“Yes, Master.” It comes out as a whisper.
His smile widens. “Whatwas that,pet?”
We no longer have to steal hidden minutes in the dark of the night or behind a locked office door.
I no longer have to settle for a too-brief moment on my knees, or a quick head scratch, or the feel of a hand between my shoulder blades, fingers scrunching against the fabric of my suit coat, or through my shirt.
No more whispers, and head tips and nods, and countless other secret cues disguised to look totally innocent and vanilla.
No more trying to mentally track the whereabouts of the official White House photographer or stenographer, so they don’t accidentally catch something and it blows up in the press.
No more fear.
No more.
I look Leo in the eyes. “Yes, Master,” I say in my normal voice.
Damn, does that feel good.
I’ve never seen Leo look soblissfullyhappy. Not even on our wedding night. He releases my wrists, cages my body with his hands braced against the bed on either side of my head, and leans in to nuzzle his nose against mine.
“My sweet, perfect pet.” When he slants his lips over mine and kisses me, time warps and fades away, replaced by nothing butHim.
“A-hem.”
Leo ends our kiss. We look up to see Jordan standing in the doorway with a tray in his hands, on which sit three mugs of coffee. He’s wearing a playfully snarky look I know all too well and arches one eyebrow at us.
Other than his wedding ring, his bracelets, and his glasses, he’s naked.
“Starting without me?” He walks in and sets the tray on the nightstand.
“Of course not, baby,” Leo says. “Get your gorgeous ass back in this bed.”
But Jordan hands a mug of coffee to him instead.
Leo sits up and takes it, sipping, sighing. “Damn, that’s good.”
“It’s the taste of freedom,” Jordan jokes, and he’s not wrong. Leo climbs off me so I can sit up and accept my mug from Jordan, with a good-morning kiss on the side. Then Jordan climbs back into bed with us and picks up his own mug. I’m in the middle now, and maybe that was their grand plan after all.
Jordan looks a little pensive. “Sir?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, boy.”
“Ahem.”
We both look at Leo, who’s now doing the arched eyebrow thing.
“Sorry,Master,” Jordan says. Except a smile curves his lips. “Hey, don’t I get brownie points for all the years I worked withhim?” He playfully pouts as he hooks a thumb in my direction, and it’s adorable. “It’s going to take me a little while to break the habit of being in charge of him.”
“I’ll break you in, all right,” Leo says. “When’s breakfast going to be ready?” He sets his coffee mug on the nightstand.
“Forty-five minutes, Master.”
“Breakfast casserole?” Leo asks.
“As you requested.”
Leo smiles and looks up at the ceiling. “Thank you, Mimi.” Then he focuses on Jordan, his smile fading. “Seriously, though. What’s wrong?”
