlish.

I don’t care.

“Hey, Missy.”

Bain. My fluffy, fun emotions swirl down the drain. “Hey.”

“We need to talk.” He walks down the elegant hall and Dylan and I follow. Bain turns around. “Just Peyton.”

Dylan squeezes my arm before I continue. Bain enters a small, empty reception room. I walk in and he shuts the door.

“So.” He puts his hands behind his back and eyes me. “You’re against teachers now?”

Oh, right. He hasn’t seen me since the Marie interview. “I’m not against teachers, or even teachers’ unions. They have an important function in helping teachers. I just think the unions have a lot of bad policies that are hurting education in this country.”

“Last I checked, that wasn’t one of the positions of the campaign.” He leans forward, his eyes pierce with growling focus.

“Last I checked, I’m not one of the candidates.” I lean right back, even though my heart thumps like a rabbit.

He smirks and lets out a little laugh.

A laugh. He should be furious. Is he about to go crazy on me? “I was speaking for myself. I said that. And I don’t regret it.”

“Me neither.” The smile gets infinitesimally bigger. “But why don’t we make a deal? For the next two weeks, you can say whatever you want about education reform. Hell, maybe we should get rid of tenure entirely!”

Is he serious?

“But can you at least let me know before you do that? Not for approval, just give me a heads up, okay? So I can see it coming.”

“Okay.” I sort of wanted to get in a spitfire match with him. But two weeks before the election, he’s probably all spitfired out. And I should have mercy.

He turns to the door.

“Did I hurt our chances?” Do I really want to hear his response?

He turns back. “No, you helped. The teachers’ unions get that—and I quote myself from multiple phone calls—’we can’t control Peyton,’ and the education reform people are going bonkers. It’s almost like they think they have someone who’s listening to them on the ticket.”

I smile, and he does too. Again.

“Come on,” he says, opening the door. “There are people I need you to talk to in there.”

Of course.

Dylan is great at introducing me to the people on my “list,” while also giving me plenty of breaks. On one break, as I stand in my gown and explain to him why pigs in a blanket is perhaps the perfect food, someone taps on my back. Tristan.

I smile. He takes my hand. “Let’s dance.”

I look back at Dylan. He nods toward the bar. “I’ll wait over there.”

Tristan glides me onto the floor with one hand in the air, the other curved around my waist.

“So, how was he?” Tristan asks, wiggling his brow.

“What do you mean?” I laugh.

He rolls his eyes. “Something is obviously different between you two. So, you must have had sex, right? How was he?”

He waits for all the juicy details. Oh, Tristan.

“Why is it always sex with you? Can’t sex be the result, not the cause, of emotion?”

“Emotions, sex, post—or pre-coitus, it doesn’t matter to me as long as you’re happy...and you look happy.”

“Sometimes happiness in a relationship can happen even without sex,” I say.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”

He laughs and gives me swirl. As I’m leaned back, my red hair dangles to the floor and I see an upside-down version of my mom. Blood rushes to my head.

“You are happy with him, right?” Tristan asks, breath against my elongated neck, before he pulls me back up.

“Very.” I say.

“Good.”

After a few more twirls, Tristan sees a cute girl he knows. That’s for the best, because I need to talk to my mom. I stride over to her.

She has to finish talking to a couple about the strategy for the final weeks of the campaign, but once we’re basically alone, she smiles at me. “You seem...different,” she says as she takes a small sip of her wine.

“What do you mean?” I ask, heat tingling in my cheeks.

She squishes her lips. “Before, it was like there was a cloud hanging over you. I could tell you were upset, but now, you seem like a weight has been lifted. Like you’ve got something figured out.”

“Well,” I say, twisting part of the copious fabric on my dress. I could get into Dylan, but honestly, it’s more than that. “I talked to Representative Roberts.”

Her knuckles turn white as she grasps the wineglass harder.

“I know that—” I start.

“Not here, Peyton,” she says. “Not now. But later, we’ll talk later.”

“We were careful,” I whisper. “And it was something I needed to do. It’s something you should have done for me years ago.”

She closes her eyes. “Peyton, you shouldn’t have. Do you realize what you could have—”

“I forgive you, Mom. But I’m not going to apologize. You put me in this position and I handled it as well as I could.”

She forces a small smile. “And you’ve been doing great, Peyton. Your father would be very proud.”

“I know.”

Chapter Forty-Three

The day Peyton was born the weather threatened us.
The plants shivered in the cooling air as the sky grew darker.
I
clenched my fists on the steering wheel
,
trying to calm Jen down as we drove to the hospital as quickly as possible.
Suddenly
,
waterfalls fell from the sky.
Our car was able to move forward on the monsoon of a road only because the heavens allowed us to continue existing.
I’ve never felt more aware of nature’s potential to wash me from the surface of the earth.

And with the knowledge
,
I
was able to live life more freely.

* * *

The alarm clock on my phone blares and Dylan’s body starts against mine. He sits up, like a mummy called to service, but I roll over and tug on his shirt. “We can afford to snooze for five minutes,” I say, pulling him back into my reach.

“Even today?” His tone is skeptical, but he lies back down so he’s pressed against me as his hand curls around my waist.

I reach around his head and pull him to me, our lips brushing. “Even today.”

“I shouldn’t have stayed,” he whispers, but his heart isn’t really in the words.

After an eighteen-hour day of last-minute campaigning, we didn’t have the energy to resist curling into each other. We got caught up in mouths and hands and eyes and fell asleep in my dorm room.

“Some mistakes turn out to be good things,” I say.

He rubs his nose against mine. “You ready for today?”

“Well, I still haven’t decided who I’m going to vote for, but...” I grin.

“Once you get in the booth, I bet the right answer will come to you.”

“I’m counting on it,” I say. “Are you ready for today? The last day of a campaign?”

He nods, eyes brown and deep. “I’m even looking forward to tomorrow.”

When the alarm goes off again, we both scramble for it as he murmurs into my mouth. “Five more minutes.”