Page 38 of A Man of Power

He hangs up and looks at me. His approval is self-evident as his eyes trail up my borderline inappropriate stilettos to my just-long-enough-to-not-be-inappropriate skirt to my blouse that’s just opaque enough.

He opens his mouth to protest, but I hold up my jacket and he grabs it, helping me to put it on. As he wraps it around my front, he leans in and whispers, “That’s dangerously close to being inappropriate, little dove.”

I roll my eyes. “What happened to your no-pants rule? You can’t have it both ways.”

He smirks. “Oh, yes, I can.”

I roll my eyes as he opens the passenger door for me. I get inside and watch as he walks around the car. The way he moves is…well, it’s like he owns this town, and I guess in a way, he does.

He’s likely to become a third-generation senator. His family has money to boot, and his friends are well-connected. His life was handed to him on a silver platter, but there’s this drive in him. I wonder what he’d be like if Kara hadn’t died and turned his world upside down. Would he be this enigma? He’s powerful yet guarded. I wonder if he has any fears. I’m not sure he lets anyone get close enough to allow any fears. A part of me desperately wants to break down his walls, but I’m not sure I have enough explosives to get through it.

Bastian parks the car and heads in the opposite direction of me. “Tell Harriet to meet me in the committee room.”

I nod, not bothering to ask why he can’t tell her. I make it to the office, relay the message, and settle at my desk. I can’t help but turn on the committee hearing in the background while I start putting together briefing information for his transportation bill. Time to watch this man in action.

* * *

The hearing is delayedto the afternoon when Jared’s plane is delayed. By the time it starts, I sneak into the room and sit in the back, watching. The questions are mundane, just as Bastian said they would be. Adam Blake is there as well. Their answers are well-rehearsed, the picture-perfect example of two successful company leaders who are selling their concept of a merger for the greater good. Bastian’s questions are brilliant, his words cutthroat yet fair. He has the uncanny ability to walk on a razor’s edge while not cutting his feet one little bit. How long did it take him to learn that skill? It’s like watching a master class on how to question highly intelligent people. By the end, I want to stand up and applaud, but I refrain. I slide out the door as the hearing concludes and make it all of ten steps down the hall before my phone buzzes.

Sebastian: Meet me in the whispering gallery. Now.

I roll my eyes and change direction. The whispering gallery is in the dome part of the Capitol building. If you stand on one side of the room in a particular spot, you can hear everything going on across the room. There are many tales of eavesdropping amongst the founding fathers in the early days of the building’s existence, but most of these are unlikely true since the floors had coverings that would have dampened the effect. Still, it’s a popular tourist spot.

I go and stand by a statue, trying to look nonchalant. Ten minutes go by before I hear a whisper.

“Little dove,” Bastian’s voice calls out as I look across the room and find him standing opposite me. I grin, as he makes his way over to me. He puts a hand to my back without speaking and guides me down a corridor. It takes a few moments to realize where he’s taking me. The rotunda. Now, anyone can walk across it, but to go up in the dome itself is a treat. It is highly limited as to who has access. I watch as the last tourists of the day leave the building while Bastian leads me to a corridor that will give us access to the dome.

When we get to the top, I’m shocked by the view. He presses me into a small alcove with a window, facing the National Mall.

We stand in silence as the sun sets, a swath of different oranges, pinks, and reds fill the horizon. The white monuments in front of us take on each dominant color as the sky changes with every passing second. It’s breathtakingly beautiful. No photograph could do it justice, so there we stand, Bastian’s arm around me as we watch Mother Nature’s firework show. Neither of us speaks as the world goes from bright colors to dark.

I look at the Washington Monument again. It is lit in the distance, a phallic of bright white against the now dark navy-blue sky.

“I see you couldn’t stay away today,” he says, breaking the silence.

I shrug. “I wanted to watch.”

“Following directions is not your forte, is it?”

I roll my eyes. “Well, giving them is certainly yours.”

He leans in dangerously close to me in this small, secluded space. “It most certainly is.” I shiver under his touch. His words evoke an involuntary response from my body just as much as his touch does.

“That was…beautiful,” I whisper, glancing up at him as the sky continues to darken. He timed it perfectly, but I’ve come to expect nothing less from him. It’s as if giving me this special treat of viewing the sunset from a location most citizens will never see is his way of showing me that he cares.

His hand comes up and runs along my jawline. “Not as beautiful as my view,” he says and I blush, my skin probably looking like the sunset.

I can hear voices below us, but we are the only ones up here in the dome. Pressed against this window, no one can see us. I lean up and kiss his cheek.

“Thank you,” I say softly, meaning it with all my being.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replies as he presses me flat against the window. I feel his hand slide up my leg, and he groans when he feels my bare ass. “You ‘can’ take direction.”

I can’t help the grin that forms on my face. “I’m coachable.”

His finger finds my wetness, and this time, it’s me who groans. “Bastian.” The words are barely audible. I hear the hiss of a zipper.

He places his hand over my mouth. “Stay quiet, little dove.” I feel his fingers leave me and the crown of his cock presses against my opening. He slowly enters me, as though if he’s fast, it will make noise. I don’t move at all, letting him take charge of this. He picks up the pace.

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