Mr. President: You Are The Daddy Of My Triplets

Marissa saw the man of her dreams walking out of the kitchen and she, being an impatient fool, ran after him.

Tying her arms around his lean waist from behind, she pressed her cheek to his back, "This time was supposed to be ours, Mr. Sinclair," he went still under her touch, "Don’t go. Please."

He slowly turned and held her close to him. That gentle expression was back in his eyes. He pulled her closer and sighed, "Are you turning into me, Marissa?"

Marissa raised her head in confusion and giggled, "What does it mean?"

"It means that do you... also miss me? Every minute of the day? Like I miss you?" His questions caught her off guard. He also missed her? His green eyes were searching hers for some sign.

Any sign that he could hold on to.

She could feel her eyes glistening, but she had to hold it back.

"It will hardly take a while," he bent his head to kiss her lips softly and started sucking them, "This strawberry taste won’t let me go anywhere. Don’t worry. I’ll carry this taste with me even after I die."

He gave a quick peck to her nose tip and turned to get away from her. He didn’t even bother to look back at her pale face due to the careless statement he made about his death.

The woman was capable of keeping him glued to her ass and he wanted to get done with this meeting.

Once he was outside, he smiled to himself when his kids’ laughter reached his ears. What else could he want?