would follow him anywhere. I would give him everything.
“No more secrets,” he promised, pulling away just enough to press his thumb against my lower lip. “No more dirty little secrets.”
“Well,” I said, nipping at the pad of his thumb. “Let’s keep the dirty part. Sir.”
“Always,” growled James, and then with another ferocious kiss, he swept me up into his arms.
And in front of the television camera and the gathering crowd, the prime minister of the United Kingdom carried me off into the gray-pink London sunset, kissing me the entire way.
EPILOGUE
James
“You’re being a baby,” Tally said, a hint of smug satisfaction in his voice as if the idea of my immaturity amused him.
I snorted. “Hardly. I’m forty-three years old, nearly twenty years your senior. You should respect your elders, boy.”
Tally grinned impishly in my periphery as I maneuvered my Aston Martin around the narrow, curving lanes in Wiltshire leading to Ullswater Cottage. We were on our way to visit my father and his wife for the first time since #gaygate, and understandably, I was nervous.
Though, I was unequivocally not being a baby about it.
“Maybe you should remind me later just how much respect you deserve,” my boyfriend purred as his hand found my thigh and trailed up the length of it to squeeze my cock.
“You’re trying to distract me with sex,” I noted coolly.
He gave my dick another squeeze and then a nice pat, pat, pat as if it was a beloved animal. “Yes. I rather think it’s working from the feel of you hardening in my hand.”
“Do you want to get into an accident?” I asked, tugging his hand away from my growing erection. “You know I can’t think of anything but you at the best of times, and I’m trying to get us to Ullswater Cottage safely.”
“So that you can officially come out to your father.”
I slanted him a grumpy look, but it was impossible to stay cross when I caught sight of his beautiful smile.
He had been smiling like that every day for the past month. Ever since the scandal broke, and our love came tumbling out of the closet into the open. It wasn’t easy, the fallout. Tally was called a slut in the press more times than I could count, though he seemed to find it amusing, especially when he was dubbed the Yoko Ono of politics. People in my own party refused to deal with me, waiting out my time in office silently, or, bitterly, making their homophobic sentiments known in a myriad of creative ways.
It was difficult, but then, as Mona had rightly pointed out, anything worth having was.
And this past month had only succeeded in proving that risking everything for Tally was not only the right choice, but the only choice for me.
I loved him desperately. Almost feverishly.
We simply couldn’t get enough of each other.
The sex, of course, because he was a limber, gorgeous youth with a rabid sex drive and a wonderfully kinky imagination, and I was a man who had just discovered the joys of the male body.
But more.
It was the way he shuffled out of bed in the morning, blurry-eyed, hair a tousled mess of feathered curls around his sleep-creased face. He took a full hour to recover his usual spirit, sitting quietly, curled up in a chair with his fuzzy pajama-clad legs held to his chest while I plied him with his tea and toast.
It was the way he touched me always. Little morsels of affection gifted throughout the day with the press of his hand to my back, a kiss to my cheek, fingers trailing down my arm so he could fit his lean fingers between my own.
It was the way he said my name. James. As if I was his king, his Lord and God.
It was the way he made me feel bigger than I ever had before, even as Prime Minister, the head of Her Majesty’s government. I felt taller, grander, more capable with Tally because his belief in me was so utterly absolute.
“I love you,” I said suddenly, almost clumsily because the shock of it still robbed me of breath most times.
Tally patted my thigh again as if calming an agitated horse. “I know. It’s practically impossible to feel any other way about me. I’m incredibly lovable.”
“And ridiculous,” I retorted, shooting a glance at his soft angora sweater in a vivid shade of turquoise.
“All the best things are,” he said breezily, then laughed when we caught sight of the two people waiting for us in