“Does this feel serious to you?”
“I’m not becoming your campaign-trail fucktoy.”
“No, you’re becoming my girlfriend. I need you there with me, Reagan. Your experience, your support…all of you.”
The thought of campaigning with Jude makes me smile. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. But before we make this official, any skeletons in your closet I need to be aware of?”
My heart sinks as I remember the one thing I haven’t told him yet. “I slept with Tom Harbor.”
His muscles tighten again. “When?”
“Um…nine years ago. He told me he was separated from his wife, but he lied.”
Jude lets out a deep breath. “Fuck. I thought you meant in the last couple days. I already know about the thing nine years ago.”
“You do? And you didn’t tell me?”
He shrugs. “I knew it would stress you out to know my campaign knew. And I never would have used the information.”
I nod. “Any skeletons in your closet?”
“Nothing you don’t already know about. My bad dreams and survivor guilt from combat service may be permanent—I don’t know yet.”
I feel a tug in my heart for this man who has come to mean so much to me in a very short time. “If you ever want to talk about it, ornottalk about it…I’m here.”
He reaches up to my cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “I know. And I want you to stay that way. The party establishment and news stories don’t mean shit to me, Reagan. It’s you I care about—and making a difference for all the brothers who need a voice in DC.”
“My father will think I’ve switched parties,” I say softly. “And that gives me great satisfaction.”
“You’re gonna need to let go of all that in time, you know. Don’t let him keep any hold on you.”
“You’re right.”
“Get used to it.”
God, I love that smirk. It sets me on fire. When Jude lowers his lips to mine, I meet him halfway. Our soft kiss quickly becomes more. I let the sensations sweep me under: his strong hands on my hips, his muffled groan as I lie down on the bed and he lowers himself onto me, the mingling lust and adoration I see in his eyes.
“I love you,” I say softly in his ear. “So much, Jude.”
“I love you, too. You’ll always come first with me.”
I smile. “When you saycome first, do you mean that figuratively?”
His laugh is low and sexy. “I mean it both figuratively and literally, baby.”
My response becomes a moan as he rotates his hips against mine. The man really knows how to get me going.
“I think we should stay in here for at least the next twenty-four hours,” he says, his breath warm on my neck.
He kisses my collarbone, and I wrap my legs around his waist. “That sounds incredible. You know, you should really be making the rounds on the TV circuit. They’ll all want to interview you about me dropping out.”
“They can fuck off. I’m not leaving this room ’til tomorrow.”
“Mmm.”
He’s pulled my shirt up and over my head and is kissing his way down to my stomach. I run my fingertips over his scalp, pulling gently on his hair. He groans against my skin.
