Page 23 of Enemy of My Enemy
Ethan’s laptop was open on the bed, the Washington Eagle article up and live on the website. Sweat-soaked workout clothes lay in a heap on the floor, and in the bathroom, the shower was running.
Jack plopped down at the foot of the bed. His eyes traveled over the article, picking out the worst of the worst.
Ethan, according to the article, was a man void of morals, a wanton gay manslut with an insatiable sexual appetite. After conquering nearly all of Washington DC, he’d seduced Jack. Salacious detail was paid to Ethan’s preferred sex acts, given to the reporter by former lovers, all eager for their moment in the spotlight. One was certain that Jack loved to be pounded through the mattress, since that was, apparently, Ethan’s specialty, along with amazing rimjobs. That Jack must give great blowjobs since Ethan loved a good suck. Or how Jack must love to bottom, to satisfy Ethan’s inexhaustible appetite.
And Jack was the vapid, empty-headed president who had been taken by Ethan’s malicious, scandalous ways. Seduced and led astray. Under the influence of a sex-crazed homosexual. A president who spent more of his days getting bent over the Resolute desk than actually governing. Who let himself be led by the sexual perversions of his lead detail agent, and who also let Ethan participate in governing. A complete failure of a president and of a man, Jack apparently loved every minute of Ethan’s heady seduction, so much so that he moved this degenerate into the White House.
Questions raged from the article. Who was Ethan? Who had access to the president? What kind of moral depravity had descended over the White House? How could the American people trust their leader?
The shower stopped. A glass door creaked open and then slammed shut. The sound of Ethan toweling off came from the shut door.
Jack waited.
Ethan froze when he padded back into the bedroom, towel wrapped tight around his waist and beads of water dripping from the ends of his hair. A scar crossed over his abdomen, just to the left of his belly button.
Jack watched Ethan’s chest tighten, watched him inhale and hold his breath.
“Did you read it?”
Ethan nodded.
“The White House does not comment on the first family’s personal lives or on malicious tabloid trash. Or pieces of salacious fantasy fiction.” Jack recited the line he and Pete had hammered out, arguing back and forth for hours. Jack refused to discuss their relationship. Pete refused to let the article pass without a response. Back and forth, for hours.
Ethan looked down, but not before Jack caught a waver of uncertainty in his steely gaze. “Jack—”
Silent, Jack waited. Ethan could take his time thinking through the right way to say something sometimes, and Jack had learned to be patient rather than push him too hard.
A deep swallow, and then Ethan finally spoke. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “Jack, I’m sorry. For everything. For… fucking up your presidency. For all of that.” He waved toward his laptop and the article. “I never thought about how everything I’ve done could hurt you. Fuck… What they say about you. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Ethan, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing.”
“I’m fucking everyth—”
“I don’t care about the media.” Jack interrupted Ethan’s continued litany of his perceived sins. “I don’t care, Ethan. I don’t care about the papers, about the news channels. I don’t care about the columnists. I’ve spent my whole political career getting ripped apart by the press for one thing or the other. I’musedto it. I. Don’t. Care.” Sighing, Jack’s shoulders slumped, and he held out one hand toward Ethan. “I love you. And whatever garbage they want to print has no impact what I think or how I feel. If this was an attempt to make me doubt you, or shake my confidence in you, they failed.”
At that, Ethan looked up, finally meeting Jack’s gaze with something other than wariness.
Those were brave words. Jack’s belly button clenched. “Butyou’re notused to this.Ishould be the one apologizing. You never asked for this mess. You never asked for any of this.” He gestured around the room, trying to encompass the White House and the political circus their lives had become. “You had a life, a normal, happy, full life. And then I barged in, and I pushed and I pushed, and—” Jack broke off with a quiet exhale.
He looked down. Swallowed.
Their bed had been remade, the Navy stewards bustling through and remaking their world each day, making everything around them look picture-perfect. A snapshot of pristine peace, as if their rooms could somehow imbue that tranquility into their lives. Jack’s eyes caught on a loose thread, ivory cotton sticking out awry. Reaching out, he tried to smooth the thread back. It popped up.
All day, he’d tried to smooth everything over, from the moment they’d awoken. Trying to make things perfect. And now, in the dead of night, just one day into their new lives—
Snippets of the article replayed in his mind, sentences that wouldn’t let go of his worries. “Are you—” His throat clenched. He tried again, this time looking up and finding Ethan’s dark gaze. “Is this what you want? Us? Here?”
Ethan padded across their bedroom to Jack’s side. He reached for Jack. Jack pressed a lingering kiss to Ethan’s knuckles and then laid his cheek across the back of his hand.
“Jack—” Ethan’s voice broke off. His other hand rose, fingers sliding through Jack’s hair. “I love you so fucking much. It gets hard to breathe sometimes when I think about you.”
Jack stood, and Ethan’s hand dragged across his cheek, cupping his face when they were facing each other. Jack mirrored Ethan, holding his face with one hand as their breaths mingled.
“I’m sorry,” Ethan breathed. “I’m so sorry—”
“Shhh.” Jack nosed at Ethan’s chin, his stubble whispering over him. “I’msorry, Ethan. Sorry for all of this.”
“Most days I think I’m dreaming. I can’t believe this is really happening. I never thought, ever, that I’d love someone this much. Or that you could love me back when I fell for you.” As Ethan whispered, Jack’s lips found his, and he pressed slow kisses against his words. “I just don’t want you to be hurt because of me.”
