Page 98 of The Americana Playbook

“Go take a shower,” I answer gruffly. “Acoldone.”

I’ve got no shame at this point.

She pulls her hand back, dropping it to her side. I don’t know if it’s a victory or a loss for me, but I let her know I take it as a win. “Chicken.”

Parker shakes her head. “You missed something.”

I raise an arm to scratch the back of my head because I’ve got to do something with my hands if I’m not going to run them along her body. “What’s that?”

The moment her lips crash to mine, I know she’s right. I read this play all wrong. There’s nothing chicken about Parker right now as her mouth works against mine. She’s the fucking fox in the hen house, and I’m her prey. Every bit of me. I’m victim to Parker’s lips, her breath, her teeth that nip at my lip, but I nearly pass out at the throaty whimper that I taste.

When Parker pulls back, I still find the same smile on her face. “You missed the blitz.”

Her sweet breath fans into my mouth, which is still resting open. I might’ve missed the blitz, but she doesn’t get it. The play isn’t dead.

With both hands, I cup her face and yank her lips back to mine.

I polishoff my second glass of champagne—because my mother told me tobe a ladywhen I ordered a vodka on the rocks even though she’s throwing this party with a full bar.

The light, bubbly champagne isn’t masking the taste of Fitz that still lingers on my tongue. It doesn’t wash away the feel of his hands as they slid from my face, down my neck and sides, digging into my waist. Even though I touched up my makeup, I swear the scent of him has somehow permeated the pores of my cheeks, my chin. My face smells like him. The crisp and masculine notes are unavoidable and intoxicating.

I try to say his name like I want him to stop, but it comes out in sync with every other part of me. And Fitz meets me at every point, as if we’re in a race.

He drags his mouth away from mine, sweeping it down my neck, leaving a trail of kisses and licks and nips that have me squirming.

“Red line,” I pant, but clutch the back of his head when his lips meet my collarbone, as we fall onto the bed.

“Red line,” I mewl, even though I spread my legs wider so his hard length can press against me.

“Red line,” I whimper as his warm fingers dance up my thighs.

Fitz’s hand slides up my body, over the dress before he cages me in strong forearms, my chest heaving in anticipation of seeing his face, but I can’t handle it. I turn, sinking my teeth into the flesh below his wrist.

He paints my ear with his warm breath and husky voice. “Give me that lipstick. I’ll draw you a new one.”

“Can I get you a refill?”

Yanked out of my thoughts, I find Congressman Cam now leaning against the table I stand at. “Cam.”

He leans forward, for a half hug that’s one hundred percent full of awkwardness on my part. “It’s good to see you, Parker. It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” I say, when he pulls away. “I think the last time I saw you, you were in a unitard.”

Cam laughs, running a hand up to push back his combed, blond hair. “Yeah, well, I’ve retired the uni. But you’ll still find me Sculling on the Potomac every now and then when I’m down here.”

Still a semi-douchebag then.

“Silly me,” I say. “I didn’t think civil servants had much downtime.”

“Very little. Obviously, my constituents are my priority.”

I nod, looking around. “I’m sure even though it’s after business hours, you’re working now. Seems many of your colleagues are here.”

“We all appreciate your father.”

“You appreciate what the Montgomery name can do for you,” I translate. I’m sure the dozens of senators and congressmen here tonight could care less about my engagement. They’re just putting in the work for potential presidential appointments.

“I was hoping to catch up when I knew you were in town. I just didn’t imagine doing it at your engagement party. Congratulations, by the way.” He nods at my ring. “I never thought Fitzy had it in him.”

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