Innocent (Inequitable Trilogy Book 2) Page 8

  I included all of that info on my security clearance application, along with the fact that I am estranged from them, and have been for over ten years. I don’t know how their statements to the investigators will impact the process, but it’s out of my control and something I try not to worry about.

  Whatever they say won’t take away from the fact that I’m here now, and have a dream job to do. My portfolio will be awesome when I complete this project.

  Yes, not many interns can list “White House” as one of their projects.

  Elliot Woodley arrives and joins us. I think I catch a flash of…something from him, but I’m not sure. Then again, maybe I’m wrong, because he’s soon acting friendly, chatty, very personable.

  Maybe I’m wrong about this, too, but I’m not altogether sure that maybe he’s making eyes at Leo.

  And, I’m reasonably sure I’m correct about this, but it feels like maybe Leo’s flirting with me a little.

  Could I be that lucky?

  This is all fantasy, of course. Has to be. Or, more accurately, has to remain that way. I need to stay professional. I don’t want to screw up my big chance by getting fired for inappropriate behavior. That would really suck.

  It’d damned sure disappoint Mimi.

  That’s my kryptonite. Every major decision in my life is now weighed against whether or not it’d disappoint or please Mimi. Not in a creepy or unhealthy way. Not like when I was little, when I tried to win my dad’s attention and approval.

  She’s my invisible compass. I know if I keep her heart and love as my true spiritual north, I’m likely to succeed no matter what I do.

  Does that make sense?

  Maybe it doesn’t.

  When I’m finished there, Leo escorts me back to my hotel, and I invite him up to chat for a while.

  Yes, I want to ask him questions, but it’s more than wanting to spend additional time talking with him.

  He’s easy to talk to, easy on the eyes, and there’s already an easy rapport between us that should probably terrify the fricking hell out of me and yet…doesn’t.

  I have friends, but I miss having someone to talk to. Someone I feel comfortable with like I do Leo.

  The way I felt comfortable talking to Mimi.

  When he leaves, with a promise to pick me up the next morning and take me to breakfast, I fight the urge to hug him before he departs.

  Yep. I’ve got it bad. I definitely need to watch myself.

  Before falling asleep, I jerk off to a fantasy of being surrounded by Leo, Elliot Woodley, Kevin Markos, and Christopher Bruunt, and them all having their way with me.

  Older men in suuuuits.

  Sigh.

  I’m going to miss this place when I return to Tallahassee. I have plans to visit a few clubs to catch some bands while I’m here. I love music, and love going to live concerts. Maybe I can talk Leo into going with me. What little of a social life I do have in Tallahassee involves going to clubs with friends to listen to live music.

  Mmm. That’d be fun.

  Except Leo’s likely not single, despite my feelings about it. How could a hunk like him possibly be single? How could I be that lucky?

  Besides, I probably used up the bulk of my luck landing this job in the first place. Maybe it’d be best not to press it any farther than I already have.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, I don’t oversleep, but during my morning shower I lose track of time when I end up jerking off to thoughts of Leo Cruz.

  Mmm.

  I can’t help it. My dreams were filled with all sorts of dark and dirty scenarios. I’ve always had a healthy libido, but it’s been kicked into overdrive by the man. I awoke not just with a morning woody, but with a screaming erection I knew would only fully go away if I rubbed one out. I didn’t want to spend the morning struggling not to embarrass myself.

  Except when I open my room door for Leo at 7:55, I’m still running around and trying to get ready, all while cursing myself for looking like an immature and incompetent idiot. I’m certain my face is red for the man standing right there now.

  Leo graciously takes pity on me, and something about the playful smirk he’s wearing as he waits leads me to think maybe he suspects exactly what I was doing in the shower only a few minutes earlier.

  How I pictured myself on my knees in front of him and—

  Shit. I really need to get my head in the game and stop this bullshit. I can fuck around at night when I’m back here, but I need to keep this professional and focus on my work.

  Over the whirlwind of the next two weeks, the more time I spend with Leo and the better I get to know him…

  I realize I have a problem.

  A serious fucking problem.

  I’ve never been in love before. Maybe this is nothing more than stupid infatuation on my part, but damned if I don’t feel like I could fall hard for Leo and gladly shred my V-card without a second thought. I don’t even care about the age difference—that’s irrelevant to me.

  It feels like we’ve been dancing around this issue, too.

  This issue of us.

  He isn’t shutting me down, and I know I’m not clueless enough to misinterpret what’s going on between us as flirting. Especially on his part.

  It’s exactly two weeks since I’ve arrived in DC, and that Thursday night, Leo and I are having a late dinner and drinks at the bar in my hotel. It’s been a long damn day, but I savor this opportunity to be alone with him.

  Part of me gets the distinct feeling there’s something going on between him and Elliot Woodley. They have these secret head nods they give each other. Very subtle, but I notice, especially after I realized it and started paying attention. But then we’ll be working together, and I’ll catch Leo watching me in a way that makes my own cock hard, and I’m convinced Leo’s really into me.

  I also suspect there’s something going on between President-elect Samuels, her husband, and Kevin Markos. If forced to guess, I’d be willing to bet they’re involved with each other. Except they’re all adults, and that’s none of my business.

  Meanwhile, here I am with a head full of fantasies—including some really kinky shit that might be a total turn-off to Leo—and for the first time in my life, I’m feeling pretty damned eager to start checking them off my sexual bucket list.

  Maybe it’s the martini giving me extra courage, but I find myself taking a chance before I second-guess myself and chicken out. “So, is there some sort of big boss fight I have to win to level up personally with Leo Cruz?”

  He glances around before dropping his voice. “It’s complicated. Not impossibly so. That complication is mostly on my end.”

  I’m…stunned. Yay, he hasn’t shot me down!

  “You need permission?” Yes, I’m a smartass, but I’m also nervous as fricking hell.

  “I have permission. I also need to be cautious.” He props his elbow on the table. It looks like he’s bracing his chin on his hand. But the way his fingers cover his mouth, combined with the way he’s looking around and how he drops his voice to a whisper, I realize he’s being overly cautious about making sure no one can tell what he’s saying from a distance. “I could take you upstairs right now and fuck your brains out and not be violating any trusts, if I thought that’d be a good idea tonight.”

  Fuuuuuck.

  “Oh.” I am so out of my league it’s not even funny.

  Doesn’t mean I’m going to turn away from this.

  “But we need to have private discussions about that first. May I cook you dinner tomorrow night?” I eagerly nod and a sexy, evil smile curls those handsome lips. “I’m not looking for a quick fuck. Tomorrow night is just dinner, so we can talk. You might not be so eager to level up with me once you get to know me better.”

  I take a sip of my martini to buy me a moment as I struggle to keep my hand from trembling. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Here’s something for you to chew on. Hypothetically, what if you can never talk to anyone about
a goodly chunk of your personal life?”

  I’m not sure where he’s going with this. “I can keep a secret.”

  “This isn’t only about secrets. This is about lives. This is about you being close, in many ways, to the woman who will have access to our nation’s nuclear arsenal. And you’ll have to make a decision about staying here in DC or returning to Florida.”

  Staying here is something that’s already crossed my mind during my frequent late-night wank sessions. That if miracles did happen, and hunky Leo Cruz happened to be into me, it would mean moving here permanently.

  But to have him actually say that catches me off-guard because I wonder how much I’ve been on his mind. “Staying here?”

  “There will be a lot of positions to staff once she takes office. That’s not a quid pro quo, either. If you want to stay in DC and don’t want a relationship with me, I’d still see about finding you a job.”

  “I…I honestly hadn’t thought quite that far ahead.” I mean I had but, again, I wasn’t certain he was into me.

  He drops his hand and reaches for his fork, his tone returning to normal. “That’s why I want to cook dinner for you tomorrow.” He smiles. “Because I don’t play those kinds of games.”

  I barely process the rest of dinner. My mind’s stuck on one thought—Leo really is into me.

  When we finish, he picks up the check and refuses to let me chip in. Of course I don’t refuse when he offers to walk me up to my room.

  I get the feeling he might not let me refuse, even if I wanted to.

  Not because he’s being an asshole, but like he’s…protective? I get the distinct impression that’s not simply because he used to be Secret Service. It’s like he’s already staked a claim on me and it’s only a matter of time before he somehow marks me as his.

  Or, maybe I’ve read too many romance books.

  All the way up in the elevator, I summon my courage. I usually don’t have any trouble with that, but this is completely foreign territory to me.

  And Leo is unlike any man I’ve ever met before.

  I unlock my door, open it, and turn to him. “In case you weren’t sure, I am interested. I asked you. I don’t consider this sexual harassment or anything, if that’s a worry. I’d tell you if I thought it was. If I step over a line with you, tell me.”

  The casual way he lounges against the door frame nearly does me in. “If you had, I already would have reeled you in. Protect my trust, and never lie to me. It’s that easy.”

  “Not that easy. It’s ‘complicated.’ You said so.”

  He studies me. “A producer from FNB offers you a hundred grand, cash, to wear a wire and carry a hidden camera. What do you tell them?”

  “What?”

  “You’ll get outright offers. You’ll get people suddenly eager to be your friend, and you’ll have no clue why. Asking you little questions here and there, wanting favors. Being with me means you can never trust others. Not even people you’ve known for years. Everyone’s suspect.”

  Yikes. I hadn’t considered that. “What about trusting you?”

  “Besides me, and besides people I tell you that you can trust. There are lives at stake, and considering she’s going to be Commander in Chief, that’s not an exaggeration.”

  That’s when it all hits me, what he means.

  “Aaannnnd there it is,” he says, sounding amused.

  I study him. “It sounds like a very lonely life.”

  Something dark flashes through in his brown eyes before he immediately schools his expression, like it’s force of habit. “It is. I also wouldn’t blame you if you run the other direction. But another hypothetical for you. You can’t tell people you’re dating the ‘president’s body man’ unless it’s someone I’ve told you is safe. There will be security clearance forms to think about, and you can’t lie on them. That’s why we need to talk. About a lot of things. Because if we’re going to date, it’s not a one-time fling for me. If you’re looking for no-strings sex, I’m sorry, that’s not me, no matter how much I’m attracted to you.”

  Leo is as lonely as I am—I see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. He’s in pain in a different way than I am. I drop my voice to a whisper. “I know what loneliness looks like. I see it every time I look in the mirror.” I reach up and cup his cheek. “Maybe we can be a little less lonely together, Leo.” When my thumb brushes over his lips he kisses it while staring into my eyes.

  I have a feeling if I said the word, even though he indicated he wants to take this slow, maybe he’d fuck me right now, on my bed, without hesitation.

  I’ve never felt so naive in my dang life. Especially when he takes my hand in his and then kisses it, his gaze focused on mine.

  There’s heat and passion and hunger darkly painted across his face, and I’ve never felt so turned on and terrified, all at the same time.

  “I’ll text you my address. Any food allergies?”

  “No allergies. As far as the menu goes, I trust you. Nothing thermonuclear hot. Can I bring anything?”

  “Yourself, and a bottle of wine. Your choice what kind.” He kisses my hand again, gently squeezes, and then releases it.

  I’m already missing his touch.

  “Talking.” Not sure if he’s reminding me or himself.

  Maybe both.

  I nod. “Talking. We do need to…talk.” Heat fills my cheeks again. Is he going to be turned off when he realizes I’m a damn virgin and have…standards?

  I mean, okay, yes, if he asked me, I’d hop into bed with him right now.

  He takes a step back. “Lock the door and put the security bar in place. I’ll pick you up at seven in the morning.”

  “I know trust has to be earned. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to earn yours. You’ve already earned mine.”

  “How do you know I’m someone you can trust? How do you know I’m not a very bad man?”

  If only he knew the fantasies rolling through my head. “How do you know I’m not?” I ease the door shut and press my eye to the viewfinder to watch him. He’s wearing a sexy, satisfied smile as he turns and I watch that perfect ass of his stroll down the hall toward the elevator.

  Fuuuuck.

  I rip off my clothes, jump into the shower, and immediately stroke one out. Then I stand there under the spray, hugging myself and wishing I was braver.

  Maybe it was stupid of me to wait. There were any number of guys in high school and college who I could’ve crossed that bridge with.

  But Mimi was smart. She didn’t shy away from having the talk with me when I was younger. She let me know it was okay to be proud of who I was, of my sexuality, and that I had the right to be choosy. When I started high school, she bought me a couple of sex toys when I started asking more questions. She showed me how to put on a rubber correctly—on a toy, thank you very much.

  Ew. Pervs.

  Her biggest fear was that I wouldn’t be careful and I’d jump into a relationship that was wrong for me, only to get my heart broken and to regret letting hormones override my common sense.

  Or, worse, I’d somehow end up having unsafe sex, or getting myself into a position where I’d fall victim to violence.

  She wasn’t a prude, either. It wasn’t that she didn’t want me to have any sex, she just wanted me to be smart and safe about it.

  I think that played a big role in me holding out this long. The guys I dated just didn’t… I don’t know how to explain it. It wasn’t the lack of a physical attraction, but I didn’t feel into them enough to give them me.

  Sex wasn’t “forbidden” so I didn’t understand the big deal. I could masturbate if I was horny, but I wanted a deeper physical and emotional connection if I was going to be vulnerable enough to show someone what lay under my mask.

  Just like I wasn’t into sneaking alcohol. If I wanted to drink a little wine at dinner, I simply asked. Mimi also let me have a few sips of champagne at New Year’s. I was always allowed to do things like that as long as I was honest with her
. Her theory was, after her years of experience investigating crimes against children, that she’d rather me know she was a safe resource and have me try stuff like that with her, instead of getting into trouble somewhere else.

  Obviously, I never tried drugs. I mean, duh.

  The one time I tried cigarettes—ugh. I had talked to Mimi about it in high school. One day, when I came home from school, I found she’d bought a pack and a lighter. She said if I was really curious to go ahead and try them there, with her.

  I made it through one and a half puffs, and then nearly threw the lit cigarette at her in my attempt to get it out of my hand. She laughed and tossed the brand-new pack away. I literally felt sick for two days.

  To this day, I still don’t understand how people can smoke those nasty things.

  In retrospect, I realize she probably researched and found the nastiest-tasting cigarettes she could, but the lesson was embedded in my brain. I still struggle not to gag every time I smell cigarette smoke. If a guy is a smoker, it’s a nonstarter for me.

  I’m…trainable.

  Which is what I hope Leo will want to do with me.

  Train me, that is. He strikes me as an in-charge kind of guy.

  A Domly kind of guy.

  A man capable of being very, very bad in extremely good ways.

  Chapter Nine

  That night, I end up rubbing out another orgasm so I can get to sleep. Because my dreams are once again filled with sexy images of Leo, I start the morning jerking off in the shower.

  #hotmess

  Not even kidding.

  I make sure I’m ready for him when he knocks on my hotel door at 6:55 the next morning. He’s always exactly five minutes early in a way that gives me the impression he usually arrives even earlier and takes his time making his way up to my room.

  I mean, I’m guessing. Like with everything else involving Leo Cruz, it’s my gut instinct.

  I also realize I like it when he picks me up in the morning.

  It’s something I’ve quickly found myself looking forward to most mornings. There have been a few days he couldn’t come get me first, because of the president-elect’s schedule. Even then, Leo would text me good morning and ask me to text him when I made it safely to the office. One morning, when it was cold and raining, he had a Secret Service agent pick me up and drive me.