Simple words, but they wrap me in an electric hug. “And I can’t let you sleep on the floor, Mr. Future President.”
Darcy smiles. “Hmm. I like that nickname better than Killjoy.”
“That was a one-time reprieve, Killjoy. But seriously, I can probably curl up on the sofa chair and wake up without a crick in my neck.”
His blue eyes trace me from head to toe, and the electricity in the air hums. “You may be smaller than me, but you’re still tall. Not to mention, youarea princess. A divine one, at that.” He winks, and I get the feeling I am a mouse caught in a trap.
Darcy is toying with me. Flirting with me.
Like foreplay before a wild night of consummatepassion.
I can’t stop myself from eating this moment up, though I know I should douse the blue fire in his eyes with a bucket of water. “We are grown adults who can share a bed for a night. I’ll build my own uncrossable thirty-eighth parallel line. You put so much as a finger across it, you will become a prisoner of the Republic of Hayden.” I wrap my hands around his wrists.
He looks down at my hands holding his wrists, then snaps his eyes back to me. I swear, they are hungry.
“And if I want to be your prisoner?”
Oh. My. Goodness.
“Then cross the line.” I bite my bottom lip, lifting my face to him in challenge.
Without hesitation, he takes back his hands and wraps one arm around my waist, tugging at my braid with the other. He angles me, claiming my mouth with a reverent passion that has me wanting to hit my knees in praise over this handsome, wonderful, delicious man of mine. He tastes like peppermint from the gum he was chewing earlier, and I want more. I deepen the kiss as I bring my hands to rest against his chest, shoving him to the bed.
I crawl on top of his lap, snaking my arms around his neck and gluing myself to him as I lose all my sensibilities at the trace of his tongue against my lips.
Darcy’s phone rings out, and I have half the mind to pick it up and throw it against the wall. We part, breathless and heaving. His lips carry a faint trace of my pink gloss, and a smug joy blossoms at the sight of it. Never taking his smoldering gaze off of me, he answers the phone. “Darcy Marshall.”
The man on the other end of the line is loud enough to know I’ve got to crawl off Darcy’s lap to allow him to take this call. He stands in front of me, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear and kissing my forehead as he so often tenderly does before leaving the room.
In his absence, my head clears, and I feel remorse knowing that if he hadn't gotten that call, I don’t think we would have stopped.
When he comes back, we have to draw a line for the night. There are still so many things we need to talk through before we decide to make our marriage real. All the things we didn’t touch with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole prior to the signatures and the ceremony.
I take advantage of his absence to shower, make sure I’m completely presentable for the night, and to claim my side of the bed. After doing all that, I lay on the firm mattress and do some work on my laptop while I watch the hours tick by, waiting for Darcy to come back through that door. He never returned after his phone call, but I help make his schedules, so I know he is having a one-on-one dinner with the governor tonight.
But when he still hasn’t returned by eleven p.m., I call his phone. It goes straight to voicemail. Worry begins to set in. I call Darcy’s personal assistant, Bennie, and thankfully, he answers and tells me that Darcy is still at the governor’s place.
Knowing he’s safe, sleep tempts me, and I doze off, snuggled in my blankets and leaned against my pillow-made thirty-eighth parallel, imagining I’m wrapped in strong arms and tucked against a lean body I’ve come to love.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Darcy
Aside-sleeper, I see.
She has one leg thrown over a pillow with her hands tucked underneath her face. The way her curls are loose and unkept, sprawled across the pillow, remind me of a lion. Her pink lips, illuminated by the moonlight pouring in through the window, are slightly parted. Her breaths even.
Hayden looks peaceful.
Beautiful.
I lightly touch her perfect lips. Soft and supple. Kissable.
Reminding me of that mind-blowing kiss earlier and tempting me to wake her up to try and reenact it.
Feeling more like a creeper than ever before, I yank my hand away from her lips. She stirs this time, and I freeze in place.
Hayden grumbles, then says, “Killjoy?”
