Chapter Thirty
Sunday morning, I awake ahead of Elliot, grab the burner phone, and take it downstairs with me when I go to make our coffee.
I kept Elliot so mentally distracted after our talk last night that he could barely put two words together, much less operate an electronic device.
I think I’m getting pretty good at this Sir stuff.
I can see I’ll be buying more prostate massagers to play with because he definitely loved it.
Hey, I’ll gladly take whatever help I can get to level the playing field between us.
I finally power up the burner phone and find that Leo sent a text two hours ago.
Leaving hotel, will be flying. I’ll check in when I reach next hotel. Love you and miss you. GD.
I know that code shorthand.
Going Dark.
Meaning his phone’s off.
Good, I don’t have to lie to Elliot when I wake him up.
I won’t respond to the text, becauseGDmeans he’ll text once he can. I screenshot it and then shut off the phone.
Let Leo think what he wants about the fact that his message was read and not responded to.
Let him be the one left spinning in the wind for a while.
I slip the phone into the pocket of Elliot’s robe—which I’m wearing, yes—take the prepared mugs of coffee upstairs, and then set the burner phone on my nightstand before I slide back into bed with Elliot.
So far, he hasn’t had any nightmares, that I’m aware of. And I haven’t seen any clear manifestations of his PTSD. It is, however, why I’m careful not to startle him awake. It was something Leo told me about, and I might be petty, but about something like this, I don’t want to be fricking cruel to him. The guy is a legit hero. Even after he was wounded, he kept returning fire, trying to help save some of his guys who were down while they awaited backup.
That trumps my pettiness every time, and always will.
That’s why I can put him first like this.
I’m still in his robe, because I’ve learned if I don’t wear it, it’s too easy for him to get handsy with me and try to talk me into morning sex. He doesn’t wake up to my alarm, because I’m a light sleeper and my years with Leo taught me to stick to a morning routine. I use a vibration alarm, plus the alarm hits my watch and vibrates, too. I have a loud backup alarm, just in case, but I always shut it off when I wake up.
I spoon against his back, my arm slipping around his waist. Nuzzling the nape of his neck gets me immediate results and threatens to harden my cock because he scoots his butt against me. Sure, he’s taller than me, but we still fit together perfectly regardless of whether it’s me spooning him or vice versa.
Lightly grazing my teeth along the side of his throat makes him squirm, especially when I nip his earlobe. “Good morning, Mister Vice President.”
When he sucks in a deep breath, I know he’s awake. Another of Leo’s tricks—to use the title when we’re alone.
“Sunday morning?” he mutters.
“Yes.” I tug on his earlobe with my lips. “It’s Sunday morning. Big day. We need to get you up and moving.” I laid out our clothes last night and rumpled my bed.
Elliot takes another deep breath and holds it for a moment before blowing it out again. “Tell me I’m doing the right thing, Jor. Or tell me I’m making a mistake. Please?”
I make him roll onto his back so I can look him in the eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, either way. I made you a promise and I’ll keep it.”
“What if I don’t run? Would you leave?”
“Would you want me to?”
“No. I know Leo’s going to ‘see I told you so’ me to infinity, and I deserve it. This has been the best ten days I can remember in a long damn time. I don’t want you to leave.”
