“Bryce, you’re don’t know what you’re-”
“Oh fuck off, Hudson.” He stands and walks over to the window; “When will you just admit to yourself that you’re a whole new man, and that the fuck-up you were died back there in the desert?” He looks at me with cool, stony eyes; “And when will you just learn how to take a fucking compliment, man?”
P R E S E N T
We’re back inside the house camped out on opposites sides of the sofa in the library looking out over the moon-lit grounds of her father’s house. If I had my way, she’d be on my lap, and preferably naked, instead of four feet away across the giant expanse of couch. But I know she’s right that we need to maintain distance; I know what this can’t look like. Of course, being this close to her when I can still taste her on my tongue is driving me nine different shades of crazy, and I shift again uncomfortably as my cock presses rock hard against my pants.
She’s glowing in the im moonlight streaming in through the windows; her whole face lighting up in a way I’ve seen so rarely since walking back into her life as she grins at me from the other end of the sofa; “So, is that what you do to all the young female politicians that Archer Holdings funds?”
“Oh, absolutely” I say with a totally straight face; “Although most of them don’t try and yank my hair out by the roots when they come on my tongue.”
I can see the shade of red her face goes even from here, and even through the white light of the moon as she rolls her eyes; “Dick.”
“Oh, is that what you were after?” I’m teasing her, but I shrug and start to reach for my zipper.
“Hudson!” She hisses, her eyes darting to the wide open library doorway before her concerned look drops back to me and she sees the smirk on my face. “Asshole,” she says with a wry grin. She swings her feet up into the couch as she turns to face me; “So that’s how you used to get all those girls you’d parade around with? Just whip out the fishing rod and see what bites?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” The banter is making me grin, and I can see her roll her eyes as she tries to hide the flash of smile on her face. “Of course, it helps to have a big rod.” I say with a sly wink, and I love seeing her face instantly get even redder as she buries it in her hands.
“Well, I wouldn’t know.” She says primly; mock sophistication in her voice.
I arch an eyebrow at her and she bites her lips and rolls her eyes, and I know she’s thinking about walking in on me in the bathroom; “I mean I wouldn’t know what it feels like.”
“But you’re dying to, right?”
My hand slides over her foot and up to her calf, and I can hear her sharp intake of breath; “Mayb-”
“There you are!” Reagan jerks her feet away from me at the sound of Donald’s voice behind us as if she’d just had them in hot coals. I frown as I see her relaxed body instantly stiffen back to formal, political Reagan.
“Goddamnit Reagan,” Donald grumbles, storming into the room towards us; “It is not ok to just walk away from mingling with those types of people like that; it sends a bad message.” He glares at me, his eyes narrowing as if trying to suss out why it is Reagan is here alone with me in the dark library.
Good thing you didn’t come knocking fifteen minutes ago, dick, I think to myself.
“What, ‘those type of people’ like Chet Kennedy?” Reagan rolls her eyes as she stands and smooths out her skirt; “I have far more important things to worry about than what dipshits like him think of m-”
“Dammit we talked about this Reagan!” Donald fumes; “I don’t care if Chet Kennedy is literally Adolf Hitler; he tests amazingly well with your target demographic.”
I can see her tensing up, the laid-back and relaxed Reagan of five minutes ago gone as she frowns; “So, what, are you trying to pimp me out for ratings, Donald?”
“You better believe it.”
She stares at him for a second before she shakes her head in disgust; “Fuck you.” She whirls on her heel and storms out of the room.
“Jesus, Donald,” I mutter, standing as well and glowering at him; “I mean she hates the guy-”
“You know, Hudson,” Donald interrupts, his eyes narrowing at me; “I see what you’re doing, and you’re not going to ruin this for me.”
I furrow my brow; “For you?”
“For the campaign.” He mutters, but I know what he means, and it puts me instantly on edge; “We both want the same thing for the campaign, Hudson.”
“For Reagan, you mean.”