“Deeper. Please, deeper, Bryce.”
My grip tightened on her hands, my muscles strung tighter than an arrow at trying to control myself, hovering just inside, not nearly enough… “I won’t come inside you, Juliette. As much as I want to, I won’t tonight. But I’m clean, it’s only you who’s consumed my head. No one has ever gotten inside me like you have.”
“Don’t stop, Bryce. Oh God.” Her hips rotated against mine, and my lips locked around one of her nipples as I gradually drove my dick deeper inside her sweet body. I was sure I was touching heaven in this moment. Feeling her come alive underneath me was a gift I’d never give back.
“There’s so much more where this comes from, beautiful.” I shoved deeper, breaking the barrier that’d locked me out.
She was mine.
All mine.
I loosened our locked hands, thrusting my fingers into her hair and tugging her lips to mine in a possessive kiss. “Mine.”
SEVEN
Juliette
Bryce and I had watched the sun come up, the gorgeous golden rays lighting his room and my life on fire.
Everything about him felt like a dream. His attentiveness to my every need, always keeping an eye on me, even so much as pressing a hand to my back when we walked.
Just that touch drove me to the moon and back with low, simmering lust.
We’d both groaned when we’d dragged ourselves out of bed, but sharing a shower first thing in the morning, pressed against his hard body with his cock filling me, made getting out of bed a little better. Suddenly, I’d found myself closing my eyes and living the fairy tale with him. What would it look like if I stayed here? If we went to work together? Could I really be the girlfriend of the prime minister? Something about it seemed so cheap to describe what we had. And for that matter, I didn't even know what he wanted. He hadn’t mentioned a thing about it since last night.
But a girl could close her eyes and dream, especially when a gorgeous man was trailing his lips across her neck right at that very moment…
“You’ve got a meeting with the president of Chile in two minutes. I should leave.”
Bryce lavished kisses across my jawline, sliding a hand down the front of my dress and tucking his fingers into the neckline. “Fuck him. I’m only interested in a one-on-one with you.”
“You already pushed him back after this morning. I’m not sure he’s a very patient man.” My arms went around his neck on instinct, unable to help my body’s reaction when I was so near to him.
A low rumble escaped his chest, forehead falling to mine as he huffed, “Fine. Fifteen minutes, then we’re ditching.”
“Is the prime minister allowed to ditch?”
Bryce shrugged. “My schedule’s clear for the next few hours. And I’ve suddenly found a new favorite pastime.”
“Which is?”
His teeth nipped at my ear. “Making you come.”
Just then, a gentle tap came at the door. Bryce grinned down at me before landing a soft smack on my ass. A shiver coursed through me, and suddenly, I’d never been more irritated than I was with the president of Chile for interrupting my time with the prime minister. Just a few more minutes…
“Come in,” Bryce called, and his sentry pushed open the door, a forced smile on her face. “The president is here, Prime Minister, sir.”
“Thank you.” He held out a hand, shaking the stocky man’s hand. “Ms. Alexandre was just leaving. Wait outside for me, if you would.” He winked at me, a small grin twitching his lips and flipping my insides.
I nodded subtly, backing out of the prime minister’s office and leaving the two men to their discussion. I glanced around the surprisingly quiet hallway, only a few members of the security team standing by, both of the prime minister’s and the president’s. I trailed down the hall, wondering why Bryce might want me to hang around, and stopped to sit on an antique chair positioned in one corner. I fished out my phone, scrolling through the latest in my news feed, trying to kill time.
I briefly thought about running downstairs, maybe spending a few minutes working at my desk. Bryce knew exactly where he could find me, but then again, something didn’t feel right about leaving when the prime minister expressly told me to stay. He was my boss, after all.
I paused on a local news story in my feed about poverty levels and unemployment in Canadian inner cities and bookmarked it, making a mental note to run some ideas I had by Bryce. I had a feeling he’d want to do anything he could to make a difference. Bryce Gallagher had run an entire campaign on moral integrity. He was the all-Canadian boy, high school hockey player, camp counselor, and prime minister of the country by the age of thirty-four. Canada’s youngest prime minister in history. He was a golden boy, and my body still tingled from all the places he’d gilded me with his hands last night.