Indiscretion (Inequitable Trilogy Book 1)
Page 26
I’m running on about five hours sleep the next morning. I left Elliot peacefully and deeply asleep in his bed just a few hours ago.
I won’t lie, it was tempting to shut off my alarm and go back to sleep and stay there.
Unfortunately, the massive freak-out he would’ve had when he awakened to find me still there would have completely undone all the good our session did for him. He lives in a one-bedroom apartment, so he can’t claim I slept in the guest room.
I’ve already texted Elliot good morning and received not only a reply but a winking smiley face and a thank you.
I knock on Jordan’s door at 7:55. He answers barefoot, and with his short hair damp from his shower. He’s once again wearing khakis, and a light blue Oxford button-up, the collar open. I think he’s going to be adding a tie and I manage—barely—not to offer to tie it for him.
Yup, here comes that word again.
Adorable.
“Sorry. I’ll be ready in a minute.” He sounds a little breathless.
“Everything all right?”
Gorgeous pink rises in his cheeks. “Um, yeah! F-fine.” He smiles. “Just took longer in the shower than I planned.”
He turns away from me, which is good, because I’m grinning. I catch sight of myself in the mirror and tone it back a notch from Joker-poisons-Gotham levels to only moderately disturbing.
There’s context there I’m sure Jordan thinks he’s hidden, and I’ll let him keep thinking that.
If he didn’t just stroke one out in the shower, then I have no business in the job I’m currently in.
Makes me wonder who he was thinking about while he did it.
Can’t exactly talk about that with him right now, though. I mean, yeah, I totally could manipulate him to the point we could talk about it, but that’s not ethical.
Right?
The fact that I’m asking myself means I’m reasonably certain it’s probably not.
I pretend to check my e-mail on my phone while he rushes around to finish getting ready. Yes, I’m dangerously sliding toward the precipice when it comes to Jordan, but I’m a trained professional, okay?
Literally, I am. In more than one meaning, in this case.
I’ve got this.
He starts to pull his ID badge on, and that’s when I speak up. “You might want to leave that in your pocket, for now. You don’t want everyone knowing you work for the campaign.”
“I don’t?”
“Not when you’re out and about.” I explain why and show him mine’s tucked in the inner pocket of my blazer. as we head down the hall to the elevator.
He’s not wearing a blazer under his coat. “Am I dressed all right? I didn’t even think to ask.”
“If you’re in the office, jeans and a button-down is fine. But if you’ll need to be out and about, you’re okay like this.” He did add a tie, and the knot’s perfect.
Not sure why that makes my soul twinge a little.
“Should I buy a couple of blazers?”
“You’ll want to rent a tux for the inaugural balls. Do you have a plain suit for the swearing in ceremony? I’ll make sure you’re seated with the rest of us.”
He grimly smiles. “My funeral suit. Mimi made sure I had one.” His expression turns sad. “Didn’t realize I’d be wearing it to her funeral so soon.”
I wince. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” He forces a smile that breaks my heart. “I really miss her.”
Yesterday, while he mentioned her several times, I didn’t dive deep into a conversation about her.
Except I want to get to know him better. I decide to hold that conversation until we sit down. There’s a good breakfast restaurant only a block away, so we head off on foot. After we’re seated and have placed our orders, I offer him a smile. “Sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you.” That smile of his, man. Bashful and…
Adorable.
“I’ll get you set up with your own desk today. I’ll probably put you in my office.”
His eyes widen. “Oh! I’d be happy with a folding table in a corner. I don’t want to put you out any.”
“You won’t be, long as you don’t mind sharing with me. We’ll be working together a lot, so it’ll make my job a little easier, rather than having to hunt you down when I’m there. Plus, I’ll be on the move a lot with Senator Samuels. It’ll almost be like having your own office, sometimes.” The waitress brings our coffee and waters. “And I certainly won’t mind the company when I’m there.”
That earns me another of those bashful smiles. “I’ll try not to be a pest.”
Oh, baby boy.
That feels so fucking right for him. Obviously, I don’t dare utter it.
“Listen to me—you’re not a pest.” I opt to divert the conversation. “Tell me about your grandmother.”
He wraps those long, graceful fingers around his coffee mug. “Mimi was my world. I owe everything to her.” He meets my gaze and I spot the unshed tears in his eyes. That it’s still fresh and raw to him tugs at me again. “She died last year. Stroke. She laid down for a nap and never woke up.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Another pained, forced smile that makes me struggle not to get up and hug him. “Of all the ways to die, there are far worse. Last thing we said to each other was I love you. No pain, no fear, no struggle.” He sips his coffee. “I should be so lucky.”
“I get the feeling you’re not close to your parents.”
Bitter rage flashes through his expression before he carefully schools it again.
Interesting.
“No. I’ve lived with Mimi since I was twelve. I flew to Florida to spend summer vacation with her and never went home. I came out to my parents just before I got on the airplane. They didn’t want a gay son, and I didn’t want to live in New York any longer.”
“Yikes. Sorry.”
He shrugs and takes another sip of coffee. I’m trying not to stare at his fingers but they’re long and gorgeous. “Mimi was the first person I came out to. She loved me unconditionally.” Another wistful smile. “She paid my college tuition, and I have a small nest egg that will pay for my graduate degree, as long as I’m careful. I owe everything to her.” His smile fades. “I just wish she was here to see this. She’d be so proud of me.” He slowly nods. “If she was still alive, you’d better believe she’d be my date to the balls, because she always had my back.”
“Any siblings?”
“Only child, thankfully. I have no excuse to talk to my parents. Mimi told me once that she didn’t want my parents even knowing she died, unless they’d reconciled with me before that point. So unless someone else told them, they probably don’t even know she died.”
Wow. That’s…cold, but I also respect him for that. For standing his ground. That takes a strength few have later in life, much less when they’re as young as Jordan.
“You?” he asks. “Where are you from?”
“California.” We slide into a lighter conversational while awaiting our food.
Then he asks it. “What does your significant other think about your current job?”
From the way his brows are delicately arched behind his glasses, it makes my heart throb and I want to scoop him into my arms again. He’s steadily meeting my gaze, though. Deliberately.
He knows what he’s asking me.
Because he deliberately used the phrase “significant other.”
I meet his gaze long enough pink rises in his cheeks, making my sadist purr with pleasure and sending a jolt of energy to my cock. Because I don’t want to lie to him.
I also don’t want to spill all my secrets to him, NDA or not.
“It’s complicated,” I finally say, mirroring his expression. “I’m not actively dating right now.”
The world’s fading away around us, which is unusual for me. Situational awareness, yo. Kind of instinct, at this point in my life.
The corner of his mouth quirks up a little. “Not dating any guys ri
ght now because of work, or something else?”
Damn. He’s good. I hadn’t admitted I’m gay yet.
What the hell, why not push the envelope? I want to see how deep he’ll fish. “Mostly because of work.” That’s not a lie at all, actually.
Elliot is part of my job, in some ways.
And his job is the biggest reason we can’t be open.
I mean, it’s the main excuse he uses about why we can’t be open.
He cocks his head a little to the right. It exposes the side of his neck, the tendons and muscles, and I want to nibble from his collar to his ear. “Sounds like there’s a story.”
I pick up my coffee mug and sip. “There is. I can date right now. But work’s pretty busy.”
“But it’s complicated.”
I slowly nod. “It is.”
He tips his head to the other side and studies me. I see a flicker of something watchful and cunning float to the surface before it’s gone nearly as fast. Or maybe I imagined it.
Maybe I wanted to see it because it interests the sadist.
“But you’re not cheating. If you were dating?”
“I don’t cheat. I never betray a trust.” This is kind of fun.
His head cocks to the right again. “You can tell me to mind my own business.”
I smile. “I would, if you’d treaded anywhere yet that I needed to.”
The waitress arrives with our orders, and I’m a little disappointed because I have a feeling that will end Jordan’s line of questioning.
But he surprises me once we’re alone again. “I have a hard time trusting,” he admits. “Mimi helped me with that some, but I grew up with parents I knew would likely reject me and having to keep my secret from everyone. Mimi’s friends all welcomed me in as an adopted grandson. She taught me to have self-respect and be choosy.”
“Those are good things to learn young in life.”
“Yeah.” He slowly chews a bite of scrambled eggs as he studies me again. “Any personal advice for me?”
I’m not used to feeling off-balance like this with someone. Not sure if I like that feeling or not. “In general, or about me in particular?” I’m being slightly smart-assed, but his gaze doesn’t waver from mine.
“Either. Or both.”
I glance around just to make sure no one’s paying any attention to us and drop my voice. “I have a lot of patience. But if you break my trust, you never get it back. I value honesty and loyalty and give it in return.”
Jesus. Those gorgeous eyes of his. His blond eyelashes dust his cheeks with every blink, and I wonder what they’d feel like brushing against my balls.
“Good to know,” he says, smiling, and my cock throbs in response.
Damn.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
By the time we reach the office, I’m feeling emotionally whiplashed. I’m honestly not sure if Jordan’s into me or not. I think he is, and my sadist has decided he wants Jordan.
When it comes to himself personally, it would seem the kid is confident as fuck, no doubt about it.
Where his weakness lies is not having as much confidence in his professional abilities and experience level, and I get it. This would be an intimidating situation for anyone to get dropped into, regardless of their work experience.
After we leave our things in my office, I introduce Jordan around to everyone in the office today and then take him to the IT manager, where I shuffle him off onto her for a little while. That means I can stop by Elliot’s office.
He’s alone, and when I slip inside and lock the door behind me, he actually smiles when he removes his glasses and starts to slide out of his chair and to the floor.
That’s a damn sweet smile I haven’t seen in for-fucking-ever, it feels like.
Also makes me feel guilty as hell for the great time I had with Jordan this morning. And last night.
I sit in his chair and he snuggles between my thighs so I can hold him, massaging his scalp. “How’s my pet?”
“Good, Sir. Thank you for last night.”
“Anytime, baby. Just ask. That’s all you ever have to do.”
Same old song. Next verse, same as the first.
He buries his face against me with his arms wrapped around my waist and just breathes for a moment. I feel the tension draining from him but he’s not nearly as bad right now as he has been in recent days.
Fortunately, he doesn’t bring up any deep topics of conversation. He sits there and soaks in these precious few minutes before I glance at the time and know I need to get him vertical again because his transition team staff have a meeting with him.
I rub my chin in his hair. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, Sir.” He looks into my eyes. “Thank you.”
I run my fingers through his hair. In this moment, the last thing I want to do is pressure him or say anything to ruin his mood. He doesn’t get enough moments like these. “You never have to thank me, pet. I love you.”
He smiles again, and today, it reaches those gorgeous blue eyes. “Love you, too, Sir.”
I help him back to his feet, straighten his clothes, then receive one final kiss from him before I unlock his office door and go in search of Jordan.
Our IT manager’s just finishing up with him. He’s got a new phone and I can see he’s back to shell-shocked Jordan.
That’s sexy as hell, too.
This guy’s deep, man. I can feel it. I have a suspicion I might make some visits to Florida in the near future, once he returns. Maybe spend weekends there on occasion.
Yes, with Jordan.
Here I am over six years later, and I’m still with Elliot, despite all the related bullshit, after falling hard for him the first night we met.
Lightning damn sure can strike twice.
I should know—that’s me standing here, my hair smoldering and body vibrating down to a cellular level from the way Jordan makes me feel.
I know this feeling well.
Time will tell if it’ll burn me or not.
* * * *
Over the next two weeks, Jordan jumps in with both feet and finds his way. Not only is he organizing the design aspect, and putting in all the inventory requests for furniture, he’s also handling the moving of both Shae and Elliot’s things. Some of what he’s using in his plans is already either at the White House or Number One Observatory Circle. The rest of the furniture he’ll need will come from the government inventory.
There won’t be much personal furniture items used for either one of them. What little Elliot has will be stored upstairs in his residence, and since Shae is keeping her townhouse here in DC, most of what will be moved for her and Chris are boxes of small items, like clothing, books, and such.
With Kev using the townhouse as his official residence, he can travel back and forth and bring anything they need that might have been overlooked.
In Jordan, I see a competent and capable man who’s easily adapted to an understandably chaotic situation. He often jumps in to help the social media team with staging photos and graphics for posting. He’s frequently volunteered to help out in other ways, never dropping the ball. He’s tenacious and a self-starter. Once, I had to send him to Elliot’s with a Secret Service detail to pick up a suit for Elliot when he accidentally dumped coffee all over himself at lunch and I had to accompany Shae to an event.
Even my pet had to admit Jordan did well, staying calm under fire, so to speak.
Hmm.
There’s been nonstop low-key flirting between me and Jordan. I should be the cautious one but, time and again, I find myself drawn to him and following his conversational paths that invariably lead to deeper and more emotionally intimate topics.
We manage to eat at least one meal a day together, usually breakfast. I like heading to his hotel and picking him up to take him out. Depending on my schedule with Shae, we’ve had lunch and dinner several times, too. Then there have been plenty of evenings I’ve seen him safely back to his hotel at the end of the night.
Hey, all he has to do is speak up, ask me not to pursue something with Jordan, and I won’t.
Except…
I want to. I really, really want to. Every day, I want to even more.
And at 11:00 Thursday night, two weeks after Jordan’s arrival in DC, he and I are sitting at a table in the bar in his hotel’s lobby, where we’re having a late dinner and drink after having hit the ground running at five that morning. We’re tucked alone in a dark, quiet corner with no one close to overhear.
I’ll put this dinner on my personal credit card because I want to have a conversation about us tonight.
Except he beats me to the topic. I don’t think it has anything to do with the effects of his martini hitting him, either.
“So, is there some sort of big boss fight I have to win to level up personally with Leo Cruz?” He’s wearing a playful smile when he says it.
It’s so close to my own thoughts that it’s spooky.
Then again, there have been countless times over these last two weeks where we said nearly the exact same thing at the same time.
When I tell you things with Jordan are easy, I’m not exaggerating. I feel comfortable around him, and I can see him interacting in a different way with me than he does with others.
Part of me wants to take him upstairs and make love to him right now.
That would be…reckless.
Stupid.
Risking my career and reputation on an indiscretion.
Another indiscretion, if you count Elliot.
I glance around and drop my voice. “It’s complicated. Not impossibly so. That complication is mostly on my end.”
“You need permission?” The slight lilt in his voice speaks to friendly teasing, not irritation.
“I have permission. I also need to be cautious.” I level my gaze at him and prop my left elbow on the table, my hand nonchalantly positioned like I’m bracing my chin in my palm.
What I’m doing is blocking the view of my mouth with my fingers, on the chance we’re being watched by anyone. I drop my voice to a whisper. “I could take you upstairs right now and fuck your brains out and not be violating any trusts, if I thought that’d be a good idea tonight.”