The Phoenix Candidate(53)
I cut my eyes to the side, unsure how much to confess. I have Lauren’s command that I cut things off with Jared hanging over my head. I have Darrow dangling the possibility of being a running mate. “It still could be.”
Jared’s expression darkens. “Listen to me, Grace: Darrow isn’t a better option.”
I whip him a look, caught in a lie I’ve never told. Does he know about Darrow? “He might be. Jared, I want to do this. I want to run. There’s so much I could do for this country, and today really brought it home. It made me see.”
“You can’t do it with Darrow,” Jared insists. “He’ll cut the guts out of anything you want to do. He’s got the flash of Hollywood but the depth of a wading pool. So unless you want to pack up your ideals and put them in storage for four years, you’d better not even go there.”
I stand from the couch, angered that Jared’s telling me what to do. He has no right. He’s not my political consultant. He’s for Conover.
Then why is he here with me right now?
“I’ll go where I need to be, Jared, on the best ticket that will get me there.”
“Don’t be stupid, Grace.”
Stupid. The word makes bile rise in my throat. Stupid. It’s the same word I heard growing up too many times, the word that got me the hell out of my fucked-up family and into a scholarship, into law school, and into a life I wanted.
My voice drops dangerously low. “Go to hell.”
I stalk to my front door and pull it open, my expression demanding that Jared leave.
He doesn’t. He takes a sip from his wineglass and closes his laptop.
“Get out of here, Jared, before I pick you up and throw you out.”
He crosses his arms, his eyes crinkling with mirth. Is he fucking laughing at me? “I’d like to see you try.”
I slam my apartment door closed and stomp over to him on the couch, grabbing his hand and tugging, trying to pull him to standing.
He easily outweighs me by fifty or sixty pounds. He doesn’t budge. I’m holding his wrist and I can’t move this beast.
“Fuck you, Jared, for calling me stupid.” I will not cry. I will not.
“I never did.” His tone is light, mild. “I just told you it would be a stupid decision to join Darrow. I know you’re smarter than that. I know you have more character than to go there.”
His gentle words let some of the air out of my anger. “He wants me,” I admit.
“So do I, Grace, but I’ve never asked you to do anything that would violate who you are.”
I arch my brow, hearing his double entendre. “From what you’ve said on the phone, there’s a whole lot of violating you’ve been asking for.”
“And I intend to get it.” He twists his wrist where I hold it, and suddenly my hands are caught between his.
I draw in a sharp breath as Jared’s eyes sweep my body. “I’m still mad at you, you know.”
“For what?” Jared stands, still pinning my hands together, control shifting rapidly to him. “For telling you the truth about Boyle and Darrow? For giving you some friendly advice?”
He bends and draws my earlobe between his teeth, a bite sharp enough to sting.
“That doesn’t feel friendly.”
“It better not. Because tonight what I’m going to do to you is anything but friendly.” His dangerous promise thrills me, sending a shiver down my spine. “I’m going to make up for lost time.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jared drops my hands, his body a foot from mine. Desire radiates off him in waves, and yet he’s more controlled than ever, with none of the frenzied groping from earlier in the elevator.
“Stand there, Grace. Stay still.”
I bite my lip and obey and Jared walks around me, killing the living room light. He comes behind me and pushes my jacket off my shoulders.
“I have an assignment for you.” His hands lift the hair off the back of my neck.
“OK.” My legs are already jelly as I stand in place, wondering what he’ll ask of me.
“I think there are some things you haven’t told me yet.” I open my mouth to protest but he covers my mouth with his hand. “Things you want.”
Want. The word is rich with meaning, heavy with promise.
He breathes on my neck, then inhales against my skin. He releases my mouth and continues a slow torture, brushing his lips across my shoulder, touches so feather-light I strain to feel his stubble scrape my skin.
“I want you to think of all the things you want, Grace. And I want to know them. One. By. One.”
I close my eyes, a flood of dirty thoughts rushing in, my skin flushing with embarrassment. There are too many things I can’t say, too many taboos I can’t break, even just in the telling.