Page 47 of Campaign Season
Candace nodded, eyes still on the screen. “Let’s go,” she said. She looked back at the gathered reporters and journalists. "Good advice," she said. "Marry your best friend." She winked and let Ryan guide her away.
The White House
Candace walked into the residence and kicked off her heels. “God, I hate these things,” she said, making her way into the bedroom.
Jameson was lying on the bed, a book open in her hands. She glanced up, smiling faintly. “Home from the battlefront, I see.”
“Did they squeeze forty-eight hours into a day, and no one told me?” Candace groaned.
Jameson shrugged. “Maybe.”
Candace flopped down beside her with a sigh. “You had a busy day.”
“You mean playing tour guide?”
Candace smiled. “I wonder who drew up our divorce papers.”
Jameson laughed softly, the sound rumbling from somewhere deep.
“Thank you,” Candace said, leaning in for a kiss.
“For not divorcing you?”
“That’s a bonus.”
Jameson looked at Candace—really looked, studying the lines of weariness around Candace’s eyes, the way her shoulders still carried the day, and yet the strength in her presence that never wavered. There were moments, like this one, when Jameson felt the sheer weight of what it meant to love her. Not just the woman who commanded rooms, who moved nations with her voice, but the woman who kicked off her shoes at the door, who wanted to laugh in bed at night, who longed for peace in a life that never allowed enough of it.
Her chest tightened with a familiar ache. Candace had her whole being—respect, affection, desire, devotion. And still, the pace of their lives had a way of slipping between them, creating gaps Jameson refused to let widen. Not tonight. Tonight, she would close that space.
She set her book aside, fingers brushing Candace’s cheek with a reverence that felt both instinctive and urgent. “You,” Jameson whispered.
Candace tilted her head, curious, softened by the warmth in Jameson’s eyes.
Jameson’s lips found hers, tender at first, lingering as if memorizing the shape of her mouth all over again—a kiss that made her heart flutter with the same wildness it had the first time. Their fingers intertwined, neither willing to break contact. The ivory silk of Candace's blouse whispered beneath Jameson's touch as she traced the curve of Candace’s breast with a fingertip. Candace's breath caught as Jameson's mouth traveled the delicate hollow of her throat. The blouse slipped away like water. Candace's fingers tangled in Jameson's curls, anchoringherself as she was lowered to the cool sheets, her body arching instinctively toward the warmth above her. Jameson paused, her eyes drinking in every detail of the woman beneath her.
"You have no idea how beautiful you are," Jameson whispered.
Candace smiled as she brushed her thumb across Jameson's lower lip. "That is just how you see me."
"No," Jameson murmured against her skin. Her fingertips traced a delicate lace edge where fabric met flesh, feeling Candace's heartbeat quicken beneath her touch. Their lips met again, more urgently.
Candace's hands mapped the familiar terrain of Jameson's back, feeling muscle shift beneath her palms. Each touch between them was both a revelation and a homecoming. In Jameson's arms, she found herself both exposed and completely protected. The clasp of her bra released, and Jameson's mouth found her breast with reverent hunger. Candace's lungs seemed to forget their purpose as pleasure spiraled through her body. She surrendered to the current between them, knowing Jameson would hold her as she drowned in sensation.
Jameson's world narrowed to the soft curves beneath her fingertips. The subtle vanilla scent of Candace's skin tantalized her senses. Each breath between them became sacred, and every touch felt like a promise. Candace's fingers tangled in Jameson's curls, tugging with gentle insistence, and Jameson found herself falling deeper into their shared rhythm. She traced her tongue in a deliberate circle around Candace's nipple before drawing it between her lips, savoring the quiet whimper that escaped Candace's throat. Jameson took her time, letting her lips hover just above Candace's heated skin, teasing her with breath before her mouth made contact again.
Candace gasped as Jameson's mouth began its slow descent across her abdomen, each kiss leaving a trail of goosebumps inits wake. The contrast between the heat building inside her and the cool whisper of Jameson's lips against her skin made her tremble. When Jameson eased her pants down over her hips, Candace lifted to help, her body already anticipating what was to come. Jameson's hands glided up to caress her breasts as her mouth continued lower. Jameson's tongue finally reached the center of Candace's desire, and she completely surrendered, her fingers gripping Jameson's hair as pleasure blossomed within her.
Jameson's body ignited with desire, the carefully restrained embers now erupting into flames. Her tongue traced delicate patterns against Candace's softness. Candace's body arched beneath her like a tide responding to the moon's pull. Jameson's fingers danced over Candace’s nipple, pulling gently as her mouth continued its reverent worship below.
Candace suddenly pushed away.
“Candace?”
“I need to feel you," Candace whispered. Before Jameson could fully comprehend, Candace's trembling fingers were lifting the shirt from her body. “All of it,” Candace demanded. “Off.”
A playful sparkle lit Jameson’s eyes as she obeyed Candace’s order, taking her time to shimmy out of her slacks.
The moment the last barrier between them disappeared, Candace's lips claimed Jameson's breast, her tongue circling the sensitive peak with exquisite precision.
