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Chapter Thirteen

A little beforetwo thirty in the morning, I leaned against the giant bay window of the den of the cabin Ashur and I would share for the next few days and watched the last of the agents conduct their final check of the building before closing the door behind them.

Even though I hated the constant protection, I understood it was a necessity. The media had swarmed the Austin–Bergstrom International Airport, wanting a glimpse of the president and first lady. Some had even gone as far as jumping the fences and triggering the remotely activated cameras and security monitors in the hanger we were supposed to use. Thankfully no one outside of our Secret Service was aware we had a planted decoy who led them to Jacinta’s mammoth estate instead of the large cabin where Ashur and I would spend our honeymoon.

It wasn’t considered remote by Texas standards, since it was just an hour and a half outside of Austin, but it was far enough removed to provide the security needed to enjoy our time together without the worry of a camera taking a picture of us. For the next few days, there would be no state visits, no official duties, and no media.

For me anyway. Technically, I was jobless.

Ashur would still have to attend a daily briefing with Veer and Tyler.

The clank of ice in glass had my gaze moving from the closed front door of the cabin and across the den to where Ashur stood at the bar. He was barefoot in only his suit pants and a button-down shirt.

He was sexy down to his toes.

How could a man’s toes look appealing?

The muscles of his broad back bunched and moved as he picked up a crystal decanter. He poured a few fingers of his favorite scotch, dropped in an orange peel, and then swirled the aromatic liquid. He took a deep gulp and closed his eyes, savoring the taste of his concoction.

He was fascinating to watch. His movements were so calm, as if he hadn’t a care in the world and was ready for a relaxing evening in. When in fact he carried the weight of our country on his shoulders.

Would we ever get to a place where we’d share everything? It scared me that I wouldn’t have the type of relationship my parents shared. Could a relationship survive if we both kept secrets?

Slowly, Ashur set his empty glass on the bar counter and turned to face me. His eyes were filled with desire, but there was also a glint of something else I couldn’t put my finger on but made a throbbing pulse deep inside my core.

My heart pounded into my ears and my breath grew shallow.

This was it.

Goosebumps prickled my skin.

Why was I so nervous? We’d technically consummated our marriage the other night, and the interlude aboard Air Force One wasn’t any less intimate.

Maybe it was because the world had watched me marry Ashur in the gardens of the White House. Effectively turning us into an American royal romance. Or the fact there was no turning back now. I was his wife for better or worse.

There was no turning back the moment I’d agreed to marry him.

Now, here we were, about to have our wedding night.

“Tara,” Ashur said as he came up to me, setting his hands on my waist.

My nipples immediately responded to my name and pebbled into hard buds.

He lifted my hair and set it on one shoulder as he grazed his evening stubble on the side of my neck.

“We can be good together. Give us a chance. I meant what I said on the phone today. I want to make this real.”

I swallowed, holding in the desire I felt as tears prickled the backs of my eyes.

“What about our history?”

“Leave it there. I don’t want anything in the way of our future.”

There was no way he’d feel the same once he learned that I’d lived a double life for the past ten years. That I was still living a double life.

“I wish it were that easy. It takes time.”

“I know.” He sighed. “Then will you pretend for our time here that we are ordinary people who are in love, who want to spend time together just learning each other. I need this, Tara. I need you. The moment we get back, all hell—”