I tear my gaze away and start greeting players.Congratulations, great game, the country is proud.The words come automatically, leaving my brain free to track his location at all times.
He’s getting closer. Working his way toward me through the crowd. I can feel him approaching in my very bones.
And then he’s there.
“Madam President.”
His voice cuts through the noise, low and gravelly, and my whole body tightens. I turn. Levi’s right in front of me now. Close enough that I can smell him: sweat and something clean, masculine, and warm. Close enough that I can see the flush on his cheeks, the rapid pulse at his throat.
“Congratulations, Coach.” My voice is steady, professional. “Impressive performance.”
He tilts his head, and there’s something in his eyes: amusement, heat, challenge.
“I thought we agreed on Levi.”
Oh.
My face warms and my smile spreads so much, my cheeks hurt. And I know he can see it. Iknowhe’s watching for it.
This fucking man.
“Did we?” I manage through my beaming smile.
Levi nods, all tall, broad, and stupidly handsome. “We did.” He steps closer, by just half a step, nothing too obvious or that could get my security detail alarmed, but suddenly the space between us feels tiny. “My friends call me Levi. And I’d like us to be friends, Madam President.”
A short, breathy laugh escapes my lips. The way he saidfriends…it’s like the word is a placeholder for something else altogether.
I’m going to come, is the insane thought that crosses my mind.
“Lina.” The word is out before I can stop it. Levi’s eyes flash. Something shifts in his expression, dark, hungry.
“Lina,” he repeats, and my name in his mouth is the most erotic thing I’ve ever heard. A low rumble, like he’s tasting it. Like he’s been waiting to say it.
I can’t fucking breathe.
“Can I please walk you out?” he asks. “I’d hate for this to be the last time I see you.”
That’s not subtle. Not at all.
I huff out another short laugh, shaking my head. “That’s not really protocol, Coach.”
His full lips hook up at one corner into a smile I’m fucking dying to taste. “I know.” He doesn’t look away. “I’m asking, anyway.”
Ishouldsay no, smile politely, let my security team escort me back to the motorcade and forget this entire surreal interaction.
Instead, I hear myself say: “Okay.” Still smiling, looking up at him, his expression matching mine…
Then we’re walking. The Secret Service trails at a respectful distance around us, close enough to intervene if need be, far enough to give us the illusion of privacy. The tunnel gets quieteras we move away from the celebration. Our footsteps echoing on the concrete.
“So,” Levi says, glancing down at me. God, he’s tall… “What did you actually think of the game?”
I put on my serious face, nodding. “I thought it was impressive. Our team played…”
“No.” He shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his dreamy lips. “That’s a politician’s answer. I want a real one.”
I laugh out loud and stop walking. He stops too, turning to face me. Studying me. Still grinning.
He’s asking me to be real. Not the president. Just me. Wow…When’s the last time anyone did that?
