Page 122 of Indiscretion

“Okay.”

On my way home, I stop by the grocery store and pick up what I’ll need to make meatloaf. It’s easy, it’ll freeze well, and it’s something I can make in my sleep.

Which is good, because I need every available brain cell that I have for tonight.

Something about Jordan Walsh has totally gotten under my skin. I’m torn between wanting to take him to a private dungeon I know of in the DC area and teach him a thousand dirty things in a weekend, and wanting to cherish the innocent boy he is and woo him and take my time slowly seducing him. Romancing him.

Having the relationship Elliot and I didn’t get.

I honestly don’t know which fantasy is hotter.

What Elliot and I have perpetually lives in the shadows by his decree. He likes the raw and darkest edges of my sadist. Hewantsme at my literal worst when we can steal a little private time together. Unfortunately, a little time is usually all we have, so the fun stuff we used to get to do together, the more romantic lovemaking, has been pushed aside.

Because time management is athing, and I have to manage what precious little time I get with Elliot to maximize the benefits he receives from it.

Not with Jordan, though. If we do this thing, I willnotbe rushed.

I need Jordan to see me at my best because I’m already thinking of him in terms of beingmine.

Myboy.

That’s the main reason why I decided to cook dinner for him. I don’t get to cook very often. Especially not for other people.

Other than the occasional protectee I was assigned to while working private security, the last person I got to cook for was Elliot. That was long before he was tapped to join Shae’s campaign, so it’s been…a while.

I’m lonely, physically and emotionally.

Which is why I need to be careful and take my time.

When I stare into Jordan’s eyes, I find myself distracted in a way that never happens to me.

Ever.

Not since meeting Elliot.

When I watch Jordan nudge his glasses up his nose, the nervous little smiles he gives me, he’s so fricking adorable I don’t have words for it in any of the languages I speak.

He makes me want to do right by him. To wrap my arms around him and protect him, cushion him from life taking any more whacks at him.

Nervous energy fills me as I prepare for his arrival. I find myself flustered and anxious in a way I don’t usually feel.

I might be cooking him dinner, and all we’re going to do is talk, but I know the truth.

This is a damneddate.

Something else I haven’t had one of in far too long. Which is stupid, I know. I should totally go out and date and get laid.

Maybe it’s a good thing I haven’t. It’s left me open to meeting Jordan, after all.

I try not to think about all the countless times I’ve imagined Elliot walking up to my door and me letting him in and spending a night together, like in our early days.

Not something that can happen now. Not secretly, anyway.

Never again is it something that can happen. Everyone knows who he is now. He’s no longer a practically anonymous junior congressman from Nebraska.

Doesn’t mean I can pare those fantasies out of my soul like rotten sections of an otherwise good apple.

Fantasies of me taking Elliot intomybed and being able to wake up next to him in the morning. Spending more magical weekends like that first weekend, and others.