She blushes. “It would be an honor,” she says and starts to chew on her bottom lip.
I lean against the counter with my arms crossed and scan the room while she pounds away at the keyboard.
“Are there two bedrooms in the suite?”
Fuck. I didn’t think of that.There’s no way I want Carl staying with me. I have one plan during my stay, and it’s to sneak away and spend time with Reagan.
“No,” she says quickly. “Your room is on the floor below Mr. Titan.”
Carl starts to mutter under his breath about bullshit and respect. I don’t bother to add my two cents, because he’s right where I want him—far enough away that I can have some privacy.
“Here are your keys.”
Carl nudges me and holds out my plastic keycard with the number 1011 on the paper holder. Just as I grab it from him, I see her. Walking through the revolving door with her hair blowing in the breeze is Reagan Preston, and standing in the door behind her is Tom Harbor.
She glances up from her phone and catches sight of me, but she doesn’t react besides a small smirk. Tom moves to walk beside her and grabs her arm, stopping her from coming any closer.
My body tenses and I take a step forward, but I stop when her eyes widen and lock with mine. The way he’s putting his hands on her makes my blood boil. Even if there’s something going on between them and I’m being played, he’s being too aggressive for my liking. Tom’s face is tight, and his lips are barely moving as he speaks to her.
“Can you please have our bags delivered?” Carl asks Melinda.
I turn to face them because it’s the only way I can stop myself from marching over and knocking Harbor on his ass. I can see the headline now: “Titan takes down The Barber,” and it would probably ruin my campaign because I’d be portrayed as a maniac.
I bend down and grab my bag. “I’ll get my own, thank you, Melinda.”
She smiles brightly and her cheeks pink. “You’re welcome, Mr. Titan.”
Carl walks away without so much as a thank-you and gets a glimpse of Reagan just as I start to follow behind him. He glances over his shoulder, catching me staring at her as I walk.
“It’s between them, Jude. Don’t get involved,” Carl tells me as if he can read my mind.
“Even if she’s the enemy, no one should touch a woman like that, Carl. No one.”
“It’s not our business. It’s probably a lover’s quarrel.” His last statement is almost a punch to the gut.
But itismy business. When it comes to Reagan, especially if someone is putting his hands on her, it becomes my business. I have this overwhelming need to claim her and mark her as mine.
It’s beenthree hours since I checked in and still nothing from Reagan besides a text telling me that she was fine and would text me later.
I’ve already worked out, had something to eat, and am starting to wear a pattern into the tan Berber carpet of my suite. Carl excused himself for the night, heading to the bar across the street to meet with some local Republican bigwigs. I told him I wasn’t feeling up to it and needed to get my head in the game for tomorrow.
After what feels like my hundredth lap around the living room, I pull out my phone and type Reagan a message.
Me: Coast is clear.
Before the message sends, there’s a knock. I almost jog to the door and press my eye against the peephole. I see Reagan outside with a hoodie pulled down so low I can barely see her sunglasses-covered face.
I open the door and pull her inside, pushing her up against the wall and letting the door slam. “What took you so long?” Without giving her a chance to answer, I crush my lips against hers and wrap my arms around her body, pulling her close.
She melts into me and snakes her arms over my shoulders, digging her fingertips into the base of my hair. Her breathy moans match mine as we feed each other air, tangling our tongues together with hunger.
My arms are holding her tightly against me as she lifts her legs, wrapping them around my waist and grinding on my hardened dick.
Even though I want to talk to her, I can’t bring myself to break our kiss. It has been too long since I’ve tasted the sweetness of her mouth and reveled in her softness.
Her hands pull at my shirt and slide underneath. My moans grow louder when her fingernails scrape down my back, sending tiny shockwaves throughout my system. My hand finds the base of her hoodie, and I start to pull it up, needing to feel our skin touching.
We both lean back, and I pull her hoodie off with one hand as she’s clawing at mine. Her sunglasses get tangled in her hoodie and fall to the floor with our clothes before our lips find each other’s again without skipping a beat.
