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“I take it you liked that?” she teased.
“I fucking loved that,” he replied.
“Such language, Mr. President.”
He grinned. “Do you think it would be politically incorrect for me to add that I love your tits too?”
“Definitely not PC, but thank you.”
He shook his head and his face sobered. “No. Thank you, Noelle. This past year has been hectic, crazy. Talking to you, well, it saved me.”
She pulled his face to hers, initiating a soft, long kiss. He’d done the same for her, but she’d never be able to thank him enough, never be able to express it. Then, when he deepened the kiss, she realized sometimes words just weren’t necessary.
Chapter Three
The holiday weekend passed far too quickly for Noelle. She and Tom enjoyed a private dinner in the room with Ross and Julia, who surprisingly managed to hold her tongue about all things political for the entire evening. The rest of the time they spent alone—in quiet conversation or in bed.
Noelle lay with her head on Tom’s chest, trying to push down the worry of leaving him the next day. As he’d promised, they’d spent the entire time avoiding the conversation she knew they had to have now. Before she could speak, he moved. Gently pushing her to her back, he leaned over and kissed her.
“I suggested we spend the holidays together for a couple of reasons. I wanted to meet you face to face, to explain to you why I have to—” He paused and she smiled sadly.
“Why you have to say goodbye,” she finished for him.
“In a few weeks, my emails, my phone calls become public record. I knew this would be hard, Noelle. I just didn’t know how fucking hard.”
She could see the pain in his eyes, felt it in her heart. “The president isn’t allowed to date?”
He laughed mirthlessly. “Who the hell knows? I have the distinct privilege of being the first single president. I don’t want you to think I don’t want to keep seeing you. I want it more than my next breath, but I would never do that to you. Asking you to continue seeing me would make me the most selfish bastard on earth.”
“Why?”
“You’d be plunged under a microscope. Your every move, every outfit, every word analyzed and dissected. Your history would be dredged up for public consumption. You’d be hounded by paparazzi day and night.”
“Damn, Tom. You really need to stop sugar-coating it.” She meant her words as joke, desperate to bring back the lightness that had filled his face all weekend.
He shrugged, but didn’t smile.
“What do you want?” she asked. “Pretend for a minute, nothing you said matters. What would you want if you could have anything?”
“I’d want to keep seeing you. I’d want you to go to the Inaugural Ball with me and I’d want you in my bed every night.”
“Are presidents allowed to sleep with women they aren’t married to in the White House?” she joked.
“They’ve done it before.”
They laughed together and Noelle was happy to see her funny friend reemerge. He was facing four years of a long, hard road and suddenly, her path seemed clear.
“I want to keep seeing you too.”
“Noelle, I wasn’t kidding about how hard—”
She halted his words, placing her fingers against his lips. “I only have one worry. I don’t want to do anything that would hurt your career. I mean, I haven’t lived a spotless life. I didn’t get great grades in school. My husband wasn’t my first lover. I mean if any of that came up—”
It was his turn to stop her. He kissed her and smiled. “You won’t hurt my career. You’re smart and funny and good. That’s all that matters.”
“I don’t want to rush anything just because of your job. I mean, despite our long distance friendship, we’ve really only known each other a weekend. Dating might be tricky, but—”
“I understand,” he said. “And I agree. We’ll just take it a day at a time. However, I’ll talk to the head of the Secret Service, see if you qualify for protection. I couldn’t live with myself if someone hurt you to get to me.”
