My heartthumpsin my chest when our gazes lock.
That’s when I’m remindedexactlywhy I’ve held out and keep trying.
Keephoping.
BecausenothingI’ve ever felt before is matched by what I feel for this man. And, right now, he’s a breath away from becoming POTUS, should the unthinkable happen.
Or, if the odds are in his favor, he’s only eight years away from his own election to the Oval Office.
This long-term push-me-pull-you notwithstanding, Elliot needs me.
I slip inside his office, shutting and locking the door behind me.
He’s already removing his glasses as I walk to his side, his arms opening to engulf me in that desperate hug that’s become a hallmark of what fleeting private time we have together.
Everything I was going to say dries up in my throat as I wrap my arms around him and he starts crying.
“I’m sorry, Master,” he hoarsely says.
I find myself once again comforting him, whispering the old truths, the ones I’ve repeated to my sweet pet so many times that I wonder if he even believes me.
I should’ve put my foot down that weekend in the suite after Shae asked him to be VP. I should have been brutally honest with him that he wasn’t even close to being ready to handle the stress of this office yet, and demanded that, if he really wanted to go through with it, he come out and marry me so at least I could stand beside him and openly ease his soul in times like these.
But…no.
I didn’t.
This is all on me.
If I ask him to come over to my place tonight…
Well, let’s just say that’s impossible, between his security and his publicity. There are already betting pools in Las Vegas trying to pair him off with various female celebrities.
If I offer to come to him tonight, I know I’ll force him to say yes and I’ll hate myself later.
I’ll hate myself if Idon’tmake him say yes.
Thus I hold him until he finally composes himself and looks up at me. “I think maybe you should see other people.”
I’m a master of not reacting, thanks to my training. I default to that same training in this moment as pain and fear fill my soul.
This isnotthe first time we’ve spun through this dance. Not even the tenth or twentieth.
He won’t meet my gaze, though. I catch him by the chin, my fingers rasping against the shadow of stubble already dusting his jaw, and tip his head up so he has to look me in the eyes.
I force myself to say the words. “Are you breaking up with me, El?”
I wait him out.
“No, Master,” he hoarsely whispers. “But this isn’t fair to you. I mean it—I want you to date others. I don’t want you to hate me.”
Gentling my grip, I cup his face in my hands and use my thumbs to brush away his tears. I’ve never dated anyone else since we’ve been together, even through our many off-again times.
I’ve neverwantedto.
Could I have gone out and found someone? Sure, absolutely, and that’s not bravado on my part. I know where to find hookups, and I know how to use a damn dating app.
It’s never appealed to me, though. I need more than a hot body—I need an intelligent mind and a warm, light, gentle soul to balance my inner darkness and cold, callous sadist.
