laughs softly. “Sounds intense.”
“It will be.”
“Is it wise to keep your president waiting?”
“He’ll understand.” Grasping her ankles, I spread her open and bend down to line myself up with her. “Put your feet on my shoulders and lift your butt for me.”
“So bossy,” she murmurs, doing exactly as I asked.
“You just noticed?”
“Oh.” Her eyes roll back as I slowly push inside.
I reach over, grab a few pillows and stuff them under her hips. “That better?”
“It’s so good.” She lifts her hips higher, angling her body so I press into her in all the right places.
I don’t want this to end. Not just this particular moment.
Every moment with her.
Chapter Sixteen
Rooster
“I’m really not in the mood to get shot this morning.”
“No one’s getting shot,” Z assures me with a smirk. “Rock loves when I show up for breakfast.”
Yeah, right.
Even if that’s true—which I highly doubt—our upstate prez is known for ruthlessly guarding his family and privacy. Rock and Z have been friends for decades. His tolerance for Z barging into his home unannounced might not extend to me.
As we stomp through the woods, Z glances over at me, gaze lingering on my T-shirt. “Took you that long to get dressed and that’s what you came up with?”
“Since when are you, of all people, the fashion police?”
“It was really more of a way to express my displeasure at you taking so damn long.”
I smirk at him. “I had things to attend to.”
“Poor Shelby. The girl gonna be able to walk?”
I ignore the question as I follow him onto the path leading around the side of Rock’s house. “Uh, shouldn’t we knock on the front door?”
Z lightly steps onto the back deck of Rock’s custom-designed log cabin. “Nah, it’s fine,” he whispers, creeping over the porch to the back door.
“If Rock loves you popping in on him so much, what’s with the stealth act?”
“Where’s the fun in announcing my arrival?”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, following him. Who knew I’d need to wear a Kevlar vest before breakfast?
As he lifts his hand to knock against the glass, Hope calls out, “It’s open, Z!”
I chuckle under my breath.
“Why you leaving your door unlocked?” Z asks, shouldering through the opening.
“You can come in too, Rooster.” Hope waves her hand at me, inviting me inside.
“Thanks, Hope. For the record, this wasn’t my idea. I said we should use the front door like normal people.”
“Aw, but then I wouldn’t know it was Z stopping by.” Hope wraps one arm around him and leans up to kiss his cheek. “Where’s Lilly?”
“Still over at Murphy and Heidi’s.” His eyes widen and he grins down at baby Grace. “Morning, Gracie-baby.”
She giggles and coos as Z picks her up and carries her around, babbling nonsense at her.
Hope watches them together for a minute before turning my way. “How was Shelby’s show last night?”
Pride—that I’m probably not entitled to, since I didn’t do a damn thing—ricochets through me. “Great. I mean, I’m not an expert but I think she blew the other two acts away.”
“And you’re not biased, either.” Her mouth curves into a teasing smile. “Right?”
“Nope. Not at all.” I grin at her. “Seriously, it was wild. She had guys hanging over the railing with banners begging her to marry them.”
“She’s getting more popular. That’s good.”
Now I kind of feel like an asshole. Hadn’t meant to sound jealous. “It is. Dawson Roads asked her to sing a duet with him. I guess it’s a big deal. First time he’s had her do that on the tour.”
Z stops baby-talking to Grace and lifts his gaze to me. “Was that some sort of ‘fuck you’ to you?”
“What?” The thought had never occurred to me. “No, I don’t think so. Her manager works with Dawson too. I think he’s trying to get her more exposure. Even if it was, it only helps Shelby, so I really don’t care.”
Hope rests her hand on my forearm and squeezes. “You’re so sweet.”
“Well, I didn’t particularly enjoy them singing their ‘let’s fuck all weekend’ ballad but, you know…” I shrug.
Hope taps her chin. “‘Let Go the Night?’ He recorded that with his ex-wife or ex-girlfriend if I remember right.” She shakes her head. “Clearly, I spend way too much time scrolling through social media when I’m up with Grace.”
I shrug. “I don’t know anything about him other than he’s got roughly fifty songs about beer, bars, and brawling in his set list.”
She chuckles. “Some of his older stuff was really good, but yeah, lately it’s all the same good-ol’-boy, party anthem