You’d be wrong. Especially since there are things about the hell I survived that I haven’t even revealed to Leo.
Later that night, once I’m alone I agonize over whether or not to include a note with Jordan’s tie before I wrap it. Dare I risk something that can be connected back to me should things go wrong and Jordan decides to incinerate my world?
Nothing Leo and I have together can officially be tied to either of us. We’ve put nothing in writing anyone can wield against us. We have unregistered burner phones and use an encrypted app for our calls and texts.
But…dammit, I wantsomething. Somethingtangible.
Rummaging through my desk I find a pad of sticky notes. After a ridiculously long time I finally settle on drawing a smiley face and sign it with anE. After sticking it to the tie, I kiss my finger and touch it to the note while a fantasy of pulling Jordan into my arms and kissing him hardens my cock.
Not that I can do anything about that. I don’t masturbate without permission from Leo and I’ve never broken that vow. It’s another way to help me feel connected to him.
Then I carefully wrap the box, my pulse fluttering at the thought of Jordan smiling when he opens it.
The next evening Leo drops by so we can exchange gifts. Master bought me two ties—in patterns only we have—and another that is one of a set the three of us will share.
When I hand him the box for Jordan I watch his face and spot the way he immediately schools the eager glee trying to break through.
“Matchies,” I quietly volunteer.
In some ways it breaks my heart Leo believes I feel at best ambivalent about Jordan. Except I can’t risk Leo learning the truth and telling Jordan. Or maybe manipulating Jordan into thinking he has feelings for me. Leo’s a sadist, a trained psychologist, and a skilled former Secret Service agent. He might not mean to manipulate Jordan but I can see where Leo’s eagerness for the three of us to be together might create just that scenario.
It’s bad enough secretly loving one man. The difference is I know beyond all doubts Leo won’t incinerate my world if he ever walks away. He’s not of the political world but he effortlessly and invisibly moves through it, from the shallows down to crushing-pressure depths.
Meaning his loyalty to his ethics as former Secret Service, as a psychologist, and to his boss and friend would not allow him to shred me in his wake no matter how ugly our personal parting. Leo wouldn’t publicly wound me and then leave me to bleed out and be consumed by the scavengers of the political swamp.
He would protect me and my privacy with his very life, even after a break-up, because that’s the kind of man he is.
No matter my feelings for Jordan, I have no such assurances about him. Not yet, anyway. No matter how much I wish I did.
Leo nods as he tucks the box into his backpack but then he withdraws an inexpensive plastic Christmas cookie tin and stares at it for a moment.
“I didn’t ask or tell him to do this,” he says. “He asked me, and I told him it was all right and that I’d pass it along for him. I also told him he and I weren’t exchanging gifts this year because I know he’s stressing over finances and his free time is limited. Although I bought him two ties.”
Leo doesn’t have to tell me who “he” is—it’s Jordan.
Struggling not to rip the tin from his hands and greedily clutch it against my chest consumes more restraint than I’m comfortable admitting, yet I force myself to remain still and nod over his words.
“He really likes you, El.” Leo’s brown gaze fills with worry, and hope, and that ever-present patience that has sustained me for so long. “I know you don’t trust easily or well but I wouldn’t let him close to either of us if I thought he’d be a risk to you. He could be your body man and provide both of us with cover for me to spend more time with you.”
That nearly shatters my resolve.
Still, I resist. The last time I carelessly,selfishlygave in to what I really wanted, people died.
He passes me the tin and I carefully open it. Nestled inside, in tissue paper, is an assortment of beautiful homemade cookies. I carefully pluck one out and take a bite of the best shortbread I’ve ever put in my mouth. It’s perfectly tender with a sweet, buttery richness that melts against my tongue.
Leo smiles. “He’s a damned good cook. Keep that in mind.”
I nod and look down at the tin again to give myself a moment while I slowly take another bite.
“Good, pet?”
“Delicious.” I offer him the tin but he declines with a smile. “Those are all for you. I have plenty at home.” His smile fades as he sadly sighs. “If you can’t do this,tellme, and I’ll break up with him.”
I shake my head even as I take another bite of the cookie. It’s better than sex and I imagine Jordan standing at Leo’s counter and rolling out the dough. I’ve spent countless hours with Leo over the years at his place and know every inch of his kitchen.
Leo sadly sighs again and reaches over to cup the nape of my neck. “Stubborn pet,” he whispers, kissing me. “Love you.”
I close my eyes. “Love you, too, Master. Please tell him thank you for me. They’re delicious.”
