“Sir, your flight to D.C. leaves in an hour. The car is ready when you are.”
Slade doesn’t move from where he’s pinned me to the bookshelf and holds my gaze. “I don’t have to leave until 4:00 a.m.”
Edmond clears his throat. “Itisfour in the morning, sir.”
He pushes up his frames with his middle finger while his eyes stay lingering on me. “I’ll be there in a minute, Edmond.”
Just like that, a hollow pit drops in my stomach. I shouldn’t feel let down, but the disappointment still comes. More time without him here. Edmond dips back out, and I fight a yawn. I didn’t realize how tired I was.
Slade offers me a weary smile.
“D.C., huh?” I ask, breaking eye contact and focusing on the missing door to his bathroom. Something squeezes in my chest.
“I’ve been called into session. I should be back for a long weekend. They’ll push hard until we break for August.” He turns my face toward him. “I don’t want to leave you. Especially not now.”
“Sometimes … I don’t think I’ll ever get to … leave.” I frown, lips pressing together. My words are slow, and I blink, tired.
He cups the side of my face, and I nuzzle into his palm. Then he slips both arms beneath me, one under my knees, the other cradling my back, and my feet fly off the ground.
My stomach lurches as my body’s made weightless. My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as he moves across his bedroom and out the door. “What are you doing?” My voice echoes along the openness of the mezzanine.
“Putting you to bed.” He steps with ease down the stairs, and the air is cool along my backside and thighs. He nestles me close to his chest, and the smell of him wafts around me, lulling me into a comforting warmth. Such care, such a supportive embrace—I smile into him.
Through the stillness of the living room and darkness of the hallway, he makes it to my bedroom where he nudges the door open with his knee. When he reaches my bed, he bends enough to lower me into the sheets. The mattress dips, and he pulls the covers up and over me, then brushes my messy hair away from my face. My eyelids flutter, wanting to close but not wanting to miss the last of his face.
My heart unravels when he leans over me, fingers gliding along the curve of my head from temple to nape like he’s memorizing me. He tucks a few loose curls behind my ear. He’s tentative and soft as he lowers his mouth and presses his lips to my forehead. His kiss is firm, yet it lingers, and something in my chest tightens. This is more than obsession; this is dangerouslyclose to devotion. I let my eyes fall closed, worried tears might slip from the corners of them.
“Sleep, Thea. I’ll see you when I get back.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m left wondering how it all changed so fast.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SLADE
When I get off the plane in D.C. I’m immediately pissed. There’s a book in the airport with a dandelion on the front cover, and I’m not even on the ground longer than five minutes before my thoughts already shuffle to her. I wish she could’ve come. I want to experience more with her, but Echelon Vanguard is in my way.
Elliot mumbles over the agenda for today, but I can’t shake the damn weed from my mind. What is it that Thea wants out of life? She’s hesitant and reserved when it comes to her personal life. I haven’t heard her speak much about her deadbeat father, or the mother I know she lost. She might be upset to know I dug into her, that I know her major is undeclared, and that she’s refused meeting after meeting with her academic advisor. I have a sneaking suspicion it’s to do with her mother, or maybe the ominous boyfriend she’s mentioned. I didn’t miss that.
My desire for Thea has trickled well past obsession. I care about her more than I’ve cared for anyone.
The day moves forward, and I’m surrounded by more assholes than usual. Power-hungry politicians who only have their own agendas, not those of their constituents. The sad part is that more than half of them belong to Echelon Vanguard insome capacity, in their own cities and states. At times, it’s hard to wrap my mind around how far EV’s reach really goes.
Several days pass, and my hope to return home for the weekend vanishes.
Then it’s Monday, and Elliot and I work in my office several blocks from the Capitol. My third office, and the one I hate the most.
I’m supposed to be working during our lunch. Elliot had salads delivered for us and the staff. The briefing packet open in front of me is marked-up—some transportation bill I have to pretend to care about in the hearing tomorrow, but I haven’t turned a page in twenty minutes, and the wilting spinach hanging off my fork turns my stomach.
What is she doing? I can’t focus. I stare out the glass window while those around me drone on about the bill, but I keep thinking about the way she looked the last time I saw her. She was unafraid of me, even though I threw a tantrum in a fit of anger. She kissed me. The way she kissed me, as if she wanted me too. She was disappointed when I told her I had to go away.
An ache stirs behind my ribs, and I push my lunch away, yanking the bottled water off my desk and downing that instead.
Elliot looks at me. “How about a break? Want to take five?”
I look up, and Elliot gives me a half smile. I nod and pull out my phone as my staffers leave the room.
I text Edmond.
