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Chris huffed a laugh and squeezed Jamie. “I definitely adore you more than just a little bit, too,” he replied.
Jamie smiled into Chris’s T-shirt as those fingernails continued to scrape over his head, relaxing him a little more.
“I can’t let you stay here,” Jamie whispered regretfully.
“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” Chris replied, his answer firm.
Jamie nodded and snuggled close, listening to the steady beat of Chris’s heart, matching the rhythm of the fingers in his hair and the soothing rise and fall of his chest. He didn’t even remember falling asleep.
* * * *
It was another thirty-six hours before Chris could touch Jamie again.
He had stayed for an hour after Jamie had fallen asleep before gently easing away and back to his own bed, leaving Boomer in his place. He’d been worried—Jamie hadn’t had a nightmare in almost two weeks, which was the longest he’d gone without one. Chris felt as though it had been his fault, because he hadn’t been there during the night, hadn’t held him close as they had fallen asleep, and Jamie’s demons had come back.
He knew he couldn’t think like that, but still he felt horribly guilty when Jamie had made it down the stairs in the morning, eyes red-rimmed and manner subdued. And the worst thing was that Chris couldn’t kiss him, couldn’t hold him. He couldn’t even touch him without giving everything away. It was torture.
The only thing he could do was follow the president and her son as they went about their business—lunch at a country club with Freddie Barratt’s old friends, the theatre with Helen, who winked at Chris and made a point to give his bicep an affectionate squeeze, and dinner with a couple of old political allies.
Natalie was with him, though, constantly on her PDA or on the phone. She was the only one who could touch them both without it being strange or over-familiar and was constantly going back and forth between Chris and Jamie, rubbing a shoulder or squeezing an arm every now and then as she passed, trying to keep them connected. Chris had never appreciated her as much in the whole two years he had known her.
Aunt Helen was also a gem. She made a fuss over Jamie during the theatre, smoothing his hair back from his face and kissing him tenderly on the cheek whenever his mother’s attention was diverted. Helen was obviously giving her support and trying not to let her sister-in-law see, in case any awkward questions were asked.
It was just after dinner when Natalie received a phone call and moved away, only to turn on her heel and run back into the room, thrusting the phone under the president’s nose.
Five minutes later, President Barratt was packing up to leave. “I’m really sorry sweetie,” she said to Jamie as Natalie rushed around in the background, gathering up important papers and sliding them into the laptop bag on the kitchen counter. “There has been an incident in Oman, and I need to get back to Washington immediately.”
Jamie threw a glance in Chris’s direction before replying. “That’s okay, Mom,” he replied, trying his best to sound slightly disappointed. “It’s important, I’ll survive.”
“Are you sure?” the president asked, accepting the jacket handed to her by Natalie. “I know I promised that we’d spend a few days together…”
“Mother, it’s an international crisis. I’m not a child—I can deal with you going back to work early!” Jamie gave her his most charming smile and she laughed, pulling him into a hug.
“I’ll see you in a few days then?”
“Of course!” he called after her as Natalie ran past, laden with luggage.
The Secret Service bundled them into the car, and within moments, all three cars were driving down the gravel driveway, Jamie still waving at the door. “Finally,” he murmured.
Chris felt his body surge forward, crossing the hallway to the door in seconds to pin Jamie against it, hands grasping his waist as Jamie’s hands went immediately into Chris’s hair, fingers tightening as their mouths crushed together.
They kissed roughly, all tongues and teeth, sucking and biting, gasping as their hands battled with shirt buttons and belts and their feet kicked off shoes.
“Oh, God, Chris,” Jamie moaned. “Get me to a bed right now.”
“It would be my genuine pleasure,” Chris replied, stripping Jamie’s shirt from him and tossing it to the floor before sliding his hands down to Jamie’s thighs, pulling him up and wrapping Jamie’s legs around his waist.
Chris made his way down the hall, kissing Jamie as he carried him, but quickly came to the realization that he would never make it up the stairs like this. He let him down at the bottom step and pulled Jamie behind him before guiding him into the bedroom and pushing him onto the bed.
Chris shimmied off his pants and underwear as Jamie did the same, then climbed onto the bed and resumed his attack on Jamie’s mouth.
They had gone three days with the bare minimum of touch when they had been so used to sleeping next to each other every night, used to kissing, caressing, and touching almost whenever they liked. Chris was desperate—he wanted his hands all over Jamie’s body, his mouth covering every inch; he didn’t want to take his time…he was starved.
Jamie was already rutting against him, hard flesh pressing into each other’s bellies and sliding against each other. Chris possessively sank his teeth into Jamie’s shoulder, making him cry out and pull at Chris’s hair, fingers twisting and yanking hard, his thighs widening and legs wrapping around Chris’s back.
“Christ,” Jamie breathed. “I need you inside me right now. Right fucking now.”
Chris gasped in response, hand already reaching for the bottle of gel on the bedside table.
