“Thank you, Agent Torres.” Her voice is back to steady. Presidential. How the fuck is her voice steady? “I’ll be right there.”
He nods once and disappears back inside.
We stare at each other.
“This is insane,” she finally says. Our eyes, unable to break contact. A small smile still on her delicious mouth.
“I don’t care.”
The smile turns bittersweet. “Levi…”
“I don’t care, Lina.” I close the distance between us again and cup her face in my large hands. “I don’t care how crazy this is. I don’t care how complicated it is. I want you. I’ve wanted you for longer than I should admit. And I know you want me too.”
Her eyes search mine. “And then what? Where does this go?”
I slowly shake my head. “I don’t know, baby.” I brush my thumb over her cheekbone. “But I’d like to find out.”
She closes her eyes, takes a breath. Then reopens them, nodding decisively.
“The quarterfinal,” she says. “If you win, I’ll be there.”
“And after?”
“After…” She reaches up and straightens my bow tie with a small smile and another headshake. “We’ll figure it out.”
Then she steps back out of my arms. And I let her go, even if everything in me is screaming to pull her back.
She pauses at the door, looking over her shoulder, giving me that glance. That fucking look-back I’ve been thinking about since the first time she did it.
“Good luck, Coach.”
Then she’s gone. And I stand on the White House balcony with my heart pounding, lips still tingling from the taste of my woman, hard as a motherfucker. And I start to laugh.
Six
Lina
I kissed him. I kissed Levi Hendricks on the balcony of the White House while a state dinner happened twenty feet away.
What the hell is wrong with me?!
I’m lying in bed, staring at the ceiling of the presidential residence, replaying every second of that kiss like a crazy person. His hand in my hair. His mouth on mine. The way hegroanedagainst my lips like he’d been waiting his whole life for that moment. The way he backed me up against the railing and pressed his body into mine, and I could feelexactlyhow much he wanted me…
Oh God.
I press my hands to my face.
You are forty-four years old. You are the President of the United States. You do not make out on balconies during state dinners like some horny teenager!
But I did. I absolutely did. And it was… the best damn kiss of my life.
I was married for twelve years. I’ve dated. I’ve had men. I know what a good kiss feels like. This was not a good kiss. This was afucking experience.
The way Levi’s tongue stroked against mine. How his hand tightened on my waist, pulling me closer like he couldn’t get enough. The way he growled, fuckinggrowled…
I’m wet just thinking about it.
This is a problem.
