Page 238 of Bona Fide

? Simple Amazing —Trey Songz ?

Three years later…

“What doyou mean you’re not going to run for a second term?” Reagan’s body is leaned over my desk, palms along the edge, and her violet eyes—those beautiful fucking things—are constricted and zeroed in on me.

“I’m not running for a second term, baby. We’ve been through this a million times.”

“Why? Remind me—a good reason, Lockwood.”

“Because I think we’ve had enough public attention for the past three years.” I lean back in my chair and take in her lavender dress that dips a little too low for my liking. Especially since a large portion of the people here in the White House are male. “And I want you all to myself now. And I won that damn Yankee game, and you, Miss Shelton, owe me.” I expect her face to soften, but it only hardens more.

“But you’ve done amazing things since you’ve been in office. The unemployment rate has dropped, people are starting to believe again in this country. You just got rid of the—”

“I know what I’ve done,” I surmise. “But it’s time that you and I have some time alone. I’ve shared you long enough with the American people.”

And trust me, I have.

We announced two years ago that her and I were a couple. Reagan wanted to keep it on the down low for longer but me, being me, didn’t want to keep her a secret anymore. I wanted to whisk her out in public and hold her hand. I wanted to tell every single fucking male and female that she was mine, and I would use every ounce of my power to strike them down.

“You might be edging forty, but that doesn’t mean—”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I chide, my brows now furrowed in on her. “You’ve practically been the perfect wife to the damn country and you’re not even my wife yet.”

“Then marry me, fool, and run for a second term.” I glare at her because this isn’t how I wanted this to go.

I wanted her to be excited and ready to start talking about all the possible things we could do with each other.

Or, I don’t know, maybe plan our wedding in her damn head like normal females do.

We’ll always be in the public eye, I know that, but most of the heat will be taken off of us with time, and that’s what I want. I didn’t want to keep her here—front and center to the world—for any longer than we had to.

“I’ll propose to you when we’re not standing in my office with hundreds of people moving around. With my luck, one will probably come knocking on this door any minute asking me to read something.”

She straightens her spine and releases a heavy sigh of exasperation. “You are old.”

“You weren’t saying that earlier when I had you up in the air on my shoulders while I was feasting on your pussy this morning.” I think I see her cheeks pinken before she crosses her arms along her chest.

“Wade…”

“Baby…” I lean back in my chair and take in the woman who drives me fucking mad with lust and the need to screw her at every second of every day. “Don’t you want to get out of this place? Before you hit forty?”

I get a chuckle and a smile out of her before she says, “We still have quite a ways before that happens.”

“Mhm…” Reagan rounds my desk and plops her ass in my lap before wrapping her arms around my neck. Her classic move when she wants me to agree to something.

The problem for me is when she bats her long eyelashes and gives me her killer smile. I’m putty in her hands after that, and she uses that to her full advantage.

“I have something to tell you,” she mutters.

“What is it?”

“I want to marry you.”

I chuckle before wrapping my arms around her. “I would hope that you would after this long.”

“But I want you to run for a second term.”

“Oh, geezus Christ, Rea—” She presses her index finger to my lips.

---