Page 85 of Power Term

Somehow even with my labored breaths and zero energy to even blink, I laugh. Trey’s thighs tighten around my hips when I try to buck him off. Halfheartedly, I slap at his chest and shove at his shoulder in an attempt to get him off me.

His large hand snags one of mine before it can smack his bare chest a third time, then the other just as easily. Leaning at the waist, he holds both my wrists in one hand and digs them into the sand above my head.

Desire warms my lower belly, making me squirm beneath him, this time with zero hopes of dislodging the delicious weight settled over me.

“Is that any way to treat your husband?” he chides, but there’s a hint of laughter in his voice. He twists to talk to the four agents behind us, dousing his face in the light. Just as I expected, a smile graces his face, those fine laugh lines crinkled at the edges of his eyes.

“You’d already jumped off the cliff once and said it was fun.”

“You pushed me.” He laughs, turning his full attention back to me. “Then ran.”

“You said you wanted to race home.”

“Together. Race home together.”

“How’s that fair?” I grumble.

“We have twenty-four hours to celebrate our honeymoon, baby. Is this really how you want to spend it?”

Yes, I want to scream. Don’t get me wrong, I love us making love, the sweet and gentle stuff. But I love our frustrated, angry, punishing fucks just as much. Hell, maybe even more. And with us being on the campaign trail and me still running a country, that hasn’t been on the menu as of late.

And I really, really, really want it to be.

I bite my lower lip and nod.

Understanding washes over his face as he sits up, bringing my wrists up with him. Looping them around his neck, Trey dips his head, pressing those wet lips against my ear. I shiver as his breath sends goose bumps flaring down my neck.

“If you wanted a good hard fuck, all you had to do was ask, baby.”

“Trey,” I gasp as his teeth sink into my earlobe.

Before I can beg, we’re off the sand and I’m cradled against his chest. Bits of sand dig into my exposed thigh and stomach where our bare skin rubs together as he strides toward the infinity pool. As he leaps up the steps like he’s not carrying a grown woman in his arms, I take in our surroundings.

For twenty-four hours, this place is ours. Only ours. A private beach, far away from the media or any watching eyes. It’s not much of a honeymoon, but let’s be honest, it wasn’t much of a wedding, much to every woman in America’s disappointment. A simple white dress—yeah, yeah, I know it was silly to wear white. I obviously wasn’t a virgin considering I had living proof running around with her own tiny human to care for. Trey was in one of his sexiest suits, and the justice of the peace. Of course he came to us at the house instead of us having to go through the downtown area of Honolulu, which was nice. Plus with T and the rest of the secret service team by our side we had plenty of witnesses as we signed the marriage certificate.

The moon’s reflection shimmers on top of the pool water. Trey stops just at the edge, his toes hanging over the tile. This close to the house, the lights offer a clear view of his face. The face that now wears a mischievous grin and highlights the sparkle in his honey brown eyes.

“Oh no you—”

The bastard does exactly what I suspect. My sharp squeal is immediately cut off as we plunge into the cool pool. Trey’s grasp tightens around me as he shoves off the bottom, rocketing us back to the surface. I gasp in a deep breath and turn, swiping the soaking hair from my eyes to glare at my gorgeous husband.

Gorgeous doesn’t do him justice. There’s a playfulness about him always, but then there’s this glimmer of intense badassery.

Badassery. That’s a word, right?

“The art of being badass?”

Trey’s laugh brushes over my shoulder as he swims us to the edge. “I like where your head’s at, Mess.”

At the edge, he walks us down to the shallow end of the pool. I sink a bit when he releases his hold before finding my footing and standing so my upper half is exposed to the night air. The sound of rushing water snaps my attention back to Trey, who’s pushed himself out of the pool and is now sitting on the deck, legs spread.

Nail between my teeth, I move to stand between his spread thighs and rest my hands on either side of his hips.

Without breaking eye contact, Trey calls out to Tank, “I’ve got her covered. You guys make yourself scarce. And turn off all the motherfucking lights, would you?”

Tank grumbles something in return, but I don’t pay him any attention.

One by one, the overbearing spotlights the guys had set up for security around the property wink out. The last one to flicker off is the one by the pool. The last thing I see before we’re doused in complete darkness is Trey’s smirking face.

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