Madam President (47 page)

Dev laughed at Lauren's spirited reply. "Don't go giving them carte blanche, or they'll be relentless."

"And they aren't usually?"

"Good point. When Sharon does a Press recap about tonight, she'll mention that you were my date for the evening. There won't be anymore denying it. Are you ready for that?"

The answer came more easily than she thought it would. "Absolutely." Her integrity as Dev's biographer would come under heavy fire. But hadn't it already? Devlyn would stand by her, and she knew in her heart that she was up to that challenge. What she felt for Dev, how she felt about herself when they were together... it was worth the hardship.

Yes!
Dev wondered if her cheeks would sustain permanent damage if her grin grew any wider. She was so proud at the moment it nearly hurt. But she tucked the feeling away as one of the most important in her life. "Are you tired? Could I buy you a nightcap?" Dev wiggled her brows. "I happen to have an incredibly expensive brandy hidden in my room."

Lauren looked up at a sky full of a million twinkling stars. But tonight she didn't envy their position in the heavens. Tonight, things right here on Earth were pretty damned magical. They'd gone to dinner and the theater. The food had been fabulous, the performance had brought her to tears, and the company had been better still. The Secret Service had been there, as always, but ever since Dev's shooting she found it hard to resent their presence. Lauren laughed to herself.
Maybe I'm just getting used to this whole crazy life. No - not 'getting used to', just doing a better job of accepting the realities.

Despite the fact that this had been Lauren and Dev's first public event as a couple, when a normally reclusive rock star had shown up at the performance, to Lauren and Dev's delight, he'd received most of the attention. Lauren suddenly wondered if that was really dumb luck, or the machinations of a certain lanky brunette who was known to pull out all the stops when she really wanted something.

"I'm feeling nothing but wonderful right now, Devlyn." She bumped hips with the older woman. "I'm not tired at all. And I'd love to have a drink with you. But before I do, there's something terribly important that you should know."

"And that would be what, Ms. Strayer?" Dev removed the silk scarf from around her neck and draped it over Lauren's shoulders, allowing her fingertips to linger. "Don't tell me you have a jealous boyfriend who's going to show up tonight, and who I'm gonna have to punch in the nose?"

Lauren grasped Dev's hand and lifted it, examining her long fingers in the moonlight. "Have you ever actually done that?" she asked curiously. "Punched somebody, I mean?"

"Well, maybe once or twice... but I swear only when that person deserved it."

"Tch." Lauren's gave Dev's arm a little pull but didn't let go of her hand. "I don't know whether I believe that or not. I've never seen you so much as lift a hand to the kids. And you haven't pummeled the Secretary of Defense senseless, not that he has very far to go." While Devlyn did have the Devil's own temper when provoked, a gentle - even sensitive - woman lurked underneath. Lauren wondered what it would take for Dev to get mad enough to resort to violence.

Dismissing such serious musings, the writer sucked in a deep breath. The late summer air was still warm and humid. And the aroma of fresh flowers floated on the breeze. She almost regretted taking the last few steps into the White House and out of the evening air. "What I wanted to tell you, was that I hate brandy. Always have. Don't suppose it would be possible to get something complicated, like a perfectly aged, frosty mug of root beer?"

"Hmmm..." Dev pretended to think. She nodded. "Yeah, I think I can handle that order. Or at least the kitchen staff can. Maybe we'll make it two, and I'll throw in a little ice cream in mine."

"Ooooo... you've finally hit upon my idea of decadence, Madam President." Lauren smiled her greeting to several cleaning staff members who were polishing the staircase railings with practiced hands and gossiping about their favorite soap opera couples. She lifted the hem of her dress as she ascended the stairs, easily navigating them in high heels but wishing she were in sneakers nonetheless. "Should I change first?"

"Hmm, tell you what. You come with me, and I'll loan you a set of very baggy, Presidential sweats if you'd like. That's what I'm changing into." Dev turned her head and whispered into Lauren's ear. "There's only one thing more comfortable."

Lauren shivered at the feeling of Dev's hot breath tickling her ear. "If you say something with the word 'naked' in it," she paused to fan her cheeks, "I'm going to jump your bones right here in the hallway. I swear I will, Devlyn."

"And this is a deterrent exactly how?" Dev laughed, tightening her grip on Lauren's hand. "You have such a dirty mind. So I guess I'll just have to make sure I don't say
naked
until we actually get to my room. Wouldn't want to give anyone a show."

"Liar."

"Now, now, Ms. Strayer." Dev's voice held a solemn but teasing note. "Have I done anything to make you think I would be anything but a very private and very passionate lover?" She waited until a lovely, pink blush crept slowly up Lauren's cheeks and greeted her words.
Damn, she's adorable. Wish I knew what she was thinking.

Lauren swallowed hard.
Okay, you started this
.
Don't chicken out now.
"Honestly, Devlyn, I'm not sure. You haven't given me any clear signal one way or the other when it comes to..." She bit her tongue, then whispered, "You know."
There
.
That was clear as mud
.

Over the past two months the women had kissed. A lot. A whole lot. But things hadn't progressed beyond that. For the most part, Lauren was grateful. It had given her time to come to terms with certain truths about herself, and about what any romantic relationship with Devlyn would really be like. The taller woman was amazingly patient about the whole thing. Or absolutely terrified. Lauren couldn't tell which. But she was never rushed. Never pushed for more. The problem was, Lauren really wasn't nearly as patient as Dev. And as her anxieties about a more intimate, physical relationship with Dev lessened, her libido began to squawk. Loudly.

Then there was that damned book! There were only so many times a woman could read
The Joy of Lesbian Sex
before
needing
to try some of those things out. Lauren's mental picture of her and Dev doing what was talked about on page 212 was nearly enough to make her brain explode. Oh, yeah. She especially wanted to try that.

"What does 'you know' mean?" Dev tormented more. "No, no, I'm not sure what you're referring to at all." She chuckled wickedly as they turned down another corridor. "Skiing, knitting..." She opened the door to her private suite and turned a single standing lamp on. It cast the women in long shadows, but was more than enough to see by.

"Bitch."

"Is that any way to address the President of the United States? Tsk, tsk, little girl. I may just have to spank you for that." The door wasn't even shut yet, and Dev was kicking off her high heels. One sailed all the way across the room, hitting the wall with a dull thud. "Yuck. No wonder I never wear those. I don't know how you even stand those short ones you're always wearing. Ahhh, that's soooo much better," she moaned throatily as she closed her eyes and wiggled her toes.

The sound of Dev's low moan and the sight of her in that black, fitted dress, head thrown back, eyes closed, was more than enough to send every single drop of blood in Lauren's body stampeding south. "Sweet Jesus," she muttered, licking suddenly dry lips. "You really are trying to kill me, aren't you?"

Dev opened her eyes and marched over to the writer, who was now perched on the arm of the couch. She bent down and brushed her lips against Lauren's, teasing the tender skin around her mouth with nips and little licks. When they were both breathing raggedly Dev pulled back and swallowed hard, nearly undone by her own game. "Nope. I'm not teasing you at all," she lied blatantly, walking toward the dresser on slightly wobbly legs.

Lauren whimpered. "I repeat: liar." She smiled at Dev's responding chuckle. "I hate to do this to myself, Ms. Tease. But I'm afraid I'm going to need someone's help with these buttons. Emma was around when I got dressed earlier." Lauren shifted, showing Dev a row of tiny pearl buttons that worked their way from the top of her buttocks to her mid back. "I can reach them all, but they're teensy tiny and murder on my nerves. Would you mind giving me a hand?"

It would be my pleasure!
"Now who's teasing whom?" Dev moved in behind Lauren and very slowly began unbuttoning her dress. "But remember, my dear," she swept Lauren's hair off of her neck and leaned in to taste the skin there, "I don't lose gracefully." She gently undid each button, letting the back of her fingers graze over baby soft skin that hadn't been touched that way in far too long.

"Devlyn." Lauren groaned, her eyes growing hooded. Her blood began to pulse hotter in her veins, even though she knew this was Dev exacting her revenge at her request to undo the dress. Unfortunately, her body didn't seem to care. "Be nice," she ground out. "You... um... said something about sweats."

"Sure did." Dev nuzzled the writer's neck for just a second more before giving it a little nip and undoing the last button. She ran her hand up Lauren's bare back before turning on her heel and heading for her bathroom. "You know where I keep them. Help yourself."
Oh, God, I need a cold drink of water... poured over my head.

Lauren took a deep breath. She cracked open her eyes and watched as Dev disappeared into the bathroom. "Evil. Just plain evil," she whispered.

A big part of Lauren wanted to follow Dev into the bathroom. With the slightest push she suspected they'd end up in bed together. But Dev seemed content to play and tease, going forward steadily, but very slowly. Lauren could do that. She hoped. A moment of doubt assailed her, and she laughed at herself, certain that once her body's blood flow directed itself back towards her brain, she'd be okay.

The blonde woman was rolling up the sleeves on one of Dev's sweatshirts when the President exited the bathroom wearing a navy blue, fleece robe. Gone was her dress, make up and jewelry. The hair around her face was slightly damp, and she looked comfortable and content.

In the time Dev had been in the bathroom, Lauren's body temperature had managed to drop to normal. In fact, that, combined with the White House's powerful air conditioner, and Lauren was surprised to find herself fighting off a chill. She dressed, smiling as the soft material warmed her skin. In truth, she plain enjoyed wearing Dev's sweats. For one, they were Dev's and smelled different than her clothes did, despite the fact that, like Emma and the Marlowe family, she used the White House's laundry service. The second reason was it really ticked Michael Oaks off when he saw her sharing things with the President. She smirked inwardly.
Bite me, you anal retentive prick.

Dev looked at Lauren and told her with a gesture to turn around as she pulled another set of sweats out of the dresser. The writer dutifully turned and faced the door, but peeked over her shoulder just as Dev disrobed.

"Eyes front, Strayer," Dev teased while pulling on her pants.

Lauren squeaked as her head snapped forward. But she'd already gotten a nice look at an absolutely marvelous backside. Her mind strayed to their time in the Marlowe cabin in Ohio.
Oooo...this is like a sexy puzzle that I get to put together piece by piece. And at the end... oh, my.
An enormous smile curled her lips at the delicious thought.

The strong hands on her shoulders startled her out of her thoughts. "Still want that root beer?"

"Uh huh." Lauren nodded, before turning around.
Chapter Six was all about how to use food...stop it! Just stop it! You'll drive yourself insane.

Dev's bedroom was large and spacious, and they settled in a sitting area on a large, padded sofa, cuddled close together. They'd done this many times before, especially when Dev had something on her mind and just needed someone to talk to. Both women were comfortable with it, and it spoke of their growing camaraderie and intimacy as friends. Lauren pulled her legs up and leaned her head against Dev's shoulder.