Page 56 of The Illusion of Power (Passion and Politics #1)

Monique shifts, lying down with the soles of her feet pressed into my thigh.

“They won’t ever stop,” she mumbles, and I don’t even have to be looking at her to know that her eyes are low and heavy.

Getting high always makes her sleepy. “What I don’t understand is why the best friend always has to die.

You know if your life was a Lifetime movie, I’d end up dead. ”

“I wouldn’t let that happen. The best friend only ends up dead because the main character doesn’t listen when she tries to warn them about the psycho, and she has no choice but to investigate on her own.”

“You act like you always listen to me, Selene.”

“Name a time when I haven’t followed your advice, Monique,” I say, realizing my mistake too late because my brain is moving slower than my mouth.

“I told you to leave, Aubrey.”

“Monique, please.”

“I did,” she insists sleepily. “I hate him, and I love you. You deserve so much better.”

“I love you too.”

It’s the only response I can give, the only thing I can address.

I can’t admit to her that I hate Aubrey too.

That I spend a lot of my free time fantasizing about all of the people who want me dead turning their vitriol on him, that sometimes I hope someone will be brave enough to put the bullets they’ve etched my name into between his eyes so the choice between suffering through this life and keeping my promise to AJ is no longer mine to make.

“You can tell me, you know? What’s really going on with you and Aubrey. How you really feel about him disrespecting your home? What’s going on in your head and your life?”

I trust Monique implicitly, which is the only reason why I offer her the small bit of truth mixed with a lie. “The pictures aren’t new to me, Mo. I saw them before the world did. All of them.”

She shoots up, and I open my eyes to view her shocked expression. “ All of them? You saw her in your bed?”

“Yes,” I lie. “Things with Aubrey are tense right now, but that’s mostly just the stress of the election. None of this stuff is new, and we’re working through it privately. It’s just his opponent trying to dredge up the past to hurt him in the polls.”

My stomach turns. I hate this. The lying, the pretending, the constant pressure to perform. But I don’t hate the peace my words bring Monique. She’s not fully satisfied, but I’ve given her enough to hold on to.

“He needs to do a better job of protecting you, Sel, and if he ever hurts you again, I’m going to make you a widow.”

The threat lingers in the air as she stretches back out on the couch.

Soon, it’s pushed out by the sound of Monique’s snores.

I’m glad she’s resting, but I can’t sleep because of the sudden craving for the bacon and cheddar potato skin chips I saw Agent Anderson polishing off before he escorted me up to my room last night.

He still had some of the dust on his jacket when I said goodnight, and it reminded me of how messy AJ would get when he ate them.

I never much cared for them, but right now, they’re the only thing on my mind.

Without putting much thought into whether or not I should, I pull on Monique’s hoodie, grab a few bucks out of her purse, and swipe a room key.

The door clicks shut behind me, and I pull the hood over my head to avoid being spotted, hitting a brisk walk as I head for the vending area.

What’s supposed to be a quick trip turns into a descending, multi-floor hunt for the one machine in the building with the snack I want.

I find it on the fifth floor, and I’m in the midst of celebrating my victory when the machine decides to take my money and keep the bag of damn chips.

“What the hell?” I mutter under my breath, shoving the machine with my hand. It doesn’t so much as budge, so I try again, and again, and again, until I’m panting and frustrated with myself for engaging in such futile behavior.

“Need some help?” A laughing, deeply familiar male voice asks.

I turn slowly, and my heart jumps into my throat when I see Cal standing in the doorway with an empty ice bucket in one hand. His arms and the defined lines of his chest are on full display thanks to the white tank top he’s wearing, and there are gray sweats sitting low on his hips.

“Hi,” I breathe, my eyes on the imprint in his pants. He’s not hard, but the kind of length and girth he’s working with is impossible to hide.

“My eyes are up here, pet,” he whispers, chuckling lowly. The use of my nickname forces me to acknowledge that we’re alone. That there is no one watching, and, thanks to Monique insisting that I spend the night, no one waiting for me to return.

I am, for all intents and purposes, free.

The thought, coupled with the heat in Cal’s gaze when I finally manage to bring my eyes back to his face, makes my thighs clench with delicious anticipation.

“What are you doing down here alone?” he asks. “I thought Harris was on duty. I didn’t see him in the hall.”

My snack all but forgotten, I start to move toward him. There’s no intention behind it, it’s almost a helpless thing, like he’s a magnet, and I’m a piece of metal. “We sent him away.”

He watches my advance with cautious eyes. “We? Who’s we?”

“Monique and I.”

I’m close enough now to smell him. There’s sweat on his skin and the faint scent of our lover. Cal is spice and smoke while Beck is a forest after a fresh rain, quiet and refreshing.

“You made love.”

It’s not an accusation, but an observation.

Cal confirms with a dip of his chin, and I’m immediately struck with thoughts of what that might have looked like.

They’re both so beautiful, so powerful and strong.

The idea of them devouring each other, surrendering to the most primal of needs, makes my pussy throb viciously.

“Are you angry?”

“No.”

“Jealous again?”

I bite my lip, nodding as I inch even closer to him. I could touch him now, but I don’t because I know what will happen next, and we can’t risk it happening here. Cal pulls in a sharp breath as the reality of what we could do to each other passes between us.

“Where’s Monique now, pet?”

Our hands dangle at our sides, knuckles grazing ever so lightly. It’s a ghost of a touch, but there’s raw potential hidden in it, echoing in the millimeters of space left between our skin when it ends.

“She’s sleeping. The edible she forced me to take knocked her out.”

His brows lift, reaching for his hairline. “You’re high?”

I shake my head, not wanting to get sidetracked. “I was for about five minutes, but it wore off.”

“Oh.”

“I’m supposed to be staying in Monique’s room tonight.”

Cal blinks slowly, absorbing the meaning behind my words. “You’re not going back to the suite?”

“No,” I confirm, linking our fingers together, the decision made, my snack forgotten. “I’m coming with you.”