Struck from the Record (11 page)

“But it’s all right,” Clay said.

Clay tugged Andrea closer to him and teasingly brought his lips down on hers. She squirmed for a minute, clearly uncertain about doing this at her event under the close scrutiny of the last guy she had been fucking. But she eventually gave in and kissed him back.

“Andrea,” Asher said with a pointed cough.

“You did know she had a boyfriend, right?” Clay asked, not letting Andrea say a word.

He could hear a slight groan next to him, but he ignored her. He was too focused on the look of confusion on Asher’s face.

“You’re her…boyfriend?”

“Obviously.”

“Since when? Two or three weeks, Andrea?”

Clay laughed derisively. “Weeks? Try years. But it’s interesting how you think you can talk to her when she’s been mine since we were thirteen.”

“Clay,” Andrea whispered, “just let it go.”

Asher was looking at Andrea now, and Clay could see the guy was hurt by his words.
Good. The poor sap. Thought she’d actually cared about him and wasn’t just another game.

“No, he needs to know, baby,” Clay told her. “She’s mine. So, whatever you’re thinking, I’d turn around and walk away because it’s never fucking happening.”

Asher took one more look at Andrea, gritted his teeth, and then disappeared.

Good riddance.

Andrea smacked Clay on the arm, bringing him back to reality. “Why did you have to do that?”

“What do you mean, why did I have to do that?” Clay asked. “He can’t have you, Andrea.”

“He already
knows
that I don’t want to date him, Clay. He knows. I told him after the attack. I had no interest in him anymore. You didn’t have to rub salt in the wound.”

He dipped his head real close to her again. His nose brushed against hers, and he ran a hand down her back. “You’re wrong about that. That was exactly what I needed to do because, now, he knows
why
you ditched his ass. And that you’re with me, Andrea. With me.”

He kissed her again, full on the mouth. Something had possessed him when he saw Asher and the way he looked at Andrea. Something had crawled straight out of Clay’s chest and breathed fire.

But the look on her face now brought it all back into perspective. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her look at him like that. Like putty in his hands. Complete and total adoration. Guess she didn’t mind that he’d put his foot down, which was good because he wouldn’t have been able to stop even if he’d wanted to.

That night, they didn’t even make it back to their house in the suburbs. Andrea’s place was closer, and he didn’t even care at this point. He just wanted to be with her. They stumbled through the door, and Clay hoisted her into his arms and went straight to her bedroom.

She sank into the down comforter with a sigh. “What you said back there,” she murmured.

He stripped out of his suit. “What did I say?”

“That I’m with you.”

“Of course you’re with me,” he insisted.

He reached for her black dress and slid it off her body, finding her without underwear and only in a skimpy black bra. She flicked it off and tossed it across the bedroom.

“Come here.” She crooked her fingers at him, and he obliged.

He had been fantasizing about sliding his dick inside her body ever since he’d seen her in that fucking dress at the gallery. Plus, he was just so fucking proud of her. He didn’t know how much money she had made tonight, but it didn’t even matter with that smile on her face.

He started at her knee, leaving a trail of kisses up her inner thigh. He blew hot on her most sensitive area before moving up her stomach and to her tits. Fuck, he loved her tits. He flicked his tongue over one as he took the other between his fingers.

She moaned, wrapping her legs around him and drawing him closer. “Oh, Clay, I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Fuck, me, too.”

“I just want you inside me,” she purred.

“Plenty of time for that.”

She shivered as he switched to the other nipple, his hands roaming her body and taking in every curve.

“Say that you’re mine,” she whispered.

“You’re mine,” he repeated against her skin.

She laughed softly. “No. Say that I’m yours.”

“I’m yours.”

“Oh, yes, I love the sound of that.”

“If you keep crying out like that, I’m not going to be able to control myself.”

“Then, don’t,” she said.

She positioned herself against his cock and rubbed up and down on him. It was fucking hot and showed him how wet she already was.

“Fuck,” Clay groaned.

He aligned their bodies and then thrust into her. She moaned loudly, only making him push harder into her. God, she felt amazing. Her nails dug into his back. Their bodies smacked together.

It wasn’t like this with anyone else. Andrea seemed to know his body as well as he knew hers.

He slammed into her over and over again. She tilted her head up to stare into his eyes. Something was stirring in those eyes. Her face was awash with passion and desire, but still, there was something else.

“Oh, Clay,” she groaned. “Finish me off, baby.”

And he did. He thrust into her a few more times, and then they both lay back on the bed, spent.

“That was amazing,” she whispered, curling into his shoulder.

He shifted to go clean up, but she reached out and grabbed his arm. “Will you stay the night?”

“Where did you think I was going?” he asked with a laugh.

“I don’t know.”

“Just the bathroom. I’ll be back.”

When he returned, she cleaned herself up and then wrapped herself around him.

He felt like he was about to pass out from the exhausting round of sex when she whispered so softly that he barely heard it, “I like being yours…and I’m glad you’re mine.”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. They had been each other’s for so long…so nothing really needed to be said.

He just kissed the top of her head, listened to her sigh contentedly, and fell asleep with her in his arms.

Chapter 10

INAUGURAL BLISS

The day had finally arrived—the presidential inauguration. D.C. bulged to bursting with visitors hoping to catch just a short glimpse of the new president as she took her oath into office. Last election had brought in a record two million additional people into the already busy city, and this year was predicted to be even larger. Everyone wanted to remember how they’d stood on the sidelines in the freezing weather to watch history being made.

Clay had watched the sidelines of history his entire life. Since congressmen were required to be in attendance, his family had been at so many different inaugurations that he had lost count. This one was just like all the others—crisp and cold with the early morning haze burning off from the sun’s rays peeking through the clouds. Thankfully, it wasn’t raining. He’d sat through rain before, and everyone had gotten terribly sick afterward. No, he hoped the rain would hold off until tomorrow at least.

Instead, he’d have to make do with shivering in the many layers he’d packed under his peacoat while he labored through speech after speech. He was pretty tired of the sidelines, to be honest, but at least he had a
seat
, unlike the droves of people stretching into the distance.

His mother was seated next to him, chatting away with the Atwoods—Gina and Matthew. Their children—Chris, Lucas, and Alice—were in the row behind him with Savannah and her boyfriend, Easton.

Andrea was currently bundled up in the seat next to him. She had one hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket. He laced their fingers together, which brought a huge smile to her face—one she had been wearing every day since the art gallery.

“Oh my God,” Liz cried, rushing over toward them through the crowd and interrupting the moment between him and Andrea.

But Andrea just smiled. She’d been in such a great mood. The sex had been mind-blowing with her being so happy like this. And he’d thought it’d been killer before.

“What’s going on?” Andrea asked.

Liz plopped into the chair next to Andrea. “It is a madhouse! Be glad that Clay is already with you,” she said, brushing her long blonde hair out of her face. “Brady got all caveman on me when I said I had to find my
own
seat! He didn’t want me to leave his side, but it’s not like I can sit with all the congressmen!”

“He just likes having you with him,” Andrea said sensibly.

Liz brightened at the words. “Yeah. He’s a little protective.”

“A little?”

“A lot,” she admitted. “But he had to be during all the election chaos we had to deal with.”

Andrea tapped Liz on the hand. “Honey, that runs in the Maxwell blood.”

Clay snorted.

“I’ve noticed,” Liz said, looking pointedly at Clay.

“You’re lucky though,” Andrea said. “Brady is a great guy. A respectable man. It was nice to see him settle down and with someone who could keep up with him.”

That sounded strangely like a compliment. Clay had never really been sure what Andrea thought of Liz. Their first meeting, in which Andrea had called Liz boring and promptly told him not to fuck her, had been pretty memorable. Since then, the two hadn’t exactly gotten off on the right foot, but it seemed that they both were becoming more accommodating to the other. He didn’t even know when that had happened. He seemed to be missing a lot lately.

Liz shot Andrea a surprised look, and then her gaze moved down to her engagement ring. “I’m glad to see him settle down, especially with everything we’ve been through.”

“This is good for you two.”

“Thanks, Andrea,” Liz said with a warm smile.

Clay pretended not to be paying attention when Liz leaned over and whispered to Andrea, “And what about you and your Maxwell brother? Can you get the black-sheep bad boy to settle down? Can you tame his ways?”

Andrea laughed. “I don’t want to tame him. I like him the way he is—wild and mine.”

Clay sighed in relief at her words. That was exactly what he’d wanted to hear. Nothing had changed. She liked things just the way they were.

“To each their own,” Liz muttered under her breath.

At that time, all conversation ceased as the inauguration began. It was an hour full of ceremony heaped upon more ceremony. The president’s official term would begin at noon on the twentieth of January. They all listened to a famous pop artist sing the national anthem. The president was sworn into office and gave a lengthy speech. Then, the ceremony ended with a benediction. An hour later, the new president would move into the White House, and the United States would shift ever so slightly.

“That’ll be Brady one day,” Liz murmured. She looked emotional about the inauguration. Must have been her first.

Clay humphed at her words. “We’ll see.”

She looked at him with her penetrating deep stare. “Yes, we will.”

At the end of the official inauguration, Clay knew that there would be endless events that he’d be forced to participate in. It was the woes of being in a political dynasty. He and Savannah, though neither had any interest in politics, would forever be swept up in the machine.

Though brisk, windy, and chilly, the day went by quickly. Andrea stood at his side for the long day of events. The perfect socialite, she knew everyone, seamlessly fitting into every conversation and navigating the D.C. elite even better than he could, which was a feat in and of itself.

More people than he could have ever realized asked her about her art business. She would animatedly go on and on about the endeavor and offer them a private viewing or to keep a lookout for a piece they’d been searching for. Her networking skills seemed to be the highlight of her career. She knew everyone, so everyone wanted to work with her. And since she was part of the elite, they trusted her and thus flocked to her.

“You’re going to run out of artwork at this rate,” Clay joked.

Andrea squeezed his arm where she was holding on to it. She had just been speaking with a couple about finding a few new paintings for their house. The woman had even asked her to come to their suburban mansion to look at the space and get her point of view on what she thought would be the best. Everything would obviously be generously paid for.

“I could never run out of artwork, but it does seem like we’re going to need to travel more,” she admitted.

“I wish I could.”

“The new job is holding you back,” she joked, leaning into him and smiling at another couple they had seen at the last luncheon.

“Holding me back or propelling me toward my real future as the attorney general?”

Andrea wrinkled her nose. “Why do you even want that job, Clay?”

“You know why.”

“Because your dad mentioned it once when he told Brady he should be president?”

“And look where Brady is now,” Clay pointed out.

“You don’t have to stand in his shadow,” she murmured. “You’re your own man, Clay.”

“This is what I want,” he said fiercely.

“Okay,” she agreed easily. “There’s that fiery passion. I missed it.”

“I’ll show you fiery passion.”

He bent down and nipped her ear. Her eyes drifted around the room, as if to find a place they could sneak off to, but there was no such place. Not here with everyone they knew in attendance and thousands of people they didn’t know crowding the space. There wasn’t a place in D.C. where they could be alone right now.