Page 113 of Dignity

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I stay a little longer at Lauren’s before I text the Secret Service agent—who informs me the car is already sitting outside and waiting for me.

I’ll have to get used to this level of supervision.

I peek through her viewfinder to discover, yes, there’s a car sitting there.

I kiss Lauren goodbye and head to the awaiting car. “Sorry about that, guys,” I tellthem when I climb in the backseat. “If I’d known you were out here, I would have invited you in to wait. We were just talking work.”

“It’s okay, sir,” the driver says. “We’re used to it. Agent in charge decided he wanted us here, just in case.”

The base of my spine tingles. “Specific threats?”

“No, an abundance of caution.”

“Ah.”

I settle in for the ride back to the hotel. Some chiefs ofstaff had certain swaths of power in some areas, some were little more than schedulers. JFK and Jimmy Carter eschewed chiefs of staff at their peril.

Shea has already told the Secret Service that I am to have complete and unrestricted access to her and Chris, 24/7/365. Whether it’s interrupting a phone call if I need to get her attention, or getting me into a closed-door meeting. The only thingI will be restricted by is clearance access regarding certain national security issues.

I let myself into the suite, thinking I’d need to be quiet, just to find the larger bedroom door standing open and both of them sitting in bed, still mostly dressed, and watching TV.

When Shae spots me, she bounces out of bed, runs to me, and jumps into my arms. She’s barefoot and has shed her suit jacket.

This kiss is deep and sexy and hardens my cock. It also piles a mountain of guilt on me that I shove away. Lauren is the best for the job and will help Shae. It’s in the best interest of the country. I can live with the lie of omission to Lauren under those circumstances.

“Where were you?” she asks when she finally lets me breathe again.

“Had to go hire our press secretary before I was swarmedwith press myself.”

Chris is shirtless, and barefoot, but he’s still wearing his slacks. He climbs out of bed and joins us, wrapping his arms around both of us and kissing me. “I was about to send agents out looking for you, asshole.” He fists my hair and tips my head back. He means business, and his tight grip nearly brings tears to my eyes. “Do noteverdisappear like that again.”

“Sir,” Isay, struggling not to drop into subspace or down to my knees, “Ihadto do this tonight. It waswork. They knew where I was. They had the address and even sent a car for me.”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t want to start the private celebration without you.”

I can’t deny a little thrill runs through me over that declaration.

All right, a big-ass thrill.

“And someone owes me a spanking for gettingsnarky with me when he left,” Chris adds. “For the permission comment.”

“And the ‘I know’ comment,” I add.

Because, apparently, I havezerosense of self-preservation when it comes to this damn man.

Shae giggles. She does the same thing with him though. All the time.

Not that I think Chris forgets or misses shit. He sees and hears it aaaalllll. Sometimes the sadist is a softy.

But I’m notstupid enough tosaythat.

Chris snags my hand and leads me into their bedroom and closes the door behind us. He switches off the TV and puts on music.

All three of us break into laughter when Queen’s “These Are the Days of Our Lives” plays.

“Iswearthat’s Pandora!” he says.