Page 93 of Fight for Me

“Never.”

He took her hand and led her upstairs to his bedroom. He unzipped her dress slowly, savoring the moment. She turned and let the dress slip from her shoulders to the floor.

She took his breath away.

She had on a matching black lace bra and tiny panties, belying the conservative dress she’d worn. It was incredibly hot.

Anne reached up, her eyes on his, and pulled pins from her hair until the full, heavy mass fell past her shoulders. Her hands went behind her back and undid the bra, which she shrugged to the floor. The panties were next, kicked aside along with the sensible heels, leaving her in nothing but the pearls.

Blane went wild. He picked her up and swung her onto the bed, quickly shedding his clothes, He made love to her as gently as he could until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He made sure she came until he’d wrung her weary.

Afterwards, she cuddled into his side, her head on his shoulder, and yawned.

“That was amazing,” she sighed. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before. How you know my body. It’s incredible.”

Blane couldn’t help a self-satisfied smile. “It was my pleasure. I love touching you.” He paused. “I love you, Anne.”

Anne’s breath froze in her chest. She twisted to look at him. “You what?”

The deep green of his eyes held her hostage. “I love you,” he repeated, sounding quite frank.

No man had ever said those words to her before.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, still stunned.

He smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Leaning forward, he brushed her lips with his.

She nuzzled his neck and kissed him. He held her tighter. They fell into companionable silence. After a while, he heard her breath even out and deepen. Her body relaxed. She was asleep.

Blane could count on one hand the number of times in his life when he’d been happy. This exceeded them all.

He wasn’t in bed alone. For a change. His hand drifted down to her abdomen and rested there.

He was almost afraid to hope, to dream this was real. What if she changed her mind? What if it became too much, the campaign, and she called it quits?

Blane pushed those thoughts aside. They were paralyzing and unproductive. He needed to just enjoy the moment. While he had it.

With a deep, contented sigh, he kissed Anne’s forehead and settled back. He was asleep within moments.

Chapter Sixteen

To say that Maria was ecstatic about Anne’s change of circumstance would be an understatement. She nearly broke the sound barrier with her squeals of happiness, alternately hugging Anne and her mother.

They were having tea at her mother’s house and invited Maria. Anne wanted to officially ask Maria to be her Matron of Honor. Her mother had secured the National Cathedral for the wedding in six weeks’ time. Nearly every moment between now and then would need to be devoted to planning the wedding. A candidate for President of the United States couldn’t just shack up with a girl and show up with her in front of a Justice of the Peace.

The press had had a field day with the news. Page Six was in an alt of bliss as article after article appeared regarding Blane and herself. Some true. Most not.

Once Maria had settled and was again sipping her tea, Anne broached the subject.

Taking Maria’s hand in hers, she became serious. Maria glanced at her in some surprise.

“I need to ask you,” Anne began, “would you please be my Matron of Honor?” She thought Maria would say yes, but the publicity might dissuade her.

Maria paused for a moment, her eyes widening. “Oh, Anne,” she breathed. Her eyes glistened. She squeezed Anne’s hand. “Oh my goodness. Yes! Yes, of course!”

They hugged tightly. Anne was grateful. It was going to be a circus and a total pain in the ass with the press.

“Thank you,” she whispered in Maria’s ear.

---