The President's Secret Baby: A Second Chance Romance Page 14

  I give her a cheeky grin.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Over the food, we don’t talk much. A few comments about work today and what needs to be done tomorrow.

  And I’m starting to wonder if it’s all too obvious or a cliché.

  But then, Beatrice does love a good romantic cliché.

  I take a few deep breaths as the servers bring in the dessert plates.

  Beatrice looks very relaxed, smiling at me and laughing over some political cartoon she saw earlier.

  As the food is served, she gives me a coy grin.

  As instructed, the servers all leave the dining room, so that the two of us can enjoy the rest of the night alone.

  What’s coming is a private moment meant to be shared strictly between Bea and myself.

  That’s it.

  “Should I be surprised that it’s my favorite, again? Raspberry and rhubarb crumble with vanilla ice cream. What’s going on, Henry?”

  I can’t wait any longer. I slip the velvet box out of my pocket and hold it just under the table.

  “Beatrice, you know how much you mean to me. And you know this isn’t just a casual fling for me. But, more importantly, you know that when I want something...I go and get it.”

  I get up and move around the table.

  When I reach her side, I go down on one knee, and her mouth immediately drops open.

  Her caring expression is replaced by shock.

  This is it, folks.

  I crack the box open.

  “Beatrice. Will you marry me?”

  For a few painful seconds, she stares at me.

  “Yes! Henry, Yes!”

  She throws herself off the chair and into my lap, arms going around my neck.

  I grab her as she falls into my arms, letting her slip into my lap so I can slip the ring on her finger.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispers, holding it up to the light.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  I can’t take my eyes off her.

  She looks up into my eyes, and I can see her dark eyes dancing with shock, delight, and love.

  We kiss, so softly at first.

  Her hands grab at my neck, pulling me closer and I push forward.

  For a second, hands, lips, and tongues are going everywhere, and it’s a bit like being in the backseat of a car—except we’re sprawled across the floor of the White House dining room.

  Her body pressed against mine feels amazing, hot, and throbbing. She’s running her nails across the back of my head, and I can’t get enough of feeling her curves through the soft dress.

  She kisses me harder, drawing me down to her with both hands. Her legs wrap around me, and I don’t think I can take it another second.

  With one hand, I begin to remove my jacket, and Bea moves her hand to my belt.

  She’s staring up at me with a grin on her face.

  “So, I take it we’re skipping dessert?”

  “Skipping? Are you kidding me? After I’m done with you, I’m eating that crumble. Melted ice cream, or not.”

  There’s a quick laugh between us that is ended by another heated kiss.

  My jacket gets tossed to the side, and beneath me, Bea has unfastened my belt and pants.

  With one hand, she grips the base of my shaft, moaning into our kiss as she firmly begins to stroke it.

  The other one hand moves to pull off her panties. She struggles at first, but with a little bit of wiggling, they slip off.

  We look into each other’s eyes, grinning like horny teenagers at prom.

  I take a moment to brush her hair back from her face, letting her features fall into my eyes, her image to live there forever.

  Her left hand comes up and links with my right, our fingers locking together.

  The smile slowly fades from her face, as she rocks her hips against me.

  I reach down with a hand, drawn in by the wet warmth wafting from her, and I slip in smoothly and easily.

  A gasp slips out of her as I fill her to the hilt with my cock.

  She’s so incredibly wet, that I can feel her juices dripping off of my cock with each slow thrust.

  Bea grips at the collar of my shirt, so many expressions race across her just in the first few strokes. Her eyes widen with wonder. They close as her head rolls back, and she moans, crying out sharply.

  I’m alive with the sensation of being inside her, but my focus is on her face. I want to see every feeling flash across it.

  She rocks her hips back and forth, eyes closed, and I feel it start.

  Watching the pleasure sweeping across her face as she frowns and smiles at the same time, I feel her body tightening.

  Then comes the muscle spasms and clenching, pumping me as I take several deep breaths trying to keep myself together.

  She reaches up with her lips, and I fall upon her mouth with mine, drinking her up as I thrust.

  Her small moans slipping out around our tongues only encourage me as I thrust harder and faster.

  Our lips part as she clasps her hands over her mouth to dull her scream as she comes around my cock.

  I lean back to watch her as she does, grinning in triumph, as she tries to center herself from her climax.

  Her hands move to my face, her thumbs sliding over my kiss-swollen lips while she catches her breath.

  “Come for me,” she demands in a breathy whisper.

  Normally, I’d make some quip about her giving orders to her president, but I’m so wrapped up in the moment that I nod and quicken my pace.

  Each thrust is met by hips pushing back against me.

  Our lips meet again, and our tongues wrestle for control.

  My thighs are the first to twitch and shake.

  Then comes the growl from my core that fills our kiss.

  Her hands have moved down to my ass, and her nails dig into my flesh as she pulls me closer into her.

  I bury my cock as deep into her as I can and let myself go.

  As soon as I feel my own deep spasms start, she grinds her hips into me and comes again.

  The crashing waves ecstasy roll over me, and I collapse against her.

  The two of us ride our incredible highs, and I’m not sure who’s holding who anymore.

  Once my brain starts to function again, I’m met with one clear thought—all I want is Beatrice.

  From now, until the end of time.

  Chapter 30

  Beatrice

  I smile as I look in the mirror, admiring the way the dress fits and how happy I am to be able to do this. The dress that I picked is stunning—if I do say so myself—and it complements Henry’s outfit quite well.

  For the past hour though, my stomach feels like it’s being turned upside down.

  I brace myself against the wall as I take a deep breath. After a moment of focusing on my breathing and closing my eyes, I start to feel normal again.

  I stand up straight. If only I was feeling better…not that it’s going to stop me from hosting or get in the way of this evening’s event—I don’t think anything could. But to be honest, it is a bit irritating.

  I’ve got a big night ahead of me, and I’m not going to let something as minor as a stomachache stop me from doing this.

  I’m going to host a room full of foreign dignitaries, and I want to make a good impression for both me and Henry. Because, being the youngest president, Henry always has people looking for a reason for him to fail or for a weakness, and I refuse to become either of those.

  I haven’t felt well since lunch, so it was probably just something I ate. But it seems to have tapered off by now, and seeing my dress is definitely lifting my spirits—not to mention the absolutely perfect and gorgeous engagement ring that Henry gave me.

  I look down at my hand and bring it up into the air, splaying my fingers open, so I can get another good glance at how it looks on my hand.

  I don’t think he could have picked a better ring for me, and I’m beyond happy.

/>   I stroll back over to the dresser to pick up the earrings I decided to wear. I carefully put them on and make one last check in the mirror before I head out to greet our guests with Henry.

  I’m escorted to the entrance of the main dining hall by our security team. I smile when I see Henry waiting for me, holding his hand out.

  “Well, don’t you look absolutely beautiful.”

  I blush and smile back at him—I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing him say that.

  I take his hand into mine as we walk together towards where the guests will soon be. I wink at him and follow his lead.

  “You look pretty damn handsome yourself, Mr President.”

  We get to the entryway of the dining hall. We stand off to the side as instructed, greeting people as they come through.

  It’s easy enough, exchanging pleasantries and greetings…but my god. It’s getting tiresome. I’ve only been at this five minutes and I already feel tired. I want to sit down.

  Also, whatever was bothering me earlier is still bothering me, and I feel the familiar queasiness that I felt earlier this evening when I was getting ready.

  Really? Now? Of all times!

  It hits me like a brick wall, and it takes every ounce of my strength to keep a smile plastered across my face as I greet the next dignitary: an Italian senator, the same one I was seated next to at the Italian State Dinner.

  He stops to chat, of course. And normally, I’m supposed to be thrilled that I was sitting here, schmoozing with him; but right now, all I can focus on are the waves of nausea making me dizzy. Thankfully, my stomach settles again, and he moves on and doesn’t seem to notice my lack of focus.

  Henry and I stand there for a little while longer, conversing with and greeting everyone as they pass through the arch to the dining hall. And every now and then, I feel a loving squeeze on my hand from Henry, letting me know he’s there.

  I sneak a few smiles his way, and relief washes over me when the last guest waltzes through, allowing us to finally take our seats at the table.

  Henry and I are seated next to each other; it’s a comfort to be able to reach over and touch his hand, brush my leg against his, or even just feel the heat of him next to me. Not that the dinner is unpleasant, of course, but given the fact that I’ve never been hostess of a State Dinner before, every little bit of comfort helps.

  We’re served our meal, and I only pick at it, not wanting to risk feeling sick again. It’s orange duck, garlic vegetables, and a lovely risotto. Usually, all of those things would make my mouth water, but right now; I can’t stand the smell.

  Whatever I ate was really doing a number on me, and I make a mental note to double check my meals from here on out.

  Henry finishes addressing someone across from us, and once again, I start to feel sick on my stomach. This time, however, it’s not easing up after a few minutes.

  I look around the room and focus on one of the floral arrangements down the table, steadying my breathing in an attempt to calm my stomach—and fail.

  I’m going to be sick, and I’m sitting next to the president of the United States at the State Dinner, surrounded by high-ranking politicians and dignitaries. As if the papers didn’t have enough headlines on me already.

  I snap out of my thoughts when the table erupts in laughter, and I laugh along with them when I realize that Henry’s told some sort of joke. There’s a break in conversation, and I decide to take the opportunity to get out of here when I feel my stomach lurch.

  I smile at Henry, then to our guests at the table as I stand, placing my hand softly on his shoulder when I excuse myself.

  He stands as I leave and leans in to give me a quick peck on the cheek, whispering into my ear as he does.

  “You alright, Bea?”

  I nod, giving him my best smile despite the fact that there’s what feels like a tidal wave of nausea in my stomach.

  “I’m fine, I just need to go to the ladies room. I’ll be right back.”

  He seems to buy it, so I make my way to the ladies room quickly, but not in such a rush to make anyone notice. I’m immediately thankful for the fact that there’s no one else in there when I get inside.

  I quickly shut the door and throw myself over the porcelain, barely getting the lid up before I’m sick.

  After I unceremoniously rid myself of the contents of my stomach, I stand, feeling shaky and unsteady. I slowly walk over to the sink.

  I run the cold water and splash it against my neck; the shock of the cold water against my heat-strained skin feels pleasant and grounding.

  I take a deep breath and look at myself in the mirror. I’m relieved to see that my hair is still in place, and my makeup is, for the most part, completely fine.

  I gargle some mouthwash and rinse before I re-apply my lipstick, blotting it with a napkin before I throw it in the trash. I guess I just needed to be sick, because not only do I now feel fine, I’m starving.

  My stomach releases a low growl, and I shake my head, chuckling. Well, we’ve still got another course to go, so I’ll have plenty to eat when I get back to our table.

  I glance into the mirror, giving myself one last check before I open the door with a smile and follow my security back to the table.

  As I’m seated, they bring around the next course, and the smell of it nearly makes my mouth water. I smile at Henry when we’re served and eagerly dig into the meal, thankful that I’m finally feeling better.

  Chapter 30

  Beatrice

  I roll my chair back from my desk and take a deep breath as I close my eyes, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that I feel like I’m going to be sick again. After a moment, the nausea finally passes, and I’m relieved—but at the same time, fed up.

  I lean forward and place my elbows on the desk. I rest my face in my hands, letting out a sigh.

  When is this going to end? I’ve already been sick twice today, and it’s not even noon. How the hell am I supposed to focus on getting anything done when I constantly have to excuse myself?

  It’s been two days since the State Dinner, and I can’t seem to shake whatever it is that’s making me feel ill. I’m fine one minute, and then the next, it’s like I’m battling the monster of all stomach bugs.

  It obviously wasn’t just something I ate, like I initially thought; otherwise I would have felt better by now. If it were food poisoning, it would have worked its way through by now.

  The flu, then? No, I don’t think it is, or else other people would be sick as well. And I don’t have any of the other symptoms—no aches or fevers, no chills—just nausea and a little bit of dizziness here and there.

  It’s not even like I’m nauseous all the time, either. Sometimes, I’ll feel fine, but then I’ll smell something, and my stomach will lurch, and I’ve got to beeline it out of there.

  And the mornings? Ugh, the mornings are the worst. The past two days, I’ve woken up and immediately had to throw up. It just doesn’t make any sense.

  I jolt upright and gasp, my hand darting to my mouth.

  No, no, no, no, no.

  I jump out of my chair and start pacing the room, thankful for the fact that I’m alone during this realization. If someone were around right now, I don’t think I’d be able to form coherent enough sentences to even ask them to leave.

  I start making a mental checklist, and my heart thuds faster in my chest with every passing second. I can feel a fresh wave of sickness coming already.

  Sickness in the mornings? Check.

  Normal everyday things making me nauseous? Check.

  Random sickness throughout the day that passes as soon as it comes? Check.

  I dart into the private bathroom attached to the office and throw the door closed behind me. I lean forward, retching into the sink.

  After I’m done, I splash cold water on my face. I stand and glance at myself in the mirror, making sure that I look alright and not like I just threw my guts up for the third time today. I then adjust my hai
r until I feel satisfied before walking back to the office.

  I sit down in the chair. First order of business is picking up my phone and dialing Hope’s number.

  She picks up on the second ring, and I’m relieved. I really didn’t want to have to track her down or leave a voicemail.

  “Hey, Beatrice. How’s it going?”

  I laugh nervously and lean back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose and sighing as I reply. “Well, I’ve certainly been better.”

  “Oh, no. Were you sick again? Sheesh, you’re really having a hard time shaking whatever this is, aren’t you? Can I get you anything?”

  Well, she did ask.

  I try to keep my tone even when I answer and pray that she’s alone.

  “Actually, yes. You could get me a pregnancy test.”

  I sit there and wait while she’s silent on the other line.

  There’s a brief second where I think maybe I’ve lost her, but then I hear her take a breath and clear her throat.

  “Hope?”

  “Yes, I’m here. Of course. Could you be? Are you sure?”

  I roll my eyes. Of course I’m not sure, hence the test.

  “Well, no, I’m not, which is why I’m asking you to get me a test.”

  “Right. Just give me a second, okay?”

  I can hear her fumbling her desk drawer through the phone, and then what sounds like papers and folders, and then muffled voices. After a moment, she’s back, and the second I hear her words, it feels like my blood freezes in my veins.

  “Beatrice? Hi, I actually had one in my desk. It’s being sent over with an intern right now.”

  Is she serious? She’s sending me a pregnancy test with an intern. Great, that’s not going to create some gossip or anything.

  I hiss back at her, and I get up and shut the office door, so no one walking by can see or hear me.

  “Hope. Are you kidding me? I want to keep this private, and you send a pregnancy test with an intern? What are you thinking?”

  “Relax, Beatrice. I sent an intern your way with an envelope of important documents I need you to sign. It’s tucked inside, between two of the folders. Just open the envelope alone and you’ll be fine.”