Chapter 5

Fitz dialed her cell phone number again, knowing full well he would only hear the recording of her voice. He ended the call when her voicemail picked up, she wouldn't return his call so there was no use leaving a message. Tucking the phone back into his coat, he grabbed the handle of his suitcase and walked towards the waiting bus.

"Good morning Sir," Cyrus tried to sound chipper.

"Hey Cy," it was clear that Fitz was lost in his thoughts. Cyrus could only assume they were thoughts of Olivia. He watched Fitz scan the bus for Olivia then, not finding her, slump into one of the empty seats at the back. He pushed his earbuds into his ears, a sure sign he didn't want to be disturbed, and leaned back against the headrest. He smiled ever so slightly when the music started and the playlist that Olivia had compiled for him began to play. It had been nearly 24 hours since she had abruptly left him, he hadn't heard from her and was beginning to worry.

"Where could she be?" he asked to no one in particular, drawing curious stares from several reporters and staffers nearby. Picking up his phone he dialed her apartment in New York then, when there was no answer, he called his mother. A wave of relief settled over him when she answered on the second ring.

"Hi Mom," he couldn't hide the desperation in his voice.

"Fitzy, what's the matter?" her voice was thick with alarm. "Are the kids okay?"

"I don't think I can do it."

"Do what?" she wondered, still concerned about her son and grandchildren.

"The election, being President," he explained in a loud whisper. "I don't think I can keep going. I don't think I can win."

"But you're crushing everyone in the Primaries, you're ahead in nearly every state."

"I think it's all wrong, the timing," Elizabeth had rarely heard him so uncertain, especially recently.

"Obviously it's your decision Sweetheart but plenty of people would be disappointed if you quit." She didn't want to push him and knew he was looking for support rather than advice, "What would Gerry say? Karen? Olivia?"

She heard his breath hitch at the mention of Olivia's name.

"Did you and Liv have a disagreement?"

"She's gone. I don't know where she is. I haven't heard from her. She got a call last night and she left."

Elizabeth was unsure what to say so she sat quietly, listening to Fitz alternate between deep sighs and shallow breaths. Finally she found the strength and the words she felt were right, "You love her. I don't know why she left but I believe she loves you too."

"Then why did she leave when I needed her most?"

"Sweetie, nothing good is ever easy. I've seen the way you and Olivia look at one another, the way you interact, the way she cares for your children. That's not an accident or a fluke. No woman embraces a man's children like that if it isn't for real."

"But how could she leave?" he spoke in a low tone so as not to let anyone nearby overhear. He sounded broken, not even able to muster a sliver of the emotion he felt the night before when she walked out the door.

"You said some big scary words about her on television the other day. You gave the whole world access to your feelings for Olivia and that's frightening. What if it doesn't work out? The world knows her face and if you lose, regardless of what you say or do, she will be the public face of your loss."

He closed his eyes, running a free hand through his hair, then took a deep breath.

"Just find her and talk, listen, and show her that you love her. Stand beside her."

"I've been standing beside her," he maintained, his ears and neck heated as his anger flared. "I've never given her reason to question."

"Just keep doing that and I promise she will come around. She's afraid and her family isn't taking it well. I'm certain she wouldn't be happy I told you but her father…" Her voice trailed off as if she were choosing her words carefully. "He wasn't pleased. He hasn't taken her calls and he threatened to liquidate her trust fund."

"Why didn't she tell me?" Now he knew he had to find her, the situation clearly more desperate than he imagined.

"Because she wanted you focused. She wanted you to win. You winning makes everything she has gone through mean something."

"Thanks Mom," his voice had softened, his eyes moist.

"Keep me updated," she returned, concern evident in her tone.

Fitz ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. His head felt heavy with the burden of what their relationship was doing to Olivia and her family. He had only met her parents once, the night they went to dinner, Olivia and her boss Governor Grant. Her mother had caught on to the truth of what was going on but she hadn't mentioned her father finding out. Then he thought of the press conference, going public with their relationship. His only concern had been her, his family, and the campaign. He never considered her family's reaction.

The air felt thick and the Florida heat more oppressive than 72 degrees would suggest as everyone filed off the bus. Fitz checked his phone before grasping the handle of his suitcase and pulling it behind him into the hotel lobby. He checked in with little more than simple pleasantries to the desk clerk and quickly made his way to his suite. The room was appointed with all of the latest amenities but all Fitz could think about was Olivia, where she was, what she was doing, and if she was alright. He dialed her number again as he made his way into the bathroom to deposit his toiletries. The call again went to voicemail and he resigned himself to the fact that she didn't want to be found.

The bedside phone rang and he dragged his thoughts from Olivia.

"Hello?" he tried not to let his frustration show.

"Are you up for some dinner?" Cyrus asked on the other end of the line.

"I'll have to pass," Fitz replied. "I just don't feel like being with a bunch of people tonight. I think I'll just order some room service and catch up on some work."

"Aw, come on," Cyrus debated. "Just you and I. I'll be at your door in ten minutes."

"Honestly Cy, I don't—" the line went dead before he could protest.

Fitz slouched down onto the bed, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Creases shown deep in his forehead, evidence of the stress he was under. He looked at his watch, noting the time before picking up the phone and dialing Lorelei's number.

"Well if it isn't the next President of the United States," his sister chuckled when she heard his voice.

"Funny Lor, can I talk to the kids?" his sister's voice relieved some of the tension in his shoulders and he breathed easily for the first time in hours when he heard his children's voices. They passed several minutes chatting about all of the fun the children were having before there was a knock at the door.

"I have to go Kar," he said. "You and your brother behave. Tell him I love him."

"Okay Daddy," Karen replied. "Tell Liv we miss her."

Fitz swallowed hard past the grapefruit sized lump in his throat. He missed her but he had to put on a stoic façade and concentrate on dinner with Cyrus. It might even serve as a welcome distraction.

"Love you Kar. Talk to you soon,"

He took his time getting to the door, finding his wallet, checking his phone, and draping his suit jacket over his arm. There was a second knock, this one louder and more firm. "I'll be right there, Cy," his voice was full of annoyance.

When he reached the door he pulled it open with a flourish, "You're so impatient Cyrus…" he stopped abruptly realizing that it was room service not Cyrus at his door. "What's this? You must have the wrong room," he said looking over the cart which held a bottle of champagne and numerous covered plates.

"Governor Grant?" the young room service attendant asked.

"Well that's me but I didn't order anything," Fitz looked puzzled. "Who sent this?"

"I don't know, Sir," the young man replied. "But the tab has been taken care of."

Fitz stepped aside and allowed the man to wheel the cart into the room. After fishing several rumpled bills from his pocket he handed them to the young man with a mumbled "thanks" and closed the door behind him. Returning to the cart he began to uncover the numerous plates, raspberries, strawberries, whipped cream, gourmet chocolate, marzipan, and truffles. He searched for the charge slip, a note, any clue as to who had sent the food. His enquiry was interrupted by another knock on the door, surely Cyrus.

"It's open," Fitz called, not looking up from the spread before him. He heard the door to the suite open and softly close. "Look at all of this food someone sent up," he gestured to the plates as he felt the man come around the corner into the suite's living area.

"Looks delicious," his heart leapt at the voice, a wave of relief bathing him in warmth. He turned, afraid any sudden movement would make her run.

He stood, staring, flabbergasted and momentarily mute. Her curls fell to her shoulders, her lips painted a red that reminded him of how they looked after hours of kissing, her fingers toying with the belt of the coat she wore. She cocked her head to the side, a flirty grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"It's a little warm out for a coat don't you think?" he tried to sound cool, to use all of the worry he'd felt when he couldn't find her.

"I thought the press would have a field day if they saw me walking around in this," she whispered, untying the belt and allowing the coat to fall open. Her breasts overflowed from the top of an ivory corset and a sliver of smooth skin peeked out above the low rise of a matching sheer thong.

"Umm…" he stuttered, his eyes following the contour of her sumptuous curves. She saw him lick his lips and she cocked her hip to the side suggestively. Blood pounded through his veins, his heart beating double time as he watched goose bumps rise over her exposed flesh. His mouth was like the desert and his palms itched with the urge to run his hands over her body.

Olivia felt his eyes move over her form, her skin burned as if he were physically touching her, goose bumps prickled, her nipples hardened beneath the stiff bodice. "Maybe I should go," her voice dripped with lust as she pulled the coat closed and began to tie the belt.

In three long steps he was in front of her, grasping her wrists, feeling her pulse race beneath his hands. "No," was all he managed but it was clearly a demand not a question.

She looked up into his face from beneath her long lashes, his dilated obsidian pupils nearly overtaking the blue gray giving his eyes a deeper blue hue. She wasn't entirely sure what she saw there, a wisp of desire mixed with what resembled irritation. Before she could consider his mood further his hands were tugging at the belt of her trench coat and moving closer to her.

"I was worried about you," his voice was rough, gravelly, his hands forcefully seizing her hips.

"I had to take care of something," she whispered seconds before his mouth found her neck, hands urgently pushing the coat down her arms and to the floor.

He momentarily pulled back, committing to memory the vision of Olivia in nothing but a lacy corset, thong, and heels. Just the sight of her, dewy flawless skin, the flush that colored her cheeks and cleavage, her moist plump lips, caused an unbearable ache deep in his belly. He needed to talk to her, to find out where she'd been, to be sure that she was alright, but his desire for her thrummed an undeniable cadence. His lips touched the edge of her jaw, teeth gently sinking into her soft neck, then suckling at the edge of her collarbone.

Olivia groped for the buttons on his shirt, needing his skin against hers. Several pops and the ping of buttons hitting the floor and wall brought a low growl rumbling from Fitz. She didn't remember a time when she'd wanted, needed him so badly and she urged his hands to the satin ties of her corset.

Fitz fingered the ribbon at the back of the lingerie, tugging in an attempt to release her sweet breasts to his hands and mouth. He pulled harder, only able to marginally loosen it. He pressed harder into their kiss, his frustration at the barrier between them mounting. "This looks expensive," he breathed against her neck, again yanking the ties.

"I don't know, twelve hundred," she didn't understand why he was thinking of the cost of her lingerie, more concerned with why she was still wearing it.

"Jesus Livvie," he pulled her towards the bed.

"I wanted to wear something special for you," she breathed, feeling his fingers tug at the ties again.

His mouth moved down her cleavage until he was laving small circles over each stiff nipple, her hands tangled in the curls at the back of his head. His mouth pressed harder against her, more demanding, more urgent. He needed more of her bare before him and his patience with the fasteners on her corset was growing thin. A deep rumble escaped him and he grasped the edges of the corset. "Fuck it, I'll buy you a new one." Then a loud rip, the sudden rush of cooler air and her breasts sprung free.

His aggression was too much for her, she submitted to his every touch, felt the rough calloused hands of the man she would love until her final breath. He palmed her breasts, relishing the scrape of her nipple in his hand, the heat from her flawless skin. He only paused to push his pants and boxer briefs down his legs before climbing over her and again joining their mouths. She tasted like the sweetest strawberry as he was certain to pay attention to every inch of the skin he'd just exposed. His tongue traveled over her ear, along her neck and down her cleavage where he tasted and teased. Then he moved on to her sides, sensing her stiffen then dissolve against the sheets.

"Fitz….." she arched up into him when she felt his breath where she needed it. His hands felt so big and warm gripping her hip and thigh. He wasn't going to be gentle, he was going to drag out the sweet agony of her torment with his mouth and hands. He breathed just inches from her wetness as she tried to squirm closer. But he was too strong, holding her in place, keeping her where he wanted, open to his impending assault. Another rush of a nearly panted breath over her clit and she whimpered, "Please."

His hands were so hard on her thighs, he could see she would have marks from his grip. Being unable to find her made him feel so helpless, out of control, but now he was in charge. He wanted to see her, watch her writhe with anticipation, drip with wanting for him, and hearing her pleas just made him harder. She wriggled beneath his hands, her breaths rapid and shallow, her skin pink with expectation, a whispered "please" tumbling from her parted crimson lips. He met her eyes, tightening his grip on her thighs so there was no chance of her escaping, and leaned into her, running his tongue through her wetness, along her slit to her pulsing clit.

Olivia arched beneath him, the simple contact of his tongue almost finishing her. He was trying to drive her insane, she was certain of it. "Fuck!" Her nails dug into his scalp.

"Sweet Livvie," he growled, suckling the skin of her inner thigh. She watched in awe, captivated by the rumble of his voice against her leg and the nip of his teeth. The throb at her center spread until her entire body quivered.

"Please," she whispered again, squirming anew beneath his hands.

"Please what Livvie?" he kissed around the curve of her hip, across her flat stomach, and along her sternum. She smelled like heaven, his safe haven and the siren that beckoned him to rocky shores. His mouth enveloped one dark nipple then the other, his tongue flicking just the tips before circling each more brusquely.

Her mouth opened, poised to scream his name and beg him to take her but the words clogged in her dry throat. She surrendered herself to his desires, to the sensations of his mouth and hands and the rigid length that dragged along her thigh and collided with her sensitive clit as he devoured her from top to bottom. She wanted to plead for him, to move his hands where she wanted them, push his mouth where she needed him, but she relented. He was deliberate in his assault on her body and her senses, her protests would just prolong the torture.

Fitz felt her relax beneath him, legs falling open, head sinking into the down pillows, hands loosening in his hair. He grinned against her skin, dragging his teeth lightly over each nipple before moving his focus to her mouth. He kissed her, lips crashing, tongues meshing, hard and passionate.

Her hands gripped his biceps, his neck, and his back. Just as his kiss softened and she considered she might get a reprieve, he filled her. Hard, abrupt, commanding. Her legs gripped him, nails digging into his flesh, hedonism like she'd never experienced.

He pumped into her, adjusting his angle until he knew he was hitting the right spot. It was somehow both frantic and loving, how hard and fast he was taking her but his attention to what he knew she liked the most. He pressed his mouth firmly to hers again and she returned his kiss with matching urgency. His hand gripped her hip, her arm, then her neck and jaw. Their moans mingled between them, disappearing in the seal of their mouths. The bed hit the wall, groaning and squeaking beneath them as it shifted in time with their movements. She nibbled his lip bringing a welcome sting, her nails on his ass adding to the sharp sensation. He pressed her further into the mattress, tilting her hips to meet his, driving his cock hard between her walls.

Olivia grasped his curls, every ridge of muscle in his arms, shoulders, and back, then his firm ass, spurring him on. She had passed the point of no return, her orgasm rising against the ramparts of her control. He kissed her again and she could sense he was close as well. As he leaned fully into her the ring of the phone broke his rhythm. He turned momentarily, his lips leaving hers, left hand gripping her jaw tighter to maintain her position. She considered that he might actually answer the phone but grinned when he abruptly turned back to her and pressed his mouth to hers again. The phone rang a second then a third time but he just kissed her harder. Without breaking their tempo she reached over to the bedside table, lifted the receiver then replaced it again. He rumbled his approval and hooked his arm behind her knee, opening her further to his thrusts.

The flood of her orgasm was soon too powerful for her to fight and she tensed around him, tearing her mouth from his, searching for air to fill her lungs as her walls echoed her pleasure. He didn't slow, continuing the relentless pace until he felt her tremors wane then loosened his grip on her jaw. He rolled to his back so he could watch her above him. She set their pace, slow at first, agonizing considering how close to the edge he dangled, but he didn't want it to end. Her naked body above him, watching himself disappear into her as her breasts taunted him, it was the makings of one spectacular dream.

She arched her back, left hand resting on his taut abs, right running through her hair, down her neck, between her breasts, and to her tender nub. He thrust up into her, the sight of her touching herself for him tearing the last tatters of his restraint. His thumb joined her fingers and in seconds they were coming together in a mass of moaned expletives.

Olivia rolled to her side, every nerve still sensitive to the slightest touch. Her fingers traced his rigid bicep while his fingers played in her hair. His palm rested against her cheek and pent up emotions moistened his eyes.

"Hi," he murmured, voice cracking.

"Hi," she grinned in return, leaning in to touch her lips lightly to his. When she pulled back his eyes were closed and the deep lines of stress and worry had taken purchase on his brow.

They lay in their post-coital state, lightly touching, breathing in one another until Fitz couldn't resist asking, "Where did you go?"

The spell was broken, her gaze fell to where her hand rested on his bicep and she took a deep breath, "I had to take care of something," she whispered, her own voice rich with emotion.

"So you said," he sounded stronger now. "But where were you? Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"It's nothing. Nothing you need to worry about. Family stuff."

"Olivia," he forced her to meet his eyes, "If you're worried about it I'm worried about it. We're a team. You need to let me in."

She shook her head, refusing to divulge where she'd been, "It's nothing." She rose from the bed, pulling the sheet with her as she padded to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She felt the water rain down on her hand, waiting for it to get warm enough for her to climb under the stream. When the door opened she didn't look in his direction, continuing to concentrate on the water.

Fitz stopped several feet from her, completely naked, vulnerable, "Is there someone else?"

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. "What?" she choked.

"I mean, I get it. This isn't what you signed up for. We let things get out of hand but you never wanted to be in the public eye. You didn't ask to be a headline."

"No."

"Things didn't work out the way we thought they would and for that I apologize but I think you at least owe it to me, to us Liv, to tell me."

She collapsed hard onto the edge of the tub, face falling into her hands. He wasn't sure if she was crying and the jumble of emotions he felt wouldn't let him get closer to her.

"Are you seeing someone else?" he asked again.

"No," it was barely audible against her palms.

"Then tell me what's going on. Don't lie to me. Don't hide things from me," he urged.

"I'm taking care of it," her voice was shaky.

"God damn it Livvie!" he yelled, startling her and drawing her eyes to him. "What the hell is going on? I love you. I want to marry you and have babies with you. I want you to be my First Lady but you can't hide things from me."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"Then what the hell is going on?" he yelled again.

"I'm pregnant."