Faye: Room 614
“Top floor,” Dylan noted, glancing at his screen. “Of course.”
We cut past the desk and stepped into the elevator. I hit six and watched the numbers climb as my pulse did the same. The doors slid open on the sixth floor. The hallway was quiet, the carpet soft under our feet, the lights turned down low. Room numbers climbed along the wall.
Agent Pederson stood near the door to room 614, hands clasped in front of him, eyes fixed on us as we walked up.
“Knock,” Dylan murmured.
“You knock,” I shot back.
“One of you knock,” Agent Pederson said with a chuckle.
I took a breath, lifted my hand, and knocked on the door of the suite where the president’s daughter was waiting inside.
The door opened, and Faye stood before us, her hair up in a messy knot, a soft T-shirt brushing bare thighs. I wasn’t sure she was wearing anything under it. Her eyes ran over both of us, then quickly pulled us inside without a word. The door shut, and she flipped the deadbolt.
She leaned back against the door for a second, then looked at us. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I said.
Dylan’s mouth lifted. “Hi.”
The suite had a small sitting area with a couch, a table, and a doorway to the bedroom. A half-empty bottle of water sat on the table.
“You look happy,” I told her.
“I am.” She pushed off the door and stepped closer. Her hand settled on my chest, and her fingers curled into my T-shirt. “You gonna stand there and talk, or are you gonna kiss me?”
I dipped my head and met her mouth. She rose onto her toes, her fingers tightening in my shirt as her lips stayed soft and warm against mine. She opened up, her tongue brushing mine, and a quiet sound slipped from her throat.
Dylan moved in beside her as we pulled apart. “My turn.”
She turned her head and kissed him, her hand sliding along his jaw. I watched them, my pulse kicking hard, and let my palm curve over her waist. She pushed against Dylan’s chest, steering him back until his calves hit the couch. She dropped onto the middle cushion and crooked a finger at us. “Come here.”
I took the seat to her right, and Dylan sat on her left. She glanced at each of us in turn, her lips slightly swollen, and shook her head.
“Too far,” she complained.
She hooked one hand around my neck and tugged me closer, so I slid over until my hip pressed against hers, then she did the same with Dylan. The warmth of her thigh seeped through the fabric of my shorts, and I felt each breath she took.
“This is better,” she decided.
“You’re bossy,” Dylan told her.
“You like it,” she fired back.
“Yeah,” I cut in. “We do.”
Her fingers slid up the center of my chest and back around to the nape of my neck. She pulled me toward her and kissed me again, slower and deeper this time, using her tongue to stroke mine in a way that made my spine light up.
She broke the kiss with a small gasp and tipped her head back against the cushion for a second. I looked over and saw Dylan running his fingers up her thigh. Her eyes fluttered shut, then opened again. When he leaned in and caught her mouth,her hand slid into his hair. As I watched them, my hand drifted over her stomach, my fingers sliding under the hem of her shirt. Her skin felt warm and smooth under my palm. She sucked in a breath.
“Jase,” she whispered against Dylan’s mouth.
“Yeah?” I murmured.
“More.”
