16. Alex

Chapter 16

Alex

I wake in darkness to the faint smell of smoke, with Jaclyn no longer in my arms. I turn on a light and slide out of bed, finding a large, brown-handled paper bag on the chair where our clothes were earlier. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I open it, taking out a black tee, a pack of boxer briefs, and gray sweatshorts. Popping off the tags, I smile to myself and get dressed.

As I walk through the living room, a faint glow illuminates the space from a fire pit outside. I step outside, the sliding door alerting my presence and making Jaclyn turn toward the noise.

Seated in the chaise chair next to the fire pit, she turns back toward the ocean. "Sorry. Hope I didn't wake you. I needed to approve the seating chart for the gala."

"You didn't." I step onto the patio, taking a seat in the chaise next to her. She's wearing her dress from earlier, but her golden blonde hair is braided now over her shoulder. "How long have you been out here?"

"About an hour. I hope they fit."

I glance down and pull my shirt away from my body for a moment. "They do, thank you."

"I want to burn all of his clothes."

"What?" I ask, barking a laugh.

"But then I couldn't stop thinking how wasteful it is." She turns her head to face me. "So, in the morning, I'm going to bag everything up and donate them."

"Remind me to never piss you off," I chuckle, earning me a smile.

Jaclyn returns her attention to the water, and we sit in comfortable silence for several minutes. Staring out into the dark ocean, her voice startles me. "What made you decide to run as a moderate?"

"Honestly? It was never my party; it's my father's." I shrug. "I could've run with his endorsement, but I always want to vote with my conscience. It's why I've never accepted donations from large corporations." Though, I leave out that I accept other types of help from time to time. "Most of my donations are ten, maybe twenty dollars. No one wants to be beholden to billionaires. I also don't consider myself liberal or conservative. I don't vote along party lines, and I think that speaks to a lot of people. So, I hopped across the aisle to distance myself from my father, and I've always been transparent that I will do what's best for my state."

"I wish it was that simple for everyone," she sighs wistfully.

"It is. You just have to stay true to yourself. There's so much hypocrisy from both sides. Sometimes, one side is right; sometimes, it's the other. It's okay to agree with someone across the aisle. Politics is more of a murky gray than black and white."

"But you still have to pick a side," Jaclyn counters with a raised eyebrow.

"Not always. You can show them that collaboration isn't the devil." I turn to face her. "Okay, rapid fire." She mirrors me, trying to hide her smile, while her eyes glimmer with intrigue. We did this all the time in college, and I'm hoping it will lighten the energy between us. "School choice."

"Every parent should have the right to have their child attend whatever school they want," she replies without hesitation.

"Who should fund it?"

"We should. Education should be free."

"True," I concede, and she bites her lip, thinking she won this round. Swallowing hard, I remain on topic, ignoring the fact that I want to take her plump lip in between my teeth, and ask, "Should a private for-profit receive the same funding as a public non- profit?"

She pauses before carefully admitting, "Yes."

"Should there be regulations to ensure the for-profit school meets certain standards?"

Her eyes narrow. "Is this a trick question?"

"No," I laugh. "Some people— my father —think we shouldn't regulate private schools, even if they were to hypothetically receive state funding. I can't get behind that. I'm not putting tax dollars into a school that isn't teaching math. But with criteria in place, I agree, parents should have options. Education isn't one-size fits all, and schools should have the choice of what curriculum they want to use to meet a child's educational goals."

"We both went to private schools," she laughs, no longer able to conceal her smile.

"The public school system was hard for Chris and me." I can't help laying my heart on the table when I'm around her. "There wasn't a lot of support for kids with ADHD back then. It's a lot better now, but I don't take for granted that my parents had a choice for my education, whereas other parents don't. Don't get me started on how messed up the IEP process is for kids and their families."

"Wait a minute, you have ADHD, like Chris? I had no idea."

"It's not something I announce with a megaphone when I meet people. For me, it's more hyperfixation, while Chris struggles with impulsivity—or at least he used to when we were kids." Talking about it only shines a light on the fact that Jaclyn is my fixation-du-jour. "Okay, that's enough story time. Next one. Gun control."

Jaclyn shuts her eyes and sits back in her chair, shaking her head. "I don't like this game."

"You're rusty, Taylor," I tease, and she laughs, just like she did when we were younger. Fuck, I miss how carefree she was. "You know the answer that's expected of you, but when you're representing a district, an entire state, or the country, you have to listen to everyone's voices. There is never one answer that fits. It doesn't have to be all-or-nothing."

Her fire is back when she asks, "Where do you stand on gun control?"

As she lights up, I can't help mirroring her smile, loving that she's willing to play. With a little work, she'll be ready to take office; I just hope Chris will support her when she does. For a brief moment, my mind wanders, imagining an alternate universe where we are prepping for her presidential debate with my face between her legs, or buried deep inside her. My cock twitches at the thought, and I quickly brush away the fantasy.

"This isn't about me, wife ." Fuck… I like how that sounds a bit too much.

"I miss this," she laughs.

I miss you.

"Me, too." Her lips tilt up in a smirk, and I continue, "All right, last one. What's more important, animal safety or cost of goods?"

"I…" She fidgets with the hem of her dress. "I don't know. Both?"

I lean over and tilt her chin to look at me. " That was a trick question. But I agree, they're both important. In the bill I was working on with Chris, the ranchers want their animals to be safe, and the large corporations are worried about cost. They are both right, so we need to find a way to help the consumer so they can afford to put food on their table, while also ensuring the animals are cared for properly. Both sides have dug their heels in, refusing to budge. Some people, who shall not be named , want tax cuts for the large corporations; they believe it will offset everything. If we're being honest, we all know the additional cost will be passed along to the consumers anyway. It'll just make the corporations richer."

I sit back in the lounge chair, and she sighs in defeat. "I love that you have the courage to speak your mind, but I could never do what you did. If I wanted a chance of running— and winning —it would have to be in my father's party, and I'd need to bend to the will of everyone around me."

Taking her hand in mine, I swipe my thumb back and forth along hers. "Run for a House seat next year or in the midterms. Be honest in your campaign with what you believe in. It doesn't matter which party—you'll win. "

"Maybe in a few cycles. I'm not ready. Are… are the rumors true that you're going to run for President? Your approval ratings are incredible. The country needs someone to bring everyone together."

Like you…

"My staff and fellow senators want me to. I'm happy where I'm at, politically, and I have no desire to leave Texas. I can do so much more for this country as a senator. So, no need to worry, I won't run against your husband," I chuckle, but she finds no humor in it.

Jaclyn takes her hand back and reaches behind her, rummaging in her purse and taking out an envelope. I watch her curiously as she stands and stares into the fire.

"He doesn't deserve to run," she says quietly, ripping the envelope in half, and tossing it into the fire.

"Was that…?"

"The marriage certificate I'm supposed to file when I get back home," she finishes. "I didn't marry him yesterday. Chris didn't recite his vows in front of God. You did. The document is a lie. He only wanted to marry me because of my last name, as a one-way ticket to the Oval." Her gaze shifts to me. "Fuck that. I'm not his wife."

I try my best not to laugh at her rare curse. Realization settling in, the blood drains from my face at her admission. "By that logic, you're…" I can't speak the words. No. She's not mine, can never be mine, even though I promised myself to her at the altar .

"We're stuck in a web of deceit. When we're back home, I'll find a way out of it."

"And until then? What do you want?"

Jaclyn steps over her chair and surprises me by straddling my lap. Her hands resting on my chest, she replies softly, "The one man I shouldn't."

I grip her thighs, and a quiet moment passes between us, heat dancing in her eyes from the flames that mirror everything I'm feeling. "You know this is a terrible idea."

In the end, she'll go back to Chris, and I'll be left to settle for someone who doesn't make me feel half what Jaclyn has in two days. I'll be stuck on the sidelines, watching my brother spend the rest of his life with her. I don't get to keep her, but damn it , I want to.

As I cup her cheek, she leans into my touch. "You deserve so much more than the web of deceit, princess."

"So do you." Jaclyn closes the distance, tilting her head to the left, and kisses me. It's gentle, cautious, and full of promises neither of us will be able to keep. Her sweet hum is a knife to my heart—that she's already stolen and will break in two . As reckless as it is kissing her, touching her, I'll risk it all if it means Jaclyn is mine while we're here. I nip at her bottom lip, teasing her for entry which she quickly grants me. As my tongue sweeps across hers, I selfishly slide my hands up her thighs and grip her smooth ass, pulling her closer.

"Where's your underwear, Miss Taylor?" I ask, smiling against her lips.

She grinds her bare pussy against me, dampening my shorts. "Should I go find them, Mr. Blake?"

If she keeps it up, I'll end up coming from a damn dry hump; I need to slow this down. Shifting one of my hands to cup her pussy, I slowly circle her clit, and swallow her gasps. "If we're doing this, really doing this , you're coming on my hand and my tongue before you get anywhere near my cock."

Jaclyn moans into my mouth, and it beats her whimpers and hums by a long shot. "Wh-what about you?"

"Do you have any idea how much I want this, want you? Making you come is just as much for me as it is for you, princess." I slip two fingers inside her tight pussy, and she writhes at my touch. Jealousy and possessiveness overcome me, and I break away from her lips, trailing kisses along her jaw to her neck, whispering against her skin, "You're right. I married you yesterday. You're my wife, not his. You'll ride my hand until you make a fucking mess all over my lap, and when I take you over the edge, you scream my name."

As I curl my fingers, Jaclyn pulls her dress over her head and tosses it to the ground. She's an absolute vision, and I'm terrified that any minute now, I'll wake up from this incredible dream. Savoring her silky skin under my fingertips, I take my time sliding my hand up her side, needing to memorize every inch of her .

She grips the chair and grinds her clit against my palm, her eyes never leaving mine as she chases her orgasm. My name tumbles from her lips as a moan, making my painfully hard cock strain against my shorts. "Just like that, beautiful. Keep going."

I lean forward and take one of her taut, pink nipples between my teeth, swirling my tongue around it, then do the same to the other side. Her breath is broken, and I can't get enough, desperate to devour every inch of her.

" Fuck , do that again," she manages.

Swiping my thumb against one and teasing the other with my mouth, it's enough to send her over the edge. Her pussy tightens around my fingers, flooding my hand with her release as she breathes my name. I slow my curling to a lazy pace, my shorts soaked. Pulling my fingers from her, I bring them to my mouth, sucking them clean, and I'm fucking ruined—she's heaven on Earth.

Collapsing on top of me, her words are ragged. "That… was…"

The ache to feel her naked body pressed against mine is too much. As I kiss her shoulder, I whisper, "Sit back for one second." She does, and I'm able to remove my shirt before she settles herself on top of me again. I wrap my arms around her, unable to imagine a world where I'll ever be able to let her go.

How the fuck am I going to hand her over to my brother in a couple of weeks?