“Wait, what?”

“Do you want to get married in the Rose Garden?”

I jerked back to stare open-mouthed at him. “What?”

“Well, from what I read in The White House: A History—one of the many books my mother forced on me—June is a peak month for roses, so that would probably be the best time for a wedding.” He cocked his brows at me. “Do you think you could plan one in six months?”

Desperately, I tried processing what Barrett was saying. “I guess I could…” I tilted my head. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I think we should get married.”

Oh. My. God. As a bundle of emotions came crashing down on me, I fought to keep myself from falling to a heap on the floor. Thankfully, Barrett had his arms around me, but that didn’t last for long.

He dropped to one knee in front of me. “This is the moment when I would normally present you with a ring, but you already have one.”

I glanced down at my hand. After our breakup, I hadn’t taken the ring off because it would have raised suspicion. Then when we made up on election night, I still kept it on.

“I thought about buying you a different ring because this one might be tainted by our fake engagement, but when it came down to it, there wasn’t another ring in the whole world I wanted you to have. This ring symbolizes the day we first became a couple, even if it wasn’t for real. From that day on, my love and admiration for you began to grow. Someone who never saw himself capable of loving just one woman found the peace and contentment of monogamy. I discovered that a part of me was missing, and you were the only thing that could make me whole again. I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else but you.”

My heartbeat broke into such a wild gallop, I feared it would explode right out of my chest. The range of emotions rocketing through me was seriously overwhelming. The moment I’d dreamed about was actually coming true—Barrett was down on one knee, proposing to me.

“Addison, will you marry me?”

I wasn’t sure why, but at that moment, all I could whisper was, “For real?”

Barrett gave me a genuine smile full of love as he nodded his head. “For real.”

“Yes, yes, YES!” I cried. I barely gave Barrett time to stand up before I leapt into his arms. After he twirled me around, he brought his lips to mine, and I poured everything I had within me into that kiss. If I had died in that moment, I would have died a very happy woman.

Even though I was freezing to death out there, I wished we could have spent the rest of the night wrapped up in each other’s arms. All too soon, it was time for us to leave to make another appearance. Over the next five hours, we hit the rest of the official balls and then dropped by two private parties. As if the day hadn’t already been magical enough, Barrett’s proposal made me feel like I was floating on air.

By the time we got back to the White House, it was after four AM. After taking the elevator to the executive quarters, we walked hand in hand down the Center Hall to our bedrooms. When we got to the East Sitting Hall, Barrett tugged me against him. Since there was a Secret Service agent station not far from us, Barrett dipped his head to whisper in my ear, “Wanna get busy with me in Honest Abe’s bed?”

I threw my head back with a laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious.” He rolled his hips against mine, and I felt that his cock was very serious as well. “I’ve got a proclamation to emancipate you from your panties.”

“You did not just degrade the Emancipation Proclamation like that,” I huffed indignantly.

Barrett chuckled. “I knew it would get a rise out of you, and I get so turned on by seeing you riled.” He winked at me. “Besides, I’m sure Abe would forgive me—bro code and all.”

Pushing him away, I wagged a finger at him. “I’m pretty sure Abe’s high moral standards wouldn’t stand for us sharing a room when we’re unmarried, naughty boy.”

“Do you know how many unmarried people have gotten busy under this roof?”

“Too many to count, I’m sure.”

Nuzzling my neck, Barrett’s breath singed my skin. “We’re engaged now—that has to count for something.”

“I know but—” With a growl, Barrett bent over, swept me off my feet, and threw me over his left shoulder. “Put me down, you caveman!”

“I’ll put you down all right—down in my bed where you belong.” He then smacked my ass for good measure and the sound echoed through the vacant hallway.

I let out a shriek of protest as he started marching me toward the Lincoln Bedroom. When I dared to throw a glance over my shoulder, I saw the Secret Service agent’s lips twitching like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

Barrett threw open the door and then kicked it closed with his foot. My anger was momentarily forgotten as the significance of where I was washed over me—it was the bedroom of one of our greatest presidents. Sure, Lincoln had never actually slept in here, but it had been his office. This was his furniture.

Barrett was true to his word about not putting me down unless it was in his bed. After my body flopped unceremoniously down onto the mattress, I craned my neck to take in every aspect of the room—the regal gold curtains, the gold and brown patterned wallpaper, the deep mahogany furniture.

“By the expression on your face, I’m starting to think you’re getting a hard-on for Abe,” Barrett said as he made quick work of shedding his tux jacket.