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“Not for you. Tell Brant what you want to do, and he’ll make it happen. Stop worrying about putting them out. That’s their job—to make it so you can do what you want.”
“That’s true, and you’re right that I spend too much time worrying about inconveniencing them.”
“We’ll work on your mindset shift when we return. But for now…” She pushed against him suggestively. “Are we for or against Beast sex?”
“I’m scared there might be cameras.”
Again, she froze. “For real?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
“How can we find out?”
“We could ask Brant, but that’d be the same as saying, ‘Hey, Brant. We want to have sex back here. Is anyone watching?’”
“And you’d be opposed to coming right out and asking him that?”
He gave her a look that said,Seriously?
“What? He knows we have sex. Hell, the whole world knows that. Exhibit A:Saturday Night Live.”
“Funniest thing ever.” He hummed the tune to “My Humps” by the Black Eyed Peas, which had become their anthem on the comedy show, much to her horror and his amusement.
Sam smacked him on the shoulder. “No, it wasn’t.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Are we going to fight about that or have Beast sex?”
“You can’t ever say the words ‘Beast sex’ outside of this vehicle. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Mr. President. The mood for Beast sex is slipping away…”
“Please hold.” He raised the cover of the center console and pulled out a phone she’d never noticed before. “Random question for you, Brant. Are there cameras back here?” He listened to whatever Brant was saying while Sam basically gave him a lap dance that had the fingers on his free hand digging into her hip. “Okay, got it. Thanks.”
“What’s the verdict?”
“There’re cameras, but they’re used only in an emergency, not during routine conveyance.”
Sam shivered dramatically. “I love when you say things like ‘routine conveyance.’”
“I love when you lap-dance me when I’m on the phone.”
“I can do that more often, if you’d like.”
“I’d like.” He unbuttoned her blouse and freed her breasts from the black lace bra she’d bought for the trip.
“Someone has been doing some shopping, I see.”
She could barely think, let alone speak, when he touched her breasts and ran his thumbs over her nipples. “Perhaps.”
“You’re the sexiest first lady in history.”
“I have nothing on Eleanor Roosevelt.”
He snorted with laughter.
“Her brain was sexy.”
