“Handled it?” His fist slammed the table, the crack like a gunshot. “You think this is just about you? Every time you hide something, every time you make me look like the last to know, it rips into my patch, into my word. That’s the one thing I can’t afford, Lucy. Not once. Not ever.”
The anger wasn’t about weakness, I realised. It was about power. About the weight of being president.
My voice came out smaller than I’d meant. “I didn’t want to be another problem you had to fix.”
He stopped pacing. His eyes burned, not softer but sharper. “If I lose you because you thought you had to carry this alone...” His jaw flexed, voice breaking for a second, “I won’t survive it.”
My chest squeezed tight. He wasn’t only furious—he was terrified.
“You think you can stand in this world without me?” he yelled, stepping closer.
My lips parted, truth spilling before I could stop it. “No. I think I can stand in itwithyou.”
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. The truth sat between us, jagged and dangerous.
His chest rose hard, fire still in his eyes, but the kind that burned lower now, dark and hungry. A crooked smirk tugged at his lips, and the anger twisting through me sparked into heat.
“You can stand with me, Luce,” he said. “You know what else you can do?”
I crossed my arms, defiance battling the rush in my veins. “What?”
“Strip.”
The word hit like a match to dry tinder. My pulse jumped, fury curdling into need.
“Jay—”
“Now.” His hands stayed shoved in his pockets, but the command in his voice pressed harder than any touch.
I hesitated for one breath, maybe two, then I hooked trembling fingers into the hem of his shirt I’d stolen, peeled it slow, let it drop. The joggers slid off next, pooling at my ankles.
Bare before him, my heart pounding so loud it drowned the silence, I let his eyes devour every inch of me.
Jay didn’t move at first. He looked, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of skin I’d exposed. His gaze dragged down me like a torch, hot enough to make my knees weak.
Then he was on me. His mouth crashed against mine, rough and hungry, and I met him with teeth, tongue, need. My back slammed into the dresser, the wood biting into my spine. His hands were everywhere at once, rough palms skimming my ribs, cupping my ass, fingers digging hard enough to leave marks.
“You drive me fucking insane,” he growled against my lips. “Every damn second, I want more.”
“Then take it,” I dared, breathless.
His answering growl vibrated through me. He spun me, bent me over the dresser, chest pressed against my back, pinning me there with his weight. One big hand clamped at the base of my neck, claiming. The other slid between my thighs, and I gasped, arching into him, need unravelling my anger into something hotter.
“Wet already,” he muttered, low and rough, dragging his fingers through me. “You fucking love it.”
I shivered, clutching the edge of the dresser, pulse wild.
He didn’t waste time. Jeans shoved down, a breath against my ear, then he drove into me with one hard thrust that stole my voice.
I cried out, my body stretching, burning, then clenching tight around him. He filled me completely, relentless as his hips slammed into mine, the wood rattling beneath us.
Every thrust forced a gasp, a moan, a broken plea. His hand tightened on my neck, his other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise, dragging me back to meet his pace.
“Look at you,” he rasped, his breath hot against my ear. “Taking me so deep... fuck.”
The words sent sparks down my spine. My body clenched tighter, chasing release, every nerve screaming for it.
“Jay—” My voice cracked, begging before I even knew what I was asking for.
