His eyes widen as he nervously flicks his tongue and licks his lips. “Oh.”
Ahhh, finally. I have found something to shake his personal confidence. Or shake the excellent veneer he’s put forth so far.
I keep my voice low and my hand in place. “But we need to have private discussions on that first. May I cook you dinner tomorrow night?”
He swallows and eagerly nods, making me smile and making my sadist very, very happy. I’d prefer to do this on Saturday, except Shae has an event Saturday night, and I need to be there.
“I’m not looking for a quick fuck,” I continue. “Tomorrow night is just dinner, so we can talk. You might not be so eager to level up with me once you get to know me better.”
Those long, elegant fingers wrap around his martini glass and he lifts it, taking a sip, his gaze locked on mine. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Here’s something for you to chew on. Hypothetically, what if you can never talk to anyone about a goodly chunk of your personal life?”
“I can keep a secret.”
“This isn’t only about secrets. This is about lives. This is about you being close, in many ways, to the woman who will have access to our nation’s nuclear arsenal.” I decide to toss out this little nugget. “And you’ll have to make a decision about staying here in DC or returning to Florida.”
From the way he blinks and scowls a little, I can tell we’re straying outside his comfort zone. His eyebrows arch. “Staying here?”
“There will be a lot of positions to staff once she takes office. That’s not a quid pro quo, either. If you want to stay in DC and don’t want a relationship with me, I’d still see about finding you a job.”
Looks like the possibility is hitting him for the first time. “I…I honestly hadn’t thought quite that far ahead.” He takes another sip of his drink. The way his hand trembles a little as he does lets me think that maybe he has thought that far ahead, but he also thought it was an impossibility, consigned to the realm of bedtime or shower fantasies.
Dropping my hand, I pick up my fork. “That’s why I want to cook you dinner tomorrow.” I smile. “Because I don’t play those kinds of games.”
We finish dinner and I opt to walk him up to his room. I’m sure he can make it on his own, and he doesn’t seem drunk from the one drink, but I can see the problem already.
I’m now thinking about him as mine, and I want to make sure he gets there safely.
When he unlocks his door and steps inside, he turns, so close I could easily pull him to me and kiss him. “In case you weren’t sure,” he softly says, “I am interested. I asked you. I don’t consider this sexual harassment or anything, if that’s a worry. I’d tell you if I thought it was. If I step over a line with you, tell me.”
I rest my arm against the door frame and smile down at him. “If you had, I already would have reeled you in.”
Passion and need are flowing between us, swirling like a thickening fog.
Just like that first night with Elliot.
“Protect my trust,” I say, “and never lie to me. It’s that easy.”
“Not that easy. It’s ‘complicated.’ You said so.” He smiles.
“A producer from FNB offers you a hundred grand, cash, to wear a wire and carry a hidden camera,” I say. “What do you tell them?”
His eyes widen a little. “What?”
“You’ll get outright offers. You’ll get people suddenly wanting to be your friend, and you’ll have no clue why. Asking you little questions here and there, wanting favors. Being with me means you can never trust others. Not even people you’ve known for years. Everyone’s suspect.”
“What about trusting you?”
“Besides me, and besides people I tell you that you can trust. There are lives at stake, and considering she’s going to be Commander in Chief, that’s not an exaggeration.” I see the moment the truth hits him and really sinks home. “Aaannnnd there it is.” I wonder if I’ve just sunk my chances with him because that’s a pretty heavy responsibility for anyone to bear, much less someone his age.
He stares up at me. “It sounds like a very lonely life.”
I slowly nod. “It is. I also wouldn’t blame you if you run the other direction. But another hypothetical for you.”
I drop my voice again. “You can’t tell people you’re dating the ‘president’s body man’ unless it’s someone I’ve told you is safe. There will be security clearance forms to think about, and you can’t lie on them. That’s why we need to talk. About a lot of things. Because if we’re going to date, it’s not a one-time fling for me. If you’re looking for no-strings sex, I’m sorry, that’s not me, no matter how much I’m attracted to you.”
Did…
Did I just say that? The D-word? Date?
Oh, shit. I did. More than once.
Fuck. Something about him totally does things to me that normally only Elliot has been able to do.
He edges closer to me and drops his voice to a whisper. “I know what loneliness looks like. I see it every time I look in the mirror.” He reaches up and cups my cheek. At the contact, a shiver rushes through me, sending blood to my cock and making me suck in a breath.
His eyes, though. Those gorgeous fucking eyes of his, staring up at me, and those beautiful, long, full eyelashes.
Oh, baby boy.
“Maybe we can be a little less lonely together, Leo.” His thumb brushes over my lips and I kiss it, staring into his eyes, my heart pounding.
I want to push him deeper inside his room and make love to him right now.
He’s sweet and good and dammit, I could have it all. Give Elliot the sadist, and finally have a loving relationship that doesn’t need to completely live in the darkness.
Couldn’t I?
I reach up, take his hand in mine, and feather my lips over his knuckles, watching him as I do. When he sucks in a breath at the contact, I see it.
He’s not nearly as brave as he’s trying to be.
“I’ll text you my address. Any food allergies?” Please don’t let him be some gluten-free, vegan, keto diet guy.
He smiles. “No allergies. As far as the menu goes, I trust you. Nothing thermonuclear hot. Can I bring anything?”
“Yourself, and a bottle of wine. Your choice what kind.” I kiss his hand one last time before releasing it with a gentle squeeze. I’m already planning the menu in my head. “Talking.”
He nods. “Talking. We do need to…talk.” He blushes.
I wonder what that’s for, but I’ll find out tomorrow.
It’s not only Elliot’s secrets I have to protect. Shae, Chris, and Kev are counting on me. I don’t want to sink her first hundred days because I fucked a cute grad student who couldn’t keep his mouth shut and talked to a WaPo reporter at a mixer.
Depending on how tomorrow night goes… I’ll still probably hold off sleeping with him until after the inauguration. That would be the safest thing, and allow us time to get to know each other.
Except that’s not what my cock wants.
My cock wants to know why the hell it’s not buried inside Jordan’s sweet little throat right now.
Which means it’s a damn good thing I can control my cock.
Forcing myself back a step, I smile. “Lock the door and put the security bar in place. I’ll pick you up at seven in the morning.”
Those gorgeous lashes of his flutter against his cheeks. “I know trust has to be earned. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to earn yours. You’ve already earned mine.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “How do you know I’m someone you can trust? How do you know I’m not a very bad man?”
He’s already easing the door shut but I spot his playful smirk. “How do you know I’m not?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
On the cab ride home, I text Elliot good night. I strip, head right for the bathroom, and jerk off twice in the shower before collapsing in bed.
With Jordan’s face in my mind as I do.
So…wow.
I already think I know what I need to do, and that’s talk to Jordan. We can agree to build a relationship, but sex needs to wait until after Shae’s sworn in. That’s a reasonable target date. By then, I’ll know for certain if I can trust him. Or if my instincts about him are even accurate.
Otherwise, no harm, no foul, we’re just friends and coworkers. Nothing unethical about that in the least. No scandal.
His initial background check came back clear—his credit’s fine, no arrests, no judgments or bankruptcies or anything like that. The more detailed background check is underway, but it’ll take a while to complete. Not like he’s a cabinet official who needs to get rushed through a Senate confirmation.
It also means if he decides to return to Florida after his job ends instead of seeking a new one in the administration…
Well, that won’t hurt nearly as much if I haven’t slept with him. Right?
I collapse in bed and, after I set my alarm for in the morning, I look at the pictures I’ve secretly taken of Jordan over the past couple of weeks.
He looks nothing like Elliot, yet he reminds me of Elliot in our early days in so many ways. If I could smoosh the two of them together and Frankenstein the perfect guy, I would.
Or can I smoosh them together in real-life?
Hmm.
Before all of this swept into our lives, when we still had what could almost pass for a normal personal life, one of the bedroom fantasies that came up quite frequently between Elliot and me—usually brought up by him—was a threesome. Although fantasies aren’t something we’ve talked about since well before he joined the campaign. That was back when Elliot and I still had enough time I could do a lot more than simply give him a beating and get him off during our brief interludes.
I think about this.
Really think about it. Hard.
If I position Jordan as Elliot’s body man, that gives me access to both of them, it gives me someone I can—hopefully, if things progress well—trust to take care of Elliot.
Then, in eight years, I can be Elliot’s body man. Shae’s already told me when he files to run that she understands I’ll be working with him, and she’s fine with that.
But if I also have Jordan…
An alibi man. A third person to eliminate the whispers. Who I can trust with Elliot’s safety and care.
At some point, we could let it slip that Jordan and I are dating, if we ever need to take heat off Elliot.
It gives me a lot to consider as I fall asleep thinking about having not just one of them in bed with me, but maybe being surrounded by both of them.
* * * *
The next day, I have to spend several hours in the office. I again pick Jordan up for breakfast. A cold front’s moved in and it’s a bitterly cold, damp day. I notice after we make the walk from his hotel to the breakfast restaurant that, despite his coat, Jordan’s shivering.
I make a mental note to loan him one of my scarves, hats, and a pair of gloves.
When we reach the office, Elliot’s already there. Jordan has to take his first trip to the warehouse today to look at the furniture he’s selected so far to see if it’ll actually work for the spaces.
At least I don’t have to worry about Jordan freezing. Secret Service is driving him because it’s a secure location due to the value of some of the pieces being stored there.
It also means I can steal a little bit of time to talk to Elliot.
Alone.
This is not a conversation I ever seriously thought I’d have with him. Unfortunately, I cannot live my life perpetually unsure of where I stand with the guy I fricking love.
I don’t know if it’s made better or worse by the fact that Elliot told me I should date other people, despite how I’m sure it will kill him at least a little inside if I do.
All he has to do is ask me not to. That’s all.
I’m willing to wait and be patient if I have an idea of what’s going on inside that head of his, but Elliot can’t even give me that much.
No guarantees that after he’s out of office he’ll be able to make himself come out, either.
I’m not living in a fucking closet. Not for the rest of my life. Won’t do it. Refuse to do it.
If that’s what Elliot needs long-term, then I suppose I’m not the guy for him after all.
Except I love him, and I really want to be his forever man.
I guess Elliot will either de-ass his head when I sit him down for this conversation, or he’ll pretend he’s okay with it, or he’ll dump me.
But I can’t keep beating my head against the same damn spot on the wall and praying for something different to happen.
I’m no masochist. Not at all.
Physically, emotionally, or otherwise.
My time with Elliot notwithstanding, of course.
Once Elliot’s alone, and I know we’ve got a little time, I lock myself in his office with him and stop him before he can slide out of his chair.
“What’s wrong, Sir?” he asks.
“We need to talk, El.” I grab a chair and drag it over. I’m hoping the very real possibility of a rival will shake him up enough to tell me no, don’t see Jordan.
I hold my hands out and wiggle my fingers at him, wanting him to take them.
Even a gesture as simple as this is a rare treat for me. My body’s craving physical contact with him. The psychologist knows it’s skin hunger, and that Elliot’s likely suffering from it, too.
Except Elliot’s deprived himself for most of his life and he’s used to it far more than I am.
He takes my hands and I gently squeeze them. “I’ve asked Jordan to come over to my place tonight. I’m going to cook him dinner.”
His sharp intake of breath… It fucking kills me, but I don’t stop. We’re already in the middle of it. “I’ve told him it’s only to talk and have dinner.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why not…more?”
“Because I’m not willing to nuke what you and I have. Especially over a guy I’ve only known for two weeks.”
He finally looks into my eyes. “I told you to go date.”
“Ask me not to. Tell me not to.”
He slowly shakes his head.
I sigh, sad because I know he’s not backing down from this. “I’m going to take things slowly. If you can’t handle the thought of me dating, tell me.”
“I told you to.”
I’m not going to spend an hour rehashing this with him. “All right. I’m not going to tell him about you. I mean, he already knows I have a complicated situation, but we haven’t discussed details, and he doesn’t know it’s you. Are you going to be able to work with him?”
He nods but I can already see he’s close to tears.
A good man would stop, reverse course, and tell his pet to forget it, right?
I am not a good man.
And I’ve been patient for over six goddamned years.
I lean in and kiss him. “I love you, and I won’t do anything I think will harm you and me. I’m not going anywhere, pet.”
He nods again.
“Okay.” I make a mental note to make sure I text him earlier than I normally would tonight, so he doesn’t worry himself into puking.
And to make sure I never miss a nighttime text with him. In fact, I should probably add additional text contact, if we’re not together.
One more kiss. “I love you, pet. You’re my good boy.”
He leans forward, resting his forehead against mine. “I love you, too, Master.”
I let my hand settle on the back of his head so I can massage him there. I can’t force him to let me in. This has also taken the sadistic satisfaction out of the equation.
No, I won’t play games with Elliot’s heart, or Jordan’s.
Yeah, I do want to try dating Jordan.
If the benefit is that Elliot gets off his ass? Great. But I won’t manipulate him.
Now, all I ha
ve to do is not fuck up three lives in the process of stumbling through whatever the hell this might be.
* * * *
Before Jordan returns to the office, I’ve texted him my address and tell him what time to be at my place tonight, and he confirms.
It’s done.
This first step.
I feel a weird mix of freedom and guilt. I’ve never so much as gone out for coffee with another guy as anything other than coworkers or platonic friends.
Not since Elliot.
Elliot leaves before I do but even with staff around, I still catch his eyes and lean in close so I can whisper. “Yes, or no?” I can still call this off if it’s percolated through his brain.
I watch him sigh but he meets my gaze. “Yes,” he firmly says, along with giving me one of his head nods.
“Okay.”
On my way home, I stop by the grocery store and pick up what I’ll need to make meatloaf. It’s easy, it’ll freeze well, and it’s something I can make in my sleep.
Which is good, because I need every available brain cell that I have for tonight.
Something about Jordan Walsh has totally gotten under my skin. I’m torn between wanting to take him to a private dungeon I know of in the DC area and teach him a thousand dirty things in a weekend, and wanting to cherish the innocent boy he is and woo him and take my time slowly seducing him. Romancing him.
Having the relationship Elliot and I didn’t get.
I honestly don’t know which fantasy is hotter.
What Elliot and I have perpetually lives in the shadows by his decree. He likes the raw and darkest edges of my sadist. He wants me at my literal worst when we can steal a little private time together. Unfortunately, a little time is usually all we have, so the fun stuff we used to get to do together, the more romantic lovemaking, has been pushed aside.
Because time management is a thing, and I have to manage what precious little time I get with Elliot to maximize the benefits he receives from it.
Not with Jordan, though. If we do this thing, I will not be rushed.
I need Jordan to see me at my best because I’m already thinking of him in terms of being mine.
Indiscretion (Inequitable Trilogy Book 1) Page 27