He curls his lip and narrows his eyes. “You think you can get to her?”
“She’s easy to rattle. You saw her at the last debate. You said this one is critical. Why not use our location to our advantage?” I’m grasping at straws, because I want to be closer to Reagan. I know if Carl thinks I’m using it as part of my game plan, he’ll be all for it.
“It could work,” he says, brushing his graying hair off his forehead.
“It will work. Now tell me about the rest of the week.”
He rattles on about rallies and small, town hall meetings that he’s scheduled for the entire week. I nod my head every few seconds, pretending I’m listening as I type a message to Reagan.
Me: I hear we’re going to be roomies again.
She doesn’t reply right away, and I turn my attention to Instagram to find out what’s being said about me. But the first image I see is of her. She’s laughing about something and looks relaxed.
But the thing in the photo that catches my attention the most isn’t her beauty—it’s Tom. He’s behind her with that watchful eye, standing entirely too close.
Her message flashes at the top of my screen.
Boo: Peoria?
I close Instagram, but not before I save the photo of Reagan to my phone and send her a reply.
Me: Yeah. It could be fun.
Boo: Or a complete disaster.
Me: Y?
Boo: Tom’s always watching me.
Me: I noticed.
My hand grips the phone tighter, and I punch in another message.
Me: I’m sure Lexi can keep him busy for a few moments.
Boo: Let’s hope.
Me: I need to taste you.
I have to adjust myself after thinking about touching her again. She’s replaced my nightmares most nights, chasing them away with dreams of the future.
Boo: Me too… Gotta run. Chat later.
“Jude, are you listening to a thing I’m saying?”
I glance up to an annoyed Carl with his head cocked and arms crossed. I smile, tossing my phone to the seat. “My head’s in the game. Keep going. You have my full attention.”
He talks while I daydream of Reagan. Her naked. Her moans. Her tiny breaths as I taste her skin. She invades my thoughts with fantasies I plan to make realities in a few short days.
“What floor isthe Preston team staying on?” Carl asks the front desk manager at the ritziest hotel in Peoria.
She continues typing on her computer and doesn’t bother to look up. “I can’t answer that, sir.”
I’m barely able to stand still and keep my eyes on anything but the lobby of the hotel. Each dark-haired woman walking through the elegant hotel is Reagan until I see their faces. “Carl, it really doesn’t matter which floor we’re on. I just want a room to relax and prep for tomorrow.”
“We have very limited availability in the hotel this evening, and your room has already been assigned.” She glances up just as I turn. She smiles as her eyes roam over the part of my body that’s visible above the front desk. “But I can see about upgrading you to a suite, Mr. Titan.”
“That would be wonderful.” I lean forward and get a better view of her name tag. “Melinda.”
