I escort Shae back to campaign headquarters and check to see if I have any messages or instructions. I’m also checking to see if Elliot might happen to be there and discover he’s still on the Hill. As I prepare to leave, I run into Chris.
He winks. “Have fun today.”
That pulls me up short. I stop and turn. “Huh?”
He grins. “With Jordan. Have fun. You need a distraction.”
My brain’s being pulled twenty different directions right now because of the transition, so a distraction is literally the last thing I need. “I don’t think that word means what you think it means, boss.”
“You’ll see. By the way, don’t be in a hurry to get back here. Take him out to a long lunch on the campaign’s tab. Someplace nice. We’re not going to be free until probably six, at the earliest.”
I literally have to stop, take a breath, and force my brain to downshift to process this conversation as I focus on him. “What are you saying?”
Chris shrugs and reaches up to loosen his tie. “I’m not saying anything.” He smacks me on the shoulder and heads back toward his office.
Jesus, I cannot even with him today.
I catch a cab to the White House and quickly make my way through security. Thankfully, most of the guys know me, and know I’m on the transition team, so I quickly skate past several others who’ve been waiting in line when I’m waved through and given a pass.
It’s been a while since I’ve been here, and it feels…damned good walking through those doors once more.
Easy to remember what it felt like reporting here for work every day.
It was a feeling I thought I’d never again get to experience but there it is, all fresh and new.
Never gets old, no matter how many times I walk through those doors. In fact, I pause for a moment just outside and take a deep breath before the Marine standing guard opens the door for me and I enter.
After finding out where Chuck and Jordan are, I pause to chat with a couple of agents on my way to the stairs, guys I haven’t seen in years, in some cases. I’ve missed all of the tour, so I might as well play catch-up in other ways.
Except as I head up the stairs, I spot Chuck.
I also get a look at the adorable hottie with him, who looks like a terrified lamb in a lion’s pit. Wide-eyed behind his glasses, his hazel-green eyes are so light that they appear nearly grey. Maybe five-seven, slender, his business-short dark blond hair is neatly styled, and his khakis are pressed. His heavy coat, however, looks like it’s rarely been worn. Or maybe he had to purchase it specially for this trip to DC. He’s clutching a notebook to his chest like a protective shield.
Oh, baby boy.
He’s not quite a twink but damned close. There’s an old-soul air to him, however, that ages him a little. While his face is young, my god, his eyes.
Those sweetly gorgeous eyes.
If he ever wears contacts, I’ll spank his ass.
Yes, I realize that’s…creepy to be thinking like that and I don’t even know for sure he’s the guy.
I opt for nonchalance. “Hi, Chuck.” I spot the agent shadowing Chuck and the gorgeous guy I hope to hell is Jordan Walsh and realize I know him, too. “Oh, hey, Dale. Sorry I’m late but Senator Samuels’ meeting ran long.”
Chuck nods to me. “Hey, Leo. We just finished here. We’re all done.”
I deliberately stop two steps below them, putting me eye-to-eye with Jordan. I offer my hand. “Jordan Walsh, I presume? Leo Cruz.”
He nudges his glasses up his nose. “Y-yes. Hi. Nice to meet you, sir.” He shakes with me and his hand feels soft and cool in mine.
I can’t help but think what it’d feel like wrapped around my cock.
Goddammit, Chris.
Yep, now I totally get what he meant.
Worse?
I recognize this feeling, because I’ve only felt it once before in my life.
Please be straight, kid. Pleeeease be straight. “Nice to finally meet you, too, Jordan. Mr. Markos and Mr. Bruunt spoke very highly of you. Sorry I was delayed.”
“Th-that’s okay.”
I release his hand after one brief, final squeeze and wonder if we have time for me to take him back to my apartment and fuck him into the mattress.
Stop it, Leo. Bad Leo. Baaaaad man. “Listen, have you had lunch yet?” I fall into step beside him as we head downstairs.
He shakes his head and looks adorably terrified. I don’t know if it’s because of me or the White House.
It’s probably narcissistic to think it might be because of me. Anyone who’s never been to the White House before usually has some variety of this reaction on their first visit. Considering Chuck just gave him a behind-the-scenes tour, that’s most likely the reason.
But a bitch can dream, right?
Chris, you motherfucker. He pegged my type right. Vulnerable and sweet, glasses, looking neat and put-together. If this cutie is smart as well as talented, I’m a goner.
“How about you let me buy you lunch, and we can talk for a while? I used to work The Shift and know this building inside and out. I’m sure I can answer many questions for you.”
“The what?”
“Protective detail.”
“Wow, okay. That’d be awesome, thanks.”
I smile. “Great.” There’s something deep inside me resisting this, trying to shove the memory of Elliot’s face at me and reminding me I love the guy and want to spend the rest of my life with him.
Then, there’s the sadist. He’s already sussed out this kid isn’t wearing a ring and is trying to decide if Jordan’s gay or not.
The sadist is also reminding me how many times Elliot’s told me to date other people.
Once we’re outside, I decide to play hotshot and call a friend of mine over at Le Diplomate to see if I can snag us a table.
I can.
Oh, did I mention I do it in French?
The sadist is purring as I watch Jordan’s eyes widen again.
This is going to be sooo much fun.
Over the next few minutes as Jordan and I talk, I become more certain Jordan’s gay, although I haven’t outright asked him yet. He hasn’t mentioned anyone I’d consider a significant other, but he has talked about his grandmother several times so far, and I’ve just met him.
Once we arrive at the restaurant and are shown to our table, I order for us—in French, évidemment—and I go there, because this kid’s fucking eyes are killing me, man.
I lean close. “You’re in for the experience of a lifetime over these next few months. Hope you’re ready for it.”
“I don’t really have a choice but to be ready.” It looks like his hand’s trembling as he takes a sip of water.
“Good attitude to have. And we can get you tickets to the balls for your girlfriend, too.”
He shakes his head. “No girlfriend. I’m single.”
I somehow manage to suppress the urge to give a fist pump. “Ah.”
“And gay.”
Feels like my cheeks might cramp because I’m not used to smiling this much. I hope my expression doesn’t scare him. “Good.”
His gaze meets mine and holds for a moment. I’m absolutely certain he’s into me.
I can’t remember when I last spent so much time perpetually hard, either. Not like I can do a damn thing about it right now. Although coaxing him into the restaurant’s bathroom and bending him over the sink is a tempting idea.
No, Leo. Bad Dom.
Throughout lunch, Jordan adorably gets lost staring at the restaurant’s architecture and taking pictures of various elements, including the tile floor.
While he’s distracted doing that, I take a few pictures of him and make it look like I’m checking messages on my phone.
I could fucking kill Chris and Kev.
Or kiss them, maybe. Either one.
I get it. Chris gets massive credit for not pulling me aside long before now and lecturing me about torturing myself with this nebulous thing Ellio
t and I have.
Or don’t have, I suppose, depending on how you want to look at it.
Part of me wonders if Chris skewed his decision to hire Jordan for the position not because he and Shae wanted to give a Florida student the gig but because Kev reported back how adorable Jordan was, and Chris wanted to gig me into motion.
I wouldn’t put it past him. Fucker’s sneaky.
Here’s the problem—Jordan’s staff. I mean, campaign staff, not federal staff, so we’re talking about different ethics rules, I suppose.
He also won’t be here for long. Just until January, early February, at the latest.
He’s fucking adorable, yes, but I’ve already got one long-distance relationship going on and the dude lives in the same fucking city as me.
I can’t deal with another one.
Can I?
* * * *
After lunch we still have plenty of time, so I take Jordan on a cab tour of the city’s main sites. Gives me a great excuse to watch him.
Adorable.
Yeah, I know that word was previously reserved for use when referring to Elliot, but…
Damn.
The longer I spend with Jordan, the more I’m quickly falling hard for him.
Which is stupid and dangerous and reckless.
Yup. All of that. I know it, too.
Obsessive. Don’t forget obsessive.
And creepy, if I’m being totally honest, here.
Throughout all of this, however, I really haven’t talked much about myself personally. Haven’t admitted I’m gay, haven’t told him I’m available. I’ve stayed away from that third-rail topic, for now.
There’s time for that once I’ve sussed him out better.
Finally, we head to campaign headquarters to catch up with everyone. It’ll be a working dinner, with catering from Kev’s favorite Chinese restaurant. Elliot’s not there yet when we arrive, and Jordan sits down with Shae and Chris to go over his notes.
I struggle not to laugh when Chris catches my eye at one point and drops me a wink. I now understand what he meant earlier—and he was right.
Damn, was he right.
Elliot finally arrives and I can’t help but notice his scowl upon seeing Jordan before he immediately schools his expression, followed by his usual warm smile when I introduce Jordan to him.
You know…
I could be a real fucking dick.
No, seriously, I could.
It’d be too damned easy to use Jordan, to play him against Elliot and try to pry my guy’s ass out of his head with psychological shock and awe methods.
Except that’d be the bad kind of sadism.
It’d be using Jordan without him even knowing what I was really up to, and that’s just douchey.
Here’s the real problem, though—I want to talk to Jordan about all of this, and maybe do something very, very bad with him.
Maybe a whole lot of bad somethings.
Not like Elliot hasn’t practically tried to shove me head-first into the dating pool, right?
My first opening comes once we’ve sat down to eat. “You know, Leo,” Shae says. “If you’d like to go home, there’s no real reason for you to hang around tonight. We’ll be busy with this for a while.”
I note the tense set of Elliot’s shoulders, where he’s sitting across the conference table from me. Normally, if he’s here, I’m here, even if I’m not needed.
“Actually, I thought I’d hang around for a while. Jordan’s hotel is on the way to my place. I figured I’d make sure he gets back there safely. I did tell him he could ask me questions about White House operations. It’ll give us time to talk some more.”
Jordan’s face lights up while Elliot tries to hide another scowl.
“Unless, of course,” I add, “Mr. Woodley needs my assistance tonight.” I’m looking right at him when I say that.
Part of me is praying Elliot says yes, he does need me. A very large part.
I hate that part of me is hoping he doesn’t, so I can spend more time with Jordan, because I’m fucking lonely.
It shouldn’t be like this between us. Not after all the years we have together.
It shouldn’t be like this.
Elliot swallows hard but doesn’t meet my gaze. Finally, looking a wee bit ill as he does, he shakes his head a little. “No,” he manages. “I didn’t have anything on my schedule.”
I offer Jordan a wide smile even as I shove back my anger. “Then I guess you can have me all to yourself tonight.”
He grins. “Yay!”
I nearly giggle at Jordan’s enthusiasm. Even if nothing else happens besides me having a nice chat with him tonight and we share a cab, it’ll have been worth it.
Oooh, Elliot’s really looking sick to his stomach now.
Yeah, my territorial pet’s not so magnanimous when there’s something personal on the line. Sure, it makes me a dick but maybe it’ll finally produce some results.
That’s how I end up hanging around for another hour while Jordan talks with Shae, Chris, and Elliot. Obviously, even though Jordan’s signed an NDA, we’re not telling him about the more intimate relationships between any of us, and the triad is playing it cool.
Jordan’s amazing, sweet, and funny in a non-obnoxious kind of way. Even Elliot’s secret death glare seems to mellow out somewhat the more he talks with Jordan.
Thankfully, young Jordan appears oblivious to my boyfriend’s jealousy. Although, I will admit I’m a bit of a dick and low-key flirt with the kid.
Because, let’s be honest, he’s a freaking kid. I’ve got sneakers older than Jordan. He’s young enough to be my kid. Even though he is gorgeous, and talented, and yeah, I can imagine him bouncing up and down on my dick.
As in my dick is seriously plotting how to make this happen. Not that I think Jordan would sleep with me, given all the circumstances. Besides, he’s campaign staff.
Which means some harmless flirting to maybe egg my recalcitrant boyfriend into de-assing his head is fine, right?
Right.
That’s what I’ll tell myself, anyway.
I give Elliot one last chance when Jordan’s almost ready to leave. I pull Elliot aside and drop my voice. “Are you sure you don’t need me to come over tonight? I can drop him off at his hotel and come back here and ride with you.”
He chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment before shaking his head. “No,” he softly says. “I’ll be heading home soon.”
Maybe I’ve overplayed my hand on this. Maybe he really means it when he’s trying to shove me into some other guy’s arms. “I don’t mind, Congressman Woodley.”
I don’t like the way his gaze drops to the floor and how he crosses his arms over his chest. “No, it’s all right, Leo,” he quietly says. “Enjoy the rest of your night. I’ll see you tomorrow, if you’re coming in.”
It’s tempting to drag him back to his office and lock us inside for a chat but, after seven years, how am I supposed to make him change his mind if he’s too locked down by fear?
“Yes, sir,” I say, partially gutted by the irony of using that word for him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I gather up Jordan and his things, and my laptop case, and after a final round of good-byes where I can see the anguish building in Elliot’s gaze, Secret Service gets us a cab and we head out.
Why should I feel guilty about this? Isn’t this exactly what he’s insisted should happen?
Not that it can happen with Jordan. Nope, not at all.
But I can use it to my advantage, can’t I? Give him a taste of the reality of his choices without crossing any lines?
“Congressman Woodley seems very nice,” Jordan notes.
That kills me, too, because I have to play referee between them. I can’t let Jordan know how Elliot really feels about him. I mean, I don’t know for sure how Elliot really feels about him, but I suspect it won’t be happy thoughts once he learns more.
“He is. I hope the two of you will get along well.”
“I have so many questions. I don’t even know what I don’t know.” He looks right at me. “If you wanted to come up to my room to talk, I’d like that.”
My throbbing cock wants to answer for me. I suck in a deep breath and hope I sound calm. “I’d like that very much, thank you.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jordan’s room is in a decent hotel. His room has a mini-fridge and a microwave, and a king-sized bed. It’s not a suite but it is on the large side, with an ample desk, table, and sitting area with a couch and chair. It also has two TVs, one for the bed and one for the sitting area.
He laughs as he lets us in, and it sounds so light and airy I have to reel in my heart. “Sorry it’s a disaster.” He left a lamp on, but he flips on more lights.
If this is his idea of a disaster…
I don’t even know where to go with that metaphor. He’s got four large suitcases, but he’s already hung up clothes in his closet, and everything that’s been unpacked is neatly arranged. This room is literally the exact opposite of a disaster. It looks staged for a travel magazine shoot.
“It’s larger than my dorm room was,” he says. “This is an upgrade, for me. And like I said, it’s nice not having a roommate for a while.” He lays his things on the bed. “Except I don’t have anything to offer you in the way of beverages, sorry.”
“That’s fine.” I set down my laptop case and take off my coat, because I want to be here for a while.
He takes off his coat, kicks off his shoes, and sits on the bed with his computer and notebook. The way he sits cross-legged is just…
Did I mention he’s adorable?
I know, I know. Bad, baaaad Dom.
Catching sight of the shiny new campaign photo ID badge he’s wearing, he takes it off and smiles as he studies it. I didn’t have the heart to tell him not to wear it out of the office, unless we’re at an official event, or he’s on campaign business. He looks too damned happy.
I hope DC doesn’t grind that sweet enthusiasm out of him during his brief tenure here.
Indiscretion (Inequitable Trilogy Book 1) Page 24