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I lift my hand and rub the small dent between his brows like I have wanted to since the moment I met him, the tension in his head leaving immediately.
“Perfect,” I say quietly, because it’s the truth. I have never felt this good naked ever. I have never felt this good before, during or after sex, period. As Harrison’s eyes sweep across my face, I give him a small smile, one which he returns.
“Good. Me too. Are you sure you are okay after what happened with the table seating?” Harrison asks, referring to his mother and her antics.
“It wasn’t ideal, but it’s fine,” I say, putting up my hand in front of my chest in surrender, wanting to just brush it off and forget about it.
“It is not fine, and it won't happen again,” he grits out, clearly still angry over the incident and grabbing my hand from in front of me.
“Seriously, it is no problem.” I again try to brush it off, as he intertwines our fingers down by our sides. The touch soothes me, any stress or tension I felt now drifting away.
“It is for me. Tell me, why did I see you chatting with the waiters and walking in the kitchen tonight? Did something go wrong?” he asks, his eyebrows crinkling once more. I take in a deep breath and sigh, the hectic night now catching up with me. His thumb strums across my hand and tingles shoot up my arm.
“No. Just finalizing the event. Your mom left early, and I couldn’t find Lillian, so I just did it,” I say with a shrug, starting to feel exhausted. Yet his touch is giving me his strength.
“What a mess...” he murmurs, rubbing his head and remaining quiet for a beat.
“Oscar got the doctor,” he says with a smile, his blue eyes dancing with happiness.
“Yes, I know. That’s great,” I say my smile automatically matching his.
“It is. How was your night, where did you go?” His statement leaves me warm. It is nice to know he was looking for me. That I wasn’t out of sight out of mind.
“I was chatting to Arthur for most of it.” I state coyly. I am so happy about what I’m about to share, and I know he will be too.
He pauses, his brow raising at the look on my face. “And? Any luck?” His eyes are wide, waiting for my answer. I chew on my bottom lip, trying unsuccessfully to hide my grin.
“He is donating one hundred thousand and will be writing a public letter of support tomorrow, which he is going to publish in the newspaper,” I say, not able to help the broad smile that stretches across my face.
“What?” Harrison sits up, shocked, his eyes now wide as his smile turns into his watermelon trademark grin.
“Yep! He can see the good work you will do and is happy to support your campaign.”
“Yes!” he says, grabbing my face and pulling mine up to meet his, catching me in a panty-melting kiss. The movement catches me off guard and I squeal, gripping onto his shoulders for support.
“Beth, that is amazing!” He stops and lowers me back to the bed, as his hand lazily skirts down my neck, over my shoulders, and down my bare body. His face stays mere inches from mine, I feel his hot breath on my lips.
“You’re amazing,” he murmurs, and my pulse speeds up from the way he’s looking into my eyes. I momentarily lose the ability to breathe.
“So are you,” I say honestly, trying to remain calm, but feeling the total opposite.
Lying side by side, we stay quiet for a while, sharing sweet kisses, caressing each other’s bodies, his eyes rarely leaving mine for more than a second.
All is exactly as I could ever dream it to be until my mind starts spinning.
“How are we ever going to hide this, Harrison?” I ask, not wanting this moment to end.
He looks serious for a moment. Deep in thought. “I don’t know. But what I do know is that now I have had a taste, I have no idea how the hell I am supposed to work with you and not want to bend you over my desk every chance I get,” he grumbles, his fingers pressing into my hip.
“But we can’t. We have months of campaigning ahead of us. One small slip-up could mean the end of it all. I don’t want to be the reason you don't win.”
Harrison looks at me, his wrinkle now back. “I don’t want the media to hound you or your father, to interrupt your life, I don’t want you to become a pawn in their game. Because if they get wind of this, then that is what will happen,” he says seriously, his hand moving up to cup my cheek.
“Then we are professional at work...” I say, hoping this means I still get to have him in some way.
“And I have you all to myself behind closed doors...” he finishes, as he leans forward and takes my lips again.
The night is still young, and our poorly thought-out plan is moved to the back of our minds. Our thoughts now only on each other.
