Page 10 of Power Surge

“Mess.” He chuckles, raising a fist to his mouth, hiding his smile. “You have to tell her it's okay to come in.”

“Oh, right. I forget that part.” Shifting to face the door, I remember our earlier conversation and swivel back around to face Trey once again. “Did you make your point from earlier?”

“What point?”

“You said it will be different with Tae because….”

“Because, Mess, she hasyou.”

I sink my teeth into my lower lip to keep the trembling to a minimum.Why the hell does he have to go and say sweet shit like that?

“But I don't know how to support her like she’ll need and do this.” I sweep both hands out, indicating the historic office. “And what if I'm bad at being a grandparent? What if she's bad at being a mom? And most importantly—” I inhale deep to quell the nerves churning my stomach. “—what if this ends badly? What if this is what Shawn uses against me?”

Both our heads turn at the next knock on the door, this one more forceful.

Trey steps close, placing his hips between my spread knees. The hem of my black pencil skirt slides higher up my thighs, drawing Trey's gaze.

That's another thing I’ve missed since I was sworn in.

Zero, and I meanzero—not even hand stuff—sex time. Between his recovery, him handling his parents’ shit show, and not having any excuse to come to the White House, we haven't had a single moment alone together until now.

Smooth palms brush along my jaw as he cups my cheeks, his thumbs beneath my jaw, holding me still and putting me completely at his mercy. Honey brown eyes search mine as a smile plays at the corner of his lips.

“We'll figure it out, Randi. We always do. You focus on running this country and taking care of your daughter. She needs you now more than ever. Let me and your new alpha team handle all your protection, including that fuckface Whit. Let us take that stress from you, okay?”

“But—”

Soft lips slam against my own, cutting off my next words—hell, my next thought. I slide a tentative hand up his chest, clasping the back of his neck. The strain of the day seeps away with the way he consumes me, with every demanding swipe of his tongue against my own. Within the passing of a few seconds, nothing matters except him and me.

I whimper in disappointment at the pounding against the office door that forces him to end our moment. Hands gripping my lean waist, he helps me off the desk and doesn’t let go until I'm steady on my heels.

“Tonight,” I blurt. “I need to see you tonight. I miss you. I need us, Trouble.” It takes every ounce of courage to expel those words. I don't want to be this needy and desperate for him, but at some point in our relationship, I've come to depend on his strength and unwavering support. I’ve felt lost without his daily presence the past several weeks.

Trey's confident smile goes shy. After clearing his throat, he shakes his head. “You know I would, but it's too risky. We both know what the media would say, what the people would say if they found out I was sneaking into the White House to sleep with the president.”

“Figure out a way.” I hang my head. “I'm drowning in this stress pool, and you're my unicorn float.”

He tips his head back and lets out a full, boisterous laugh. The sadness that had begun to seep in with his certain departure lifts, and a smile spreads across my dry lips.

“You and your damn unicorns. The obsession is getting worse, Mess. What’s next? Federal funding for genetic testing and DNA mutation in hopes of building a unicorn army?”

“Not a bad idea, Trouble. I’ll look into it.”

He smirks. “I'm sure the citizens of this country will love to know what their tax dollars are going toward.”

Smiling, I straighten my shirt and swipe under my eyes once more. “Maybe I'll give everyone a Lisa Frank unicorn eraser or something as a thank you.”

“What is this, a third grade Valentine’s Day party?”

“You'd be surprised at all the shit I want to buy now that I can.” Pausing on my way to the door, I glance over my shoulder. “Do you think they still sell Trapper Keepers? I always wanted one of those.”

“What time, Mess?” he says on a resigned laugh.

Facing the closed white door, I give him a victorious smile. “I should be done around ten.”

“I'll make it eleven, then.”

Confused, I turn, my brows dipped.

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