Page 43 of Presidential Bargain
We spent the rest of the afternoon in a comfortable silence. We made our way to the bottom level of the house where Jameson stretched his long body out on a large, beige sectional and worked. I curled up in a corner with my tablet and read, something I hadn’t done in what felt like forever. Being with him, doing nothing, felt comfortable. When he got up to make himself a cup of coffee, he brought me a cup already properly doctored with just the right amount of cream and sugar. He also brought me a plate ofcookies.
Around dinnertime, Jameson announced that he was going to order takeout. We went through the stack of menus in the kitchen together, discovering that more than a few had closed. It made me wonder just how long it had been since Jameson was last in the house. We finally settled on a Chinese place. When our dinner arrived, we sat at a round mahogany table and feasted. The table sat in an alcove made by a bay window, which overlooked the back of the house. The neighborhood quieted down as dusk cast the city in arosyglow.
“What’s your favorite color,” I asked in between mouthfuls oflomein.
“Blue,” Jameson replied matter-of-factly. “But I’ve recently found myself drawn to the colorgreen.”
His lips twisted into a smirk and I looked away, trying to hide myblush.
“And what about sports? Favorite teams? Do you watch football onSundays?”
“Baseball. I love it. I have season tickets to the Nationals. Whenever I can get to a game, I leave the office andjustgo.”
“That’s surprising. I would have bet that you were a RedSoxfan.”
Jameson grinned. “I love the Red Sox too. There’s nothing like watching a game from the Green Monster. I try to catch a couple home games every year. And if they play the Orioles, then I’ll drive up to CamdenYards.”
Jameson stood and began clearing away our dishes. I followed, closing the containers and putting them in the refrigerator. We moved around the kitchen, around each other, as if we had been together for years, not weeks. I felt at home with him, like I belonged there. I hoped he feltthattoo.
Dimming the lights in the kitchen, Jameson grabbed my hand and led me toward the impressive staircase. We ascended, making our way up to the bedroom. I walked in front of him and I could feel his eyes on me, carefully watching every movement I made. When I placed my hand on the banister, his hand was right there, ghosting over mine. We reached the landing and he pulled me toward him, planting his lips firmlyovermine.
“I like you in my space.” His voice was husky, practically a growl. His eyes danced as they scanned my face before landing on my lips. He nipped at them, teasing me, sucking them into his mouth before quicklyreleasingthem.
“I like being in your space.” I ran a hand up his chest, around his neck, and up the back of his head. I loved running my fingers through his dark, thick hair. It was a little longer than when we first met, which meant moretotug.
“I’m going to like having you in my bed even more.” He let go of my body but kept a firm grasp on my hand as he led me through the double doors of hisbedroom.
Sconces on either side of the bed were lit, giving the room a soft glow. Jameson started to undress, untucking the casual button-down he wore from his khakis. He went about his business, as if we were a totally normal couple. I watched him with wonder as he completed the most mundane oftasks.
“Are you just going to stare at me?” His words broke me out of my trance. Icouldactually just stare at him. Jameson was gorgeous, with or without clothes. His body was presumably softer than it had been in his military days, but it was still impressive. His chest was broad and tapered to a narrow waist. He stayed slim by running, but his muscles were lean and well-defined.
When I looked up and made eye contact, he smirked and then continued getting ready for bed. Eventually, I did the same. I found my suitcase in one of the massive walk-in closets and located a pair of pajama pants and a tank top. I heard Jameson clear his throat and turned around to find him holding a blackshoppingbag.
“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer if you wear something from this bag.” He looked totally uncomfortable with the contents, which made me grin. I took it from him and looked inside. Wrapped in layers of tissue paper were silky, slinky nighties in the palest of colors. Lavender, steel gray, blush pink. I had no idea when he had time to purchase these, but I wouldn’t deny him thisrequest.
I selected the blush pink one and noticed that the hem was trimmed in ivory lace. I slipped it on and the cool fabric instantly sent shivers across my body. The V-neck of the bodice revealed a generous amount of cleavage and the hem came to mid-thigh. I immediately felt sexier. I could tell why a man might want a woman to wear this to bed over a pair of stretchpants.
Jameson was sitting in bed, a pair of thick, black glasses perched on his nose, a folder open in his lap. He was shirtless and wearing only his boxer-briefs. I stepped in the room and waited for him tonotice.
“I’d say that’s an improvement over yogapants.”
I could tell by the whisper of a smile on his lips that he was pleased with hispurchase.
“Come to bed,Georgie.”
“Yes, sir,” I said playfully. I walked to the opposite side and peeled away the comforter and top sheet before sliding in nexttohim.
“I think you should call me that moreoften.”
I snorted with laughter. “Not onyourlife!”
Jameson removed his glasses and set them on the bedside table, along with the folder. When he settled himself, Jameson reached out for me. I gravitated toward him, entwining myself in his embrace. His hands skimmed over my silk-clad body and he hummedappreciatively.
“You should only wear things like this.” He buried his face in my neck and placed soft kisses there. His large hand cupped one of my breasts and he sucked the nipple into his mouth right through the thin fabric. I gasped at the cool sensation of the wet fabric against mysensitiveskin.
“I’ve dreamed of taking you inthisbed.”
My eyes grew wide at his stunning admission. What did it mean that Jameson had been picturing me in his home? When did he begin to think this way? So many questions suddenly filledmymind.
