He wants me. And Hux.
“How can I make sure he’s protected?”
“Protected how? Like physically?”
“Yes. In every way. I don’t want him loving you and then having you walk away.”
He looks away from me this time, and I hold my breath.
“If we take things slow, keep them out of the media, I don’t think he’ll have many ramifications to this. And taking it slow gives us a chance to see if it’s going to work out before we go all in. I don’t want to hurt either of you, Alison.”
He leans towards me and picks up the golden peacock feather necklace that lies between my breasts. The back of his hand rests against me for a second longer than necessary, and I know he can feel the thundering of my heart beneath it. The contact stops my breathing, and I just watch his hand turn over the emblem.
"This is beautiful." He places it where he found it, gently pressing it into my dress. His gaze locks on to mine, and he sinks back in his chair.
The air between us is thick, like a warm blanket on a cool evening. I feel him looking at me, and my cheeks flush as my eyes find his.
"What do you want out of life, Alison?”
I think about it for a long second. “I want to build a good life for Huxley and I, one that I can be proud of. One that can’t be taken away.”
“Dig deeper.”
“What?”
“Imagine yourself in fifty years,” he instructs. “What stories do you want to tell your grandkids?”
“Well,” I begin, trying to muddle through my mind, “I want to tell them about all the times I laughed, the times I cried because I was so happy. I hope I can show them pictures with lots of smiles and recall silly little picnics and tons of special moments.”
“So you want to be happy?”
“Yes. I want to be happy.”
“What does happy look like to you?”
You. Feeling like I feel when you look at me. Having this little ball of giddiness when I see you smile, this level of comfort that I haven’t felt with a man before.
But I don’t say that. Instead, I consider my options. “It looks like fall afternoons on a porch swing, summer afternoons with a glass of lemonade by a pool. Happy looks like late night talks under a pile of blankets with a man that loves me like I love him.”
Barrett’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile. He just soaks in the words, the imagery, and leans forward. “You have a way with words.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You just took the ideas in my head and said them more eloquently than I ever could’ve.”
My breath catches, my heart thundering in my chest.
“Will you try to find those things with me? Just see if we can.”
“Slowly?” I ask, my voice shaking.
I want this, I know I want this. Damn it, I want this so much it’s strangling me. It’s a risk, a shot in the dark, hope hung on the laurels of a devilishly handsome politician. But when I look in his eyes, I see something I’ve never seen in someone’s eyes before. And I want to see that for a long time.
“Fast, slow, sideways, if that’s what it takes. But I’m kind of dying over here,” he mutters, a tremble in his voice too.
As soon as I respond, my heart and vagina are all tied up. I know this. But I get the binding ready.
“Yes,” I breathe, my blood pressure soaring. “Let’s try it.”