If I reprogram the alarm, he’s going to turn around and reset it again, until I either give in to him, or I tell him to go fuck himself and Elliot weighs in to tell him to stop. It’s not a battle worth fighting when I already have multiple fronts under siege from Sir Stalksalot.
I start playing his voice messages and archiving them, and it’s difficult not to break down crying at the sound of his voice.
He really was worried about me.
Oh, fuck.
I stare at my phone. Just by turning it on, he can now track me again. He knows I turned it on last night, and maybe he took that as an invitation to keep trying?
Then I think about maybe he stood there in the bedroom doorway this morning and stared at me and Elliot in bed while we slept.
Because I know damned well if he was in this house this morning, he wouldn’t be able to resist doing that. And I’ve been leaving the bedroom door open because I’m trying to get Elliot used to feeling comfortable in the house. He needs to understand if he’s told the detail no one comes in before a certain time, he can trust they’ll respect that and keep him safe. It’s one way I’m trying to get him to let go of control of things he doesn’t need to worry about, and Leo never really worked with him on before because of their limited time together.
Back to the thought that Leo probably watched us sleeping. Again, torn between the whole creeped out or endearing behavior conundrum.
I—
Motherfucker.
I grab our coffee, head up to the bedroom where Elliot’s still sleeping, leave his coffee on the nightstand, then walk to the stairs and climb to the third floor.
He’s standing at the end of the hall and staring out the window at the backyard while he sips coffee from hisSlave Drivercoffee mug. Elliot gave him that mug several years ago for Christmas, the first Christmas Elliot was living here, a year after the election. It tickled Leo to death because it was something Elliot gave Leo to keep here, that washis, and it was a double entendre we could all smile about.
That year, Elliot got me a coffee mug, too. Mine saysKiss the Cook, and it’s still down there in the cabinet. I use it nearly every morning. It was a silent nod to who I was to Leo, even if I wasn’t here very much back then, and Elliot and I weren’t doing any kissing.
Icannothave this confrontation with Leo yet. If he pushes me too hard right now, I’ll snap and tell him to permanently go fuck himself. “You can’t be here.”
“And yet, I am.” I hear the smile in his voice even with his face turned away from me.
He’s pleased I figured it out, that he was up here.
“Don’t make me have them pull your keys and code. I’ll hit the panic button and call Stephen Lyman right now and tell him to send a couple of his biggest guys in here todragyou out and change the fucking locks.” That’s the head of Elliot’s detail.
Leo finally turns, leaning against the wall, that playful smirk on his face, the one that always melts me even as it hardens my cock.
Like it is right now.
“I loved watching the two of you together like that. That was fuckinghot, baby.” He stares at me over the top of his mug as he sips. I’m trying to think why watching us sleep would be…
Oh, son of a—
“Youwoke Elliot up last night.”
He doesn’t reply, but the outer edges of his eyes narrow over the top of his coffee mug.
That’s exactly what he did.
And he…watchedus.
His greatest dream finally coming true, in part. To have his boys together.
My cock wants to stand up and say howdy to him. Okay, yeah, I’veliterallyhad years of fantasies building up in my head about the three of us together, but this is out of control.
Leo’s out of control.
Worse, he’s going to drag me out of control with him, and Elliot cannot afford for there to be no grown-ups at the steering wheel, and with an emergency brake handle snapped clean off.
I hold up a finger. “Until this is settled between us, no more drop-ins without askingmefirst, day or night, or Iwillhave them pull your fricking codes and change the locks.” Second finger. “‘Give me space’ means giving mefuckingspace, Leo,notshowing up out of the blue and stalking me.”
