Page 102 of Secret Service

ChapterTwenty-Three

Reese

Then

I’m groggy. Normally I pop awake, fully alert. Perk of this job. Now I feel like I’m emerging from hibernation. Sleep clings to me. Sleep, and the obliteration that follows a night of absolutely amazing sex—

My eyes snap open.

Brennan lies beside me in bed. I can see one bleu clair eye and the curve of his smile above a puff of white cotton. He’s playing with my hair.The sheet is pooled at his waist, showing off the broad expanse of his naked chest, and there’s a bruise, a bite mark, on his pec below his collarbone.

Merde.

After the first round, we dozed until two in the morning, when we woke with our hands and lips moving over each other. A moment later, I was inside him. It was slower, gentler, and I came deep within him as we kissed each other breathless.

We made love again an hour later, this time with Brennan on top, our hands clasped, the room pitch black save for the reflection of Manhattan in Brennan’s neon eyes. It could have lasted a minute or an hour or a century. All I could feel was him.

“Morning,” he says softly. It’s still dark outside. Manhattan’s skyline is just starting to shift from indigo to cerulean. “I was watching you sleep.” He scoots closer, until we’re sharing the pillow. Our bodies merge, his heat—his hardness—against my naked thigh. A low moan escapes me.

He captures my lips as he takes my face in his palm. I shouldn’t do this. No, I shouldn’t do this again, but Brennan has a way of making the rest of the world seem insignificant, as if the only things that matter are him and me and the angles of our bodies.

So I’m right there with him, kissing him as I roll him to his back and cover him with my body. He’s staring into my eyes and I’m staring back, and there’s no hiding from what I’m doing now. I’m fucking the president.

My orgasm sneaks up on me. I bite his shoulder to muffle my groan, and a moment later, he does the same. Our come mingles on our skin, and we collapse in a pile of sweaty limbs and slow, open-mouthed kisses.

For a lazy, post-orgasmic moment, I want to lie here and ignore the world, stay in bed and make love to him all day long. Forget the UN, forget—

Arrête-toi.

It crashes back into me, the lines I’ve crossed—obliterated—and how absolutely fucked I am. How fucked we are.

Merde, what am I doing? No, what have I done?

The sky outside is shifting, now lilac and pink with threads of orange fire. Dawn is almost here. Two floors down, the command center is coming to life, the night shift trading places with the morning. I’m supposed to be down there right now, briefing the entire team on the schedule for the day.

POTUS movement to the UN at ten hundred, Security Council session until fifteen hundred. POTUS to the Midtown heliport at fifteen thirty, wheels up on Air Force One at sixteen forty-five. ETA at the White House eighteen forty.

I’m supposed to be at Brennan’s side through all of that, as if I haven’t just spent the night making love in his bed.

Static crackles through my radio, abandoned in the middle of his suite near my jacket and the rest of my gear. “Ellis to Theriot, what’s your location, over?”

Fuck. It’s Henry on a private channel. He can’t find me. Of course.

I scramble out of bed and race across the suite. Naked, I scoop the radio up and pop the earpiece in. “Go for Theriot.”

“Uhh, running behind this morning, boss?”

“Yeah. Give me five.”

“Roger that.”

My clothes are everywhere. Suit pants by the bed. Shirt in the corner. I grab each and dress as fast as I can. Everything is wrinkled, looking exactly like it spent the night balled up on the floor.

I don’t have time for a shower. God, I need one, because I smell like sex and Brennan. And when I look in the mirror, it’s obvious what I’ve been up to. I’m disheveled, stubble too long, my hair with that freshly fucked tousle.

Worse, what I’ve done is practically tattooed across my forehead: I fucked the president.

Brennan appears behind me in the mirror. He squeezes my shoulders and kisses my cheek. Smiles. He’s happy. It’s rolling off him in waves.

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