The Phoenix Campaign (Grace Colton Book 2) (18 page)

He takes my right hand and presses it to his chest. “Feel that?”

His heartbeat pulses in his chest. I nod.

“When you’re up there under the lights, I want you to feel my heartbeat and the heartbeats of the people in the audience. Feel their connection, their humanity. Nobody falls in love with a robot.”

My shoulders fall and I reach for Jared, needing to feel his very human, physical reassurance. His hands slide up and down my bare back, a caress that speaks to something more than the fiery passion that ignites us.

There’s genuine care there. Genuine warmth. “I need to know you’re rooting for me.”

“Always, Grace.”

“Even if I lose?”

“You won’t lose. You and Shep can win this.”

“But what if—” I stop, my truth on the tip of my tongue. “What if it gets ugly? What if this campaign changes us?”

Jared tucks a finger beneath my chin, lifting my face to meet his gaze. “You think things between us will change? Because of whatever happens at the ballot box?”

No. It’s everything
outside
the ballot box. It’s the truth and the lies that are piling up.
“It might.”

Jared drops his chin until our lips are a breath apart. His nose slides against mine and I feel the tickle of his whiskers on my lips, the soft pad of his lips touching mine, the light flick of tongue.

His wetness. His warmth. He pulls me closer, crushing me against his body, and I feel him harden between us. I grab his ass and pull our hips together, wanting him to feel the chasm of want inside me.

How much I need this.

How much I need him.

Jared lifts me and I wrap my legs around his hips as he walks us back toward the bedroom. He pulls the bedclothes open and lays me down gently, reverently. His fingertips skim down the center of my chest, between my breasts, over my belly, to the softness of my center.

“Nothing will change between us.”

I whimper when he touches me, when his fingers spread me open.

“Nothing that happens in this campaign can change who you are to me. How important you’ve become.”

“But what if people
know
about you? About us?” The specter of Lauren Kennedy Darrow passing that information to the media, naming the man in the picture, haunts me.

“Some secrets aren’t meant to be kept forever,” Jared says. His eyes trace my body and I’m afraid he’ll see through me and uncover mine. But he has no way of knowing, and as he strips off his clothes without breaking eye contact, his intent becomes clear. “I want to know more of yours.”

“My secrets?” I squeak, squirming beneath him as he leans over me on the bed, a predator coming for his prey.

“Yes. All of them.” His teeth nip my earlobe, then trace down my neck. His cock is hot and hard against my belly. He raises his hips. “Tell me one.”

The baby. I must tell him about the baby.
“I’m scared of heights.”

“Not good enough. Tell me something harder.” Jared’s cock nudges my entrance and I spread my legs wider, wrapping myself around him, begging him to fill me.

“I want you to … do things to me. Things I haven’t done before.”

Jared
hmms
. “Tell me more.” He pushes inside me and I gasp and pant.
 

“Things … I can’t say them. I just … need them.” The dark corners of my mind, where I’ve packed away a few delicious taboos, feel like they’re pulsing, straining to be heard.

“You have to tell me what you need. What you want.”

“I can’t.”

Jared pushes himself back until he’s sitting on his knees. His fingers trail up and down my chest, rubbing across my nipples that buzz with sensitivity.

“I know you like this,” Jared says, and he flicks his thumb across my clit as his hips flex, filling me with a sweet ache.

“Yessss,” I say, letting some of my self-consciousness go.

“And this?” His hands crawl up my chest to flick my nipples to attention and he pinches them just to the edge of pain.

I nod, unable to make words.

“And what else do you want that I haven’t discovered?”

I think of my vibrator, buried in the bottom of my suitcase, an embarrassing necessity since the pregnancy ignited my hormones. They’ve made me restless nightly for relief when Jared’s not here.

He wasn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow and yet he found a way to come for me.

Jared follows my glance toward my suitcase and his brow quirks with a question. “Something I should know about, sweetheart?”

My cheeks burn with embarrassment and I shake my head.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He withdraws from me and I feel empty, but he goes to my suitcase, pawing beneath my skirts, blouses, and panties until he finds a small, drawstring bag. He holds it up. “Is this what I think it is?”

I draw my knees together and break his gaze. “Maybe,” I mumble.

Jared’s delight is so evident that he sounds like a kid in a toy store. “A new toy? Or an oldie but goodie?”

I cut my eyes back to him and see him slip the batteries in the back of the silver shaft. It’s slim and has a gently rounded head—it looks nothing like a dildo—but its variable speeds can consistently get me off even when my fingers can’t. “Oldie,” I murmur.

“I like it.” Jared gives me a wicked grin and screws the battery compartment closed. He twists the dial at the end and it springs to life with a soft buzz. “It has potential.”

“No, just put it away.”

“You sure you want me to do that? Because I think it might be more fun.” He’s already crawling back to me across the bed, opening my legs, his cock hard and ready.

“It’s so, I mean, I didn’t think you’d want…” I trail off, embarrassment warring with my keen awareness that he wants to use this toy.

On me.

And I think I will like it.

“If you can’t tell me what you want, show me if you like this,” Jared says. He skims the vibe across the top of my sex, creating tremors that buzz through my belly. He dips the vibrator lower, teasing my clit, and my hips jerk off the bed.

“A very positive response.” Jared chuckles, low and eager, and nudges his cock between my thighs. “More?”

I nod my head fervently, eyes closed tight, desperate for him to take the reins. His hot shaft fills me and then the vibrator presses on my bud and I twitch beneath him, squirming with delight. My cheeks flush hot as he groans, his own pleasure evident as he sees me respond.

“So many possibilities,” Jared says. “So many secrets to explore.”

My breath catches at the word
secrets
and Jared hooks a hand beneath my knee, turning me over to my front and pulling my hips off the bed. He coaxes me to rock back, ass in the air, completely exposed to him, then he trails the vibrator through my wetness, slicking me from front to back, again and again.

The buzz increases in pitch and I know Jared’s raised its frequency a notch as he presses it into my body. He fills me with it, then withdraws, then presses against my clit, then up between my cheeks.

Alarm bells clang in my head. He spreads my legs further, his thumb circles my ass, pressing against the tight muscle. I recoil. He strokes me, then he rakes his nails down my back, sending me into a full-body shiver.

“I want you to feel everything. I want you to let go.” He presses the vibe against my back entrance and I hold my breath, the vibrations running through me like the chirp of power lines on a summer night. An insistent buzz that grows louder, that fills my senses until I am beyond resistance.

I rock my hips back toward him and that is his signal.
Fill me.
He guides the vibrator inside me, slowly as I adjust. I breathe in—one, two, three—and out as I force my muscles to relax. To accept. To enjoy.

My mind spins with the intensity of the moment. I feel untethered from my body, as if gravity has left me. But Jared drags me back to earth, a slow, consuming motion, as his cock fills me, stretching me to delicious fulfillment.

Jared’s groan becomes a roar as he moves within me, first slow and steady, then with a building, driving force. One hand guides the vibrator while the other anchors my hip as he thrusts inside me, deep and wild.

I let go.

I scream his name, holy hell, and all the things pent up inside me. Too many secrets. Too much pressure. The physical pressure of him is sweet release from the pressure in my brain driving me forward, forward, forward.

I cling to the sheets in front of me, claw through the reservations to find my release, as sweet and sharp and unbridled as it needs to be.

Jared’s voice is beyond words, just the deep timbre of his throat as he releases and drives me over the edge. I catapult beyond time and place. I detonate, letting my body fall to pieces as he makes me whole.

I collapse in a pile of shaking limbs and pulsing veins, Jared taking care as he releases me, shuts off the vibe, wraps me in a sheet and then his arms. He spoons his body around mine, his nose buried in my hair, his lips whispering sweet promises that I hope are true.

I hope they will be true no matter what happens next.

But for every ounce of truth in his words, there’s a lie festering between us. The thing I haven’t—I can’t—tell him. Because I don’t
know.
I don’t know what we’ll be when he learns we are more than two.

We are three.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The television studio buzzes with activity as producers check a million details and the floor director puts each camera through its paces. I count five stationary cameras, three shoulder mounts, and a half-dozen monitors strewn around the edges of the soundstage.

While there are three televised presidential debates, there will be only one vice presidential debate.

I’d better make it good.

Jared’s supposed to be gone traveling with Shep, but he lingers at the edges of the green room as I sit in a director’s chair for makeup. Sasha’s running point for this debate and she stands behind me, frowning critically into the mirror.

I return her gaze. “Something on your mind?”

“We’ve got too much exposure,” she says. “There are too many loose ends we haven’t tied up, policy-wise, and I think they know.” She flicks her eyes to my opponent on the opposite side of the green room.

“Tell me something. When have you ever seen an election won strictly on policy grounds?”

She purses her lips. “Never. It’s never been done and it never will be.”

“Then why do you look so worried?”

“Landon Sharp is airtight. I’ve been over his record a million times and he might as well still have his original packaging and warranty. This guy is predictable. Methodical. He’s going to pick apart your record.”

I stifle a sneeze as the makeup artist dusts finishing powder across my forehead, nose and cheeks. “Let him.”

I stand from the chair and touch her arm lightly. “I’m glad you’re in my corner. Let’s go have some fun.”

“Remember the power of the pause,” she reminds me. It’s her favorite line.
The power of the pause defines your soundbites. The pause gets you elected.

I nod and search the room for Jared, who is rapidly typing something into his phone. I give Sasha a “one minute” signal by holding up a finger, then cross the room to Jared.

“Playing Words With Friends?” I ask, startling him. His surprised face melts into a slow smile and I return it, carefully keeping a professional distance between us. Over his shoulder, I see Sasha watching us intently.

“Shep just landed a major endorsement. It means votes
and
money.” Jared half-smiles and pockets his phone. “How’s the lady of the hour? Nervous? Excited?”

“Trying not to puke,” I answer cheerfully. My morning sickness has largely receded, replaced by my usual public-speaking butterflies.

Jared wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, don’t do that. It would mess up a very nice suit.” He touches my shoulder lightly, a familiar gesture that’s a bit more than just a political consultant approving of Sasha’s choice of a cobalt-blue suit jacket. Paired with white pearls and a deep maroon silk blouse that drapes at my neck, I’m rocking the red, white and blue theme even better than Lauren Darrow did at
Women to the Helm.

“I’m glad you approve.” I smile up at Jared and his eyes crinkle with warmth. Damn, I love those crinkles. I love this man in front of me and yet I can’t give—or accept—a kiss for luck.

“Knock ’em dead, darlin’. I’ll be watching from the wings.” Jared dips his head and brushes my cheek with his lips, a move so quick I barely feel his stubble whisk across my face. He turns and is gone.

I reach up to touch the place his lips grazed, bemused, grateful that he’s here for me on the most important night of the campaign so far, even though he should be with Shep. Selfishly, I’m grateful. Selfishly, I’m getting what I need from him, even though I’m not giving him what he needs to truly be part of my life.

The truth.

First, I reasoned that I was waiting to understand Jared’s intent. Or maybe I was just waiting for things to stabilize, for this campaign to finally get on an even keel. But with the seriousness of what happened to Trey, it’s clear that I can’t keep stalling. Nobody is guaranteed a tomorrow.

Is there ever a convenient time to tell the truth?

“You go on in five.” Sasha is beside me, gripping her tablet. The deep, worried groove between her brows tells me something’s wrong.

“What?”

She looks at me closely.

“Do I have lipstick on my teeth?” I grimace, revealing my teeth.

She shakes her head. “Nothing wrong. Just—uh, new information.”

“What should I know? Is it Trey?”

She shakes her head, clearly ruffled. “He’s stable. Making progress.” She clears her throat. “You need to focus on here and now. Landon’s going to try to get the upper hand.”

A producer buzzes over to double-check my lapel mic and I hold still for the adjustment. “How?”

“Moral high ground. Being friendlier to the audience. Striking first with an unfounded accusation. I don’t know his tactic, but I know he likes to punch first.”

“I can take it.”

Sasha narrows her eyes. “No. Not his first punch. Don’t let him land anything first. Duck.”