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Blake nodded to one of the men running with them. The best part of running with a detail is she didn’t have to take care of her dog’s poop. That is one perk she would gladly accept.
A trash truck stopped across the street from them. A worker hopped off and threw two bags into the truck. He noticed the group running and waved to Angela. Robert had stopped to talk to her every morning she saw him. Sam had been worried he was a terrorist in disguise, but she knew good people when she saw them.
She slowed and ran in place.
“Good morning, Madam President. Winter is coming fast,” Robert said.
“I know. That’s why I’m out this morning. We may not have many more mornings that we can run. Are you an early Christmas shopper or a last-minute one?”
“Last minute, for sure. How about you? Do you get any time off to celebrate the holiday?”
“Well, you know what they say? No rest for the wicked.”
“Madam President, I don’t think there’s a wicked bone in your body. You’ve been exactly what this country needs. You’re running again, aren’t you?”
“I’m not sure. Would you vote for me if I did?”
“You know it.”
She noticed Blake’s expression. He was more patient with her when she stopped to talk to people than the previous FBI detail, but that look meant he was ready to keep moving.
“Gotta keep going. If I don’t see you before Christmas, have a good holiday, Robert.” She started running again.
“You, too, Madam President,” Robert called to her.
She turned around, running backward for a few steps to wave at him, turned, and returned to her previous pace.
Six miles later, they ran onto the White House lawn and in through a back door. Angela and Blake went upstairs to her apartment. She greeted the guard, who stood beside the door just inside the residence. He had been one of the shifters who stood outside Benji’s room the previous night. The guards rotated through a twenty-four-hour shift. She hated the idea of them working that long without a break, but Blake assured her they were fine. Shifters were stronger than humans and didn’t need as much sleep.
Penny met them at the front door, her tablet in hand, ready to work.
“Penny, the sun just came up. Don’t you sleep?”
“Yes, Madam President, but you have a busy day.”
“I had hoped you were here to tell me everything was canceled.”
Blake walked to the kitchen without saying anything. Angela had reached her limit with him, so she stomped after him. He was pouring cereal into a bowl. He stopped, looked at her, and continued.
“What is wrong with you?” she asked.
He swallowed a bite of cereal. “What makes you think something is wrong?”
“You are nice and attentive one minute and cold, refusing to talk the next.”
“I haven’t refused to talk to you. We are talking now, aren’t we?”
She waved a finger between them. “This isn’t talking.”
She waited for him to respond. He didn’t. But what he did made her even more furious. He put the bowl in the sink and stepped toward her until she had to back up against the opposite counter. He held the counter on either side of her, trapping her. She hugged her arms to her chest. He lowered his face until their lips almost touched.
“Maybe I’m not talking to you because I want to do more than talk.”
His breath was hot against her face, and the smell of cedar and citrus swirled around her, making it hard to focus on anything but him. She licked her lips and focused on his mouth. They were hot and sweaty, but none of that mattered.
“What else do you want to do?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer her. She could hear his heart beating against hers and feel his arm muscles tense. The pressure of his ever-hardening cock against her midsection drove her mad. She wanted to put it in her mouth and taste him. She wanted to stroke his shaft and feel him grow. Wetness pooled between her legs, and the ache was too much. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.
