Page 26 of Secret Service

He stands, and so do I. “Once we’re on the ground, the team and I will deplane first and make sure everything is secure. When you get the signal, you’ll come down the stairs. Get ready for the cheers.”

“I’ll have my smile and bells on.” I hold out my hand for his coffee cup. “I’ll toss it for you?”

He hesitates before passing it over. A tiny bump of turbulence, the first in the whole flight, brings our fingers together.

Thisis the feeling I’ve been trying to convince myself was nothing but my fantasies running wild. That it didn’t happen when we met, that I made it up, that it was all in my head. But here it is again: raw lightning and black honey and midnight blues, bodies moving in harmony, quiet gasps smothered against shoulders. The glide of a man’s back beneath my palm, and the clench of my thighs around his hips. Hands in my hair, my mouth falling open, stubble scraping along my neck and jaw—

This is what has kept me up at night, this electricity and the curve of his smile and the flicker of light in those nearly impenetrable eyes.

He pulls away.

I toss our cups and clear my throat, trying to blink my brain back to operational.

He stills in the open doorway and looks back at me.

The wheels touch down, burning rubber screeching on the runway. “Mr. President,” he says. “I’ll see you on the ground in ten minutes.”

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