“That’s disgusting.”
His drawl drops to a whisper. “I know.”
“She used you and so you wanted to use me?”
“No. She controlled me, and I thought I’d finally gotten out of her orbit. But when I met you, I wanted you … and I wanted that control.”
“I’m not a pawn, Jared.”
“I know.” His voice breaks, a flood of regret.
That’s when I see what’s changed between us: maybe he did want to control me at first. But now? Now he’s crossed into wanting more, wanting me. And a kiss would tip the balance of power.
“Also, I don’t believe you.” I cross my arms, preparing for a fight. “As bossy as you are, if you think you’re just doing a head-trip on me like your last relationship, you’re wrong. I know where I stand.”
He turns to face me, finally, his eyes swimming with confusion. “You think I’m not controlling you?”
“I’m not doing what you want. I’m doing what I want. I won’t be controlled.” I lay my hand on his shoulder and he flinches. “You can recommend, but you can’t require.”
Jared springs from the couch like I’ve just hit him. “I have to require it, Grace. We can’t do some soft compromise. This election is war, and if I can’t be sure you’ll follow every demand, every requirement, I can’t be sure of you. I can’t be sure we’ll win!”
The conviction in his voice guts me. He sees in black and white, laser-focused on the certainty of his mission. Either I get on the bus, or I’ll be roadkill.
Jared stalks to the back of my apartment and I feel the rush of air as he passes.
I drop my head in my hands and massage my scalp. I should hate him for this. For coming into this relationship with some twisted agenda, for thinking he could play me as surely as he’s been played. I should hate him for this, but I don’t.
I understand him.
I finally know what makes him tick. Guilt. Regret. Power, taken by whatever means. And work, his only constant. Winning isn’t a job for him, it defines him, and when our connection shifted from leader and follower to something far more complex, I became his biggest liability.
I’m a risk.
And so I go to Jared, finding him drying his face on my bathroom towel, his eyes rimmed red, his hair tangled and damp.
I pull his chest against mine, my arms crossing behind his neck, and bring my lips to his ear. “I forgive you,” I whisper.
Jared’s body stiffens, but I pull him tighter. “I forgive you. I forgive you for starting this so wrong. But you can make it right. It was a mistake. I understand that.”
Jared’s shoulders slump. “If I can’t control you, we can’t win this.”
“But if you keep trying to control me, you’ll lose me entirely.” I pull him behind me toward my bedroom. “Take a risk, Jared. See what happens when you let go of the reins.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
This time, it isn’t rushed. It isn’t frenzied and fueled by lust and anger and mind-blowing dirty talk.
It’s sweet and sad and slow. It’s what we both need.
To heal. To be whole.
As our bodies join, as my limbs remember the precise fit to lock us together, the simple, strong rhythm of our rocking hips, I know we must be doing something more than just sex.
This could be making love.
Could be.
Jared keeps his face turned away from mine, his mouth on my neck, his eyes closed in the darkness of my bedroom. I glide my hands across the muscles of his shoulders, kneading, following the cadence of his hips as he moves inside me.
My fingers thread through the short, soft hair at the back of his head, pulling him closer as I wrap myself around him—legs around his hips, arms around his shoulders, his length buried inside me as I hold him there, too.
Our breathing quickens and I know he’s getting close. I grab his ass in both hands, loving the strength in these muscles, the power that drives him harder inside me.
I cry out when he touches the place that lights my orgasm like a firecracker, the fuse burning bright and hot, rapidly toward its destination.
I detonate. And as my body coils and releases, my climax washing across my skin, I feel him meet my climax with his own. His grunts, his sharp thrusts, his groan as he empties himself inside me; all are tinged with bittersweet need.
It is comfort amid fear and shifting sands. It speaks to healing and fulfillment and safety. All in one. All in one simple act. All in who we are together.
***
“The next part of vetting doesn’t look at who you are now, it looks at who you were. Were you a Supreme Court law clerk, or a beauty pageant winner, or a llama farmer?”