Praise Me: President (Praise Me Daily)
Praise Me: President: Chapter 1

Holy smokes.

Okay, girl. Don’t freak out, but there he is.

The President of the United States.

If I hold this clipboard any firmer to my chest, I’m going to lose the ability to breathe and eventually pass out, right here on this royal blue carpet. I might do that, anyway. Pierce McAlister is the cause. Breathless swooning is the effect.

I thought I’d adequately prepared myself to see the war hero turned Commander in Chief in the flesh, but no, I wasn’t ready. Despite the grueling hours of work I’ve done to obtain a position in the White House, working alongside the president, I’ll never be ready to breathe the same air as him. At thirty-seven, Pierce is the youngest president in our country’s history. He was raised by ranchers in Wyoming, before serving overseas and earning the lauded title of general. He’s intelligent and rugged and doesn’t mince words.

Did I mention he’s the most gorgeous man on the planet?

Pierce strides past me while frowning down at the memo that has just been handed to him, his fresh pine scent curling beneath my nose, and everything south of my belly button screams violently, gnarling into knots. My heart knocks relentlessly in my chest—thank God I’m able to shield it with the clipboard.

When I have myself mostly under control, I peek up at the president through my lashes and I quite simply marvel at the sight of him. At six foot three, he towers over everyone in the Oval Office. His face is clean shaven, though he had a beard during his military days. I have pictures as evidence in a secret folder on my laptop.

There are thousands of pictures in that folder.

It’s actually embarrassing what a fangirl I am.

Who could blame me for saving so many photos when his jaw is so resolute? When his eyes are such a unique shade of amber? When that full-bodied black hair has its own personality, resting dutifully in spots and appearing finger tousled in others?

President Eye Candy leans back on his desk and finishes the memo, casually setting it behind him. He shrugs off his jacket as if the garment is confining him and gives his forest green tie a tug to loosen the knot. “Good morning, everyone. We have a lot to discuss, so let’s get right to it—” Pierce cuts himself off when his gaze lands on me, and I swear, my legs nearly buckle over the honor of having his full attention, the room tilting on both sides of me. He keeps his eyes above my neck, but some feminine intuition tells me he wants to look lower. But he doesn’t, because he’s principled.

And perfect.

“Who is she?” Pierce asks, his voice a touch more strained than before.

Wake up, Eloise. This is what I’ve been working for since joining model UN in middle school. A career in politics. Working for this enigmatic man. Sure, I had to work a lot harder when Pierce set his sights on the presidency, but I made it here, didn’t I?

I better not blow my chance to stay.

Today is not a typical day in the Oval Office. It’s a rarity for all the cabinet members to meet in one place like this at the same time, but the president was only sworn in a week ago and now that all the fanfare has died down, he wants to hit the ground running. I’m the only person he hasn’t met, because my position has only recently been added, my name selected by Pierce himself out of a dozen uber-strong candidates.

“I’m Eloise Rogers, Mr. President,” I say in my clearest voice, approaching him with my hand outstretched. “Your youth council secretary.”

His chin lifts a notch with recognition. “Right. You’re heading our newest council.” Without taking his eyes off me, he grips my hand and shakes. No nonsense. But I’m the only one in the room close enough to see the vein ticking rapidly in his neck, right up against that starched white collar. “Nice to meet officially meet you, Ms. Rogers.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you for the honor of this post.” I smile brightly and shift the clipboard I’ve been using to shield the wild reaction of my heart to Pierce McAlister, dropping the laminated wood to my side and in the process, drawing the president’s eyes downward, just for a split second, warmth washing over my breasts as he looks at them against his will. “The young people of this country have long deserved a voice in the White House and it’s no surprise you’ll be the one to give it to them. We’re going to do great things together.”

“I have no doubt,” he says, coughing to clear his throat. “Thank you, Ms. Rogers.”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

I return to my position in the semi-circle of cabinet members, ignoring the withering look from the Secretary of Agriculture. Oh well. Nothing will ever bother me again in this life. I’m convinced of it. I’ve just met Pierce McAlister. He touched me.

As the conversation continues around me, the president going through talking points with each cabinet member, my flesh is warm beneath my blue skirt and tucked, white button-down shirt. My pulse points have been triggered, now they’re tripping over themselves, my lips swollen from being chewed. Transfixed by the strength of Pierce’s throat while he speaks, I picture myself kneeling in front of him on the blue carpet, pulling my hair back in a ponytail and unfastening his belt buckle.

You worked so hard today, sir.

Let me give you a little treat.

I jolt free of my fantasy when I sense Pierce watching me with darkening eyes. There’s a clear warning there. Knock it off.

Oh God. Were my deviant thoughts so obvious?

I’m still reeling over the possibility that the president read my mind when he dismisses everyone in the room and I turn to leave with them, but my black, pointed flats draw to a pause when that deep voice carries across the office.

“Ms. Rogers, if I might have a word?”