Officemate

  That was my new plan.

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Isabel

  As I sat on a plush chair in the Rose Garden, I fought the urge to pinch myself for the millionth time for so many reasons. It wasn’t just about the fact that I was in attendance at the wedding of the year, or that I was rubbing elbows with some of the highest-ranking political figures in the country, as well as some celebrities. It was more about how truly surreal it was. I was attending as the plus one of the president’s eligible-bachelor son.

  Speaking of Thorn, if I had thought he was delectable in a tailor-made suit, Thorn in a form-fitting black tux was positively combustible. After breakfast with his parents and sister, he’d spent most of the morning occupied with best man duties while I caught up on some work. When he came to escort me to the ceremony, I almost had a heart attack. At the sight of him, every illicit and impure thought I could conjure flickered through my mind. It took everything within me not to climb him like a tree right there in the family residence. Of course, if I’d tried that, I probably would have been tackled by a member of the Secret Service.

  As a string quartet played Broadway show tunes—a subtle nod to the bride’s former involvement in musical theater—Thorn led me to my seat. You can imagine my surprise when I found I was seated on the third row among his family—like the row behind aunts, uncles, and cousins. “Wait, I shouldn’t be sitting here,” I hissed in protest.

  “Just shut up and sit down,” he replied with a wink.

  Normally, I would have told him to shove it, but the last thing I was going to do was make a scene in the Rose Garden. Instead, I eased into my seat without further argument. When I looked back at him, he gave me a panty-melting smile before he headed back down the aisle to continue escorting people to their seats. Of course, the skin on my back felt singed by the curious stares behind me. I knew they wondered who I was to have such a prestigious seat. More than that, they were wondering if I had ties to Thorn.

  Time ticked closer to the start of the ceremony. When Thorn came walking out of the side door with Barrett, he sought my gaze in the crowd. The moment our eyes met, he smiled, and I instantly warmed not from the June heat, but from his gesture.

  Even though I didn’t know Barrett and Addison that well, I found myself tearing up from time to time during the ceremony. Call me a sentimental sap, but I was touched by the love they exhibited for each other. From Barrett shedding tears at the sight of Addison walking down the aisle on her father’s arm to Addison’s brother belting out a heartfelt rendition of At Last, it was an utterly gorgeous ceremony, the kind I dreamed to experience myself one day.

  As the other guests filed into the East Room for the reception, Thorn instructed me to stay and hang out with him while the wedding party took pictures. I was glad he had suggested it since I didn’t know a single soul inside. Once they had taken approximately one gajillion pictures, Thorn offered me his arm, and we started back inside the White House.

  “What a beautiful wedding,” I mused to make small talk.

  “It really was.” Thorn shook his head. “I still can’t believe Barrett’s married.”

  “He seems over the moon for Addison.”

  “Oh yeah, he is. It’s just he used to be a notorious womanizer. He never cheated on women or anything like that, he just played the field.” He winked at me. “A lot of fields.”

  I laughed. “I see.”

  Thorn’s expression grew serious. “I guess it just goes to show the old adage is true about the love of a good woman changing you.”

  Under the intensity of his expression, I fought to breathe. Somehow it seemed he wasn’t just talking about Barrett, like maybe he was referring to himself as well. It made my heartbeat accelerate.

  “I suppose so,” I murmured, my mouth suddenly dry. As a waiter passed by, I snagged a flute of champagne. I tried sipping it daintily though I wanted to throw the entire thing back in one gulp.

  Thorn’s hand came to the small of my back, and then he led us to our table. The next hour passed with a three-course meal followed by Barrett and Addison cutting the cake. I threw back more champagne while tearing up through Thorn’s best man speech. The love that flowed between the two of them reminded me of Christina. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her, and the same could be said for Barrett and Thorn. Even though we’d lived far away from each other for many years, our bond was still just as strong. It seemed to be the same way with Barrett and Thorn.

  After the cake was cut and distributed, Barrett and Addison shared their first dance. On the next song when other couples started to join them, Thorn turned to me. “Would you like to dance?”

  I smiled. “I’d love to.”

  He took my hand and swept me from my chair. After we got onto the dance floor, my hand slid around Thorn’s back as his came around my waist. My breath hitched being so close to him. My senses became overwhelmed with his nearness—the smell of his cologne in my nose, his callused fingers against mine. I wanted to be even closer to him, wanted to feel his skin against mine. Everything I felt for him seemed heightened, like the emotion surrounding the wedding was sending my feelings into overdrive.

  Trying to get my mind on track, I focused on the band, which was playing a Big Band era song.

  “I love this music,” I said to break the silence between us.

  “You do?”

  I nodded. “Glen Miller, Cole Porter, Tommy Dorsey—all the big band leaders. Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong era. I’ve always hated clubs with all the sweaty bumping and grinding, but give me a dance with a jitterbug or slow dancing, and I’m there.” Gazing up at him, I asked, “What about you? Do you ever feel you were born in the wrong time period?

  Thorn tilted his head in thought. “I prefer modern conveniences, but the soldier in me would have loved to be around for WWII.”

  “Who wouldn’t want to kick Nazi ass, right?”

  He chuckled. “Exactly, and I would have loved to serve under some of the great generals, like MacArthur, Patton, and Bradley.” He jerked his chin at me. “Speaking of WWII, I could totally imagine you as Rosie the Riveter.”

  I grinned. “While I love the music of the time period, I’m not sure I would have made it as a WWII-era woman. I would have been really pissed to stop riveting once the boys came home.”

  “I can totally see that about you. I can also see you being a strong, supportive woman by keeping the home fires burning.”

  “Of course I would’ve been. I would’ve made sure to tie a yellow ribbon around the old oak tree for my man.” Tilting my head, I asked, “Did you have someone to tie a yellow ribbon?” I instantly regretted my question when a pained expression came over Thorn’s face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.”

  “No, it’s a perfectly okay question to ask. Considering how quickly my ex broke things off with me during my deployment, I doubt it. She wasn’t really the yellow-ribbon type.”

  “It sounds like she wasn’t your type. Any woman who was with you should have grasped the importance of your career.”

  “You’re right. She never really appreciated that facet of my life.”

  Conversation seemed to fail us then. Maybe it was because of my awkward question, or maybe it was because we seemed to have moved from tiptoeing around the invisible line drawn in the sand between us to taking giant steps.

  When the music stopped, I remained in Thorn’s arms. To be honest, I could have stayed in his arms for the rest of the night. The screech of the bandleader’s microphone tore my attention away from Thorn. “Ladies and gentlemen, please make your way to the exit to observe the fireworks as the bride and groom prepare to leave for their honeymoon.”

  “Fireworks? Now that’s a sendoff,” I mused.

  “A little over the top for my taste, but they didn’t ask me,” Thorn replied as we started to the door.

  “I think it’s romantic.”

  Thorn cocked a brow. “A sonic boom filling the night sky is romantic?”

/>   “The bright colors set against the starry sky are beautiful.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. Fireworks are part of celebrations, and what better thing to celebrate than a wedding?”

  Thorn grinned. “Just when I think you aren’t a girly girl, you go and say something like that.”

  I waved my hand at him. “I’m perfectly fine being a girly girl and a ball-buster.”

  “You’ve got the ball-busting down for sure.”

  Before I could argue with Thorn, a loud boom went off over our heads followed by streaks of blue and purple. At the top of the lawn, Barrett stood with his arm wrapped around Addison’s waist, their faces tilted to the sky. I stood by my previous claim that it was really romantic.

  When I glanced over at Thorn, he was no longer by my side. Instead, he had ducked under the tree behind us. I hurried over to him. Doubled over at the waist, he appeared to be trying to regulate his breathing. “Are you okay?” I shouted over the fireworks.

  He didn’t respond at first. Instead of pressing him with another question, I merely stood there and waited for him to speak to me. I didn’t try touching him either. The seconds ticked agonizingly by. Finally, he raised his head. “Conan is probably freaking out in my room,” he mused.

  A relieved breath whooshed out of me. He was back with me, and his spirits seemed good since he was joking around, but I also knew something about self-deprecating humor. “Are you okay?” I repeated.

  “I will be.”

  I reached up to cup his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “It’s just…” Words seemed inadequate at the moment. “I hate to see you in pain.”

  “And I’m grateful you care,” he said softly.

  “I do. I care a lot.”

  Thorn’s eyes flared at my words. It was as if he’d been waiting for my consent, because he pounced on me, sending us crashing against the trunk of the tree. His hands came up to cup my cheeks. “I care a lot, too,” he said.

  The next thing I knew, his mouth was on mine, and even with my eyes closed, I was seeing fireworks. The kiss started soft with his warm lips pressed against mine, and then it deepened into something desperate, like he wanted to climb inside me, and God help me, I wanted him to. As his tongue swept past my lips and into my mouth, I moaned, and my hands came up to grip his corded shoulders.

  When he finally broke the kiss, my chest heaved, and I trembled all over from need. Oh God. Thorn had kissed me, and it had been even better than I’d dreamed or fantasized about. I hadn’t actually fantasized about kissing him under a tree on the White House lawn under a multicolored display of fireworks; what I had imagined had been much more private, but it’d had the same level of intimacy.

  At the same time, I hadn’t imagined the kiss coming out of such emotional desperation on his part. One minute he was lost in a PTSD episode and the next he was kissing me. Did he really want to kiss me or was I just a distraction? My emotional grid went haywire with a mixture of confusion and hurt and fear.

  Yes, I was a grown woman who felt fear about a kiss. In fact, I was scared out of my fucking mind. As much as I wanted the kiss and as much as I wanted him, there was also the fact that we had taken a quantum leap out of the friend zone. We would never be able to go back to the way things were. That fact truly horrified me, not to mention what would happen at work.

  All of those out-of-control emotions were swarming in my mind when Thorn pulled away to stare into my eyes. Laden down with the baggage of the moment, I couldn’t tell him how I felt about him. I couldn’t tell him how much I’d wanted him to kiss me or about my growing feelings for him.

  No, I promptly did the stupidest thing in the world, not counting the dog laxatives.

  I ran.

  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I completely panicked, whirled away from Thorn, and then sprinted away as fast as my expensive heels could take me. Why, you ask? Oh please. It would take an hour-long session with my therapist to figure that one out.

  I ran away from the best kiss of my life—the best man of my life—and I didn’t stop running until I was locked in my room.

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Thorn

  FUUUUCK reverberated in my mind as I watched Isabel’s retreating form. How could I have possibly read the situation so wrong? No, everything had told me the moment was right, that Isabel had wanted the kiss as much as I did. Apparently, though, I was completely delusional, because I never expected the fear that radiated in her eyes when she pulled away.

  After standing there in a stupor for what had to be a good five minutes, Ty brought me out of my thoughts. “You okay, mate?”

  I threw a glance at him over my shoulder. “No.” Fuck no.

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. I…I kissed her,” I replied.

  When I turned around, Ty’s face was positively comical. “Really?”

  “Apparently, I fucking suck at kissing.”

  Ty scowled at me. “Doubtful.”

  “You wanna snog me and see?” I asked, throwing the Britishism for kissing at him.

  He chuckled. “Hell no.”

  Shrugging, I replied, “Then I guess I’ll never know.”

  “Find out right now. Go see what’s wrong,” Ty suggested.

  “Considering how quickly she jetted out of here, I doubt she wants to be around me.”

  “Just go.”

  I held up my hands. “Fine, fine, I’m going.”

  “Good.”

  Any bravado I had about busting down Isabel’s door waned on the long walk back to the residence. Instead of going to her room, I went to mine, and Conan practically knocked me down the moment I came through the door. “It’s okay, buddy. I’m back.” His response was to shoot me a Don’t bullshit me look. “Yeah, okay, I had a moment outside, but it’s all good now.” He cocked his head and once again gave me a look.

  After I stripped off my suit jacket, I tossed it onto the chair. More than anything, I wanted to sleep, to escape the emotional overload of the day. I threw a T-shirt on and exchanged my briefs for a pair of boxers. Too restless to sleep, I prowled around the room. I checked my phone, flipped on the TV, and grabbed a beer out of the mini-fridge.

  Chugging the beer didn’t help. Instead, I felt even more fidgety. I couldn’t stay in the room one more second. After hopping into a pair of jeans, I headed back out into the hallway. At first, I didn’t know where I was going, but it seemed the minute I got outside, I had a purpose, and that purpose was talking to Isabel. I needed to know how I had possibly read her so wrong. Kissing her had been so much better than I’d even imagined it would be. It was several months of passion condensed into moments with her delicious mouth, and I wanted more—much, much more. However, I’d have to put those thoughts behind me if she didn’t want me. I just didn’t know what she wanted me to do.

  When I got to her room, my knuckles rapped against the wood. A few seconds passed before the door swung wide, and Isabel’s shocked face appeared before me. Okay, Callahan, get it together. After jerking a hand through my hair, I exhaled a ragged breath. “Listen, I felt like I should come in person and apologize for what happened earlier. I’m sorry if I offended you with the kiss. You know better than anyone I’m not one for spontaneity. What I felt in that moment has been building over time. However, regardless of my feelings, I didn’t stop to take yours into consideration. I’m terribly sorry.”

  Isabel blinked at me. We stood there in an awkward silence for a few moments. The next thing I knew, she launched herself at me. Talk about climbing me like a spider monkey. After jumping into my arms, she wrapped her legs around my waist before her arms encircled my neck. When her lips slammed against mine, my heart threatened to burst right out of my chest.

  “I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry,” Isabel murmured against my mouth.

  “You’re forgiven,” I replied.

  She pulled away to stare intently into my eyes. “I was s
o stupid to run away from you. I wanted you to kiss me. I swear on everything that is holy I did.”

  I couldn’t help chuckling. “I believe you.”

  “I’ve wanted you to kiss me for a really long time.”

  “And I’ve wanted to kiss you.” Tilting my head, I added, “I’m glad we’re finally on the same page.”

  “More than just a kiss, I want you.” Isabel then ground her pelvis against mine, causing me to groan as my cock jumped. This woman was going to be the death of me, and we hadn’t even gotten naked yet.

  After we burst through the bedroom door, I staggered over to the bed. I was having trouble concentrating on walking with Isabel’s tongue swirling in my mouth while she rubbed her fabulous tits against my chest, not to mention the fact that she was riding my hardened dick over my jeans.

  When we got over to the bed, Isabel slid down my body onto her feet. Her hands then came to my belt buckle, and although my cock wanted nothing more than to have her hands on it, I knew it was the last thing I needed if I wasn’t going to embarrass myself in front of Isabel. “We need to slow down,” I panted.

  Her head shook feverishly from side to side. “I want you inside me—now.”

  I took her hands in mine and moved them away from my belt buckle. “There’s a reason I need to slow things down.”

  Isabel turned her wild gaze on mine. “What? Why?”

  “If I fuck you now, I’m not going to last longer than about two seconds.” When she blinked at me in confusion, I squeezed her hands. “I haven’t been with anyone but my hand in a year. Because of that fact, I know I’ll be shooting off like a teenage boy the moment I get inside you. I don’t want that for our first time.”

  “Oh,” she murmured.

  “So let’s slow it down, okay? I mean, we’ve got all night.”

  Isabel licked her lips. “Let me take care of you. Then you can build back up to be ready to fuck me for hours.”

  When I got her meaning, I happily released her hands. After she unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, she pushed them over my hips and down my thighs before getting settled on her knees before me. In my exhilaration about getting head, I hadn’t stopped to think about the fact that she was about to feel my scars. Not only was she going to feel my scars, she was going to see them, like be up close and personal with them. An icy panic pricked its way down my back to settle in my stomach, and I fought the urge to pull her up off her knees before she’d even gotten started.