Chapter Eleven
Then
At twenty-six going on twenty-seven in a few weeks, Chris is five years older than me, and his full name is Christopher William Bruunt.
Or, Special Agent Christopher William Bruunt, if you want to get technical.
“How do I know you’re not just pulling my leg?” I ask. “Anyone can say they’re Secret Service.” Although I feel a thrill roll through me, picturinghim in a suit and tie, the sunglasses.
Rwar.
He stops us, right there on the sidewalk, pulls out his wallet, and shows me an ID that identifies him as Secret Service. “My gun and badge are locked in my room safe.” He wears the sexy smile that’s drawn me in. “After dinner, we can go up there, if you’d like. Or, I can come to your room.”
I nod.
“Which did you prefer?” he asks.
I swallow hard.“Yes.”
This time when he laughs, it sounds easy, sweet. He tucks his wallet back into his pocket, takes my hand again, and we continue down the sidewalk. “We ate at this place last night,” he says. “Good food, decent prices. Tiramisu to die for.”
It’s one block over. A cool salt-tinged breeze washed in off the Atlantic as we talk and he leads the way to the small family-owned Italian restaurantthat’s apparently been there for years. Because we don’t mind sitting in their bar area, we can grab a small, cozy high top with bar stools in a corner and not wait for a regular table in the dining room. I skim the menu as he orders a pitcher of beer and two waters for us.
“I know you’re at least twenty-one,” he says, “because that club cards everyone.”
I nod. “I’m twenty-one. Twenty-two ina couple of months.” We get the chit-chat out of the way. I’m still trying to come to grips with the fact that this gorgeous guy hit onme.
“So you’re Congressman Markos’ son, huh?” His eyes crinkle in amusement. “I gotta say, maybe not my best pickup line, but people think your dad’s an asshole.”
I snort. “That’s because heisan asshole. I can’t believe the idiots in that state keep electinghim. You think he’s an assholenow? Try beingraisedby him.”
His smile widens. “So how’d you end up in Florida?”
I tell him the story, born and raised here and returned for school, but moving to DC for my internship once the semester ends. “You?”
“I grew up outside of Orlando. Been working out of the field office there. But I’m transferring to DC.” His gaze stays on me, watching my reactionto that news.
I swallow hard. “Oh.” Holy shit, that would be both the best thing ever…
Also, the most terrifying. No way in hell I could have a relationship with him in DC.
After a moment, he lets me off the hook with that playful smile I know is going to be my undoing. “Hey, let’s start with seeing how we get through tonight. DC’s a huge town, you know. If you decide I’m not for you, no harm,no foul.”
I want at least tonight with him. The more time I spend with the guy, the more I notice about him. The way he’s constantly watching me, but still glances around the room, highly aware of our surroundings. He’s dangerous, but I feel safe with him.
Stupid, I know.
Dinner is amazing. I realize what he’s doing as we’re chatting—he’s putting me at ease. We talk about movies, music, books.Everything except the obvious. Halfway through the main course, he tips his head to the side and smiles at me.
“Tell me what you want from tonight,” he prompts.
Heat fills my face, and it’s not from the beer. “I honestly don’t know. You mean besides sex?”
Chris reaches across the table with his right hand and touches the back of my left, trails his middle finger along it. When he speaks again,his gaze holds mine, and his voice drops to a low, sexy rumble. “What kind of sex are you looking for?”
I swallow hard. “I-I-I’m a… I mean, I think I’m…” I take a deep breath and let it out again. “I’m a bottom,” I whisper. “I think.”
That sexy-ass smile again. My cock, which has never fully softened since our initial meeting, once again hardens in my slacks. I probably have a freaking wet spotin my briefs. His gaze doesn’t leave me now.
