I freeze momentarily when her fingers tuck into the waistband of my jeans.
“Charlotte…” I murmur, my voice rough.
She doesn’t stop.
“Christ, stop, my love,” I say breathlessly. “Please.”
“Why?” She whispers back, her lips brushing mine again—curious, testing,claiming.
Fuck.
My hands slide to her waist, holding her there, grounding both of us before either of us goes too far, too fast.
“Are you sure?” I ask quietly, my forehead resting against hers.
Her answer isn’t words.
It’s the way she presses closer. The way her fingers tighten, pulling me closer.
“Theo…”
My eyes shut at the sound of my name on her lips.
“Jesus…” I breathe, pulling her into another kiss—deeper this time, but still careful. Stillasking.
Still giving her the space to pull away.
She fucking doesn’t.
Fuck my life.
As much as I try, my hands slip under her t-shirt. She still doesn’t stop me—not even when my fingers brush right below her breasts. Hesitant.
She grabs my hand and pulls it up. Letting my trembling hand take a handful of her supple breast.
Flicking her peaked nipple, I squeeze gently. My whole body shaking with the need to take her. Right here.
I nearly crush her as I put a little of my weight on her. Her only response is her wandering hands.
My back, my neck…my fucking soul.
For a moment, the world narrows to just this—her warmth, her breath, the quiet, fragile thing building between us.
Then—
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
Of course it does.
I drop my head into her neck with a quiet groan, my breath still uneven.
She lets out a soft, breathy laugh. “Get to work, Prez.”
I smile, but it falters almost immediately.
Prez.
Right. I’m the Prez now, aren’t I?
