If It Flies (Market Garden, #3)(18)

Damn, he really hoped for some conversation next

time. He couldn’t draw a bead on Nick at al , couldn’t put him in a box, didn’t know anything about him, only that he topped like a demon, and that he was probably a sadist of some description. Nick had clearly enjoyed everything he’d done to Spencer. Seemed to, anyway. That, or he’d given the performance of his life.

Spencer finished his roast beef sandwich and ordered another coffee. Then he figured he’d better return to his reverse merger. He had to earn the money first that would allow him to feel those things again, that abandon and the pleasure edged with pain. A worthwhile reason to head back into the office and chew his way through a cubic metre of files.

The afternoon crawled by. So did Tuesday. Wednesday.

Thursday. It was paperwork, phone calls, meetings, headaches, a liquid lunch or two with Percy, and sheer mental overload.

This merger would be completed soon, he hoped, though he knew damn well “soon” in the corporate world could be at the other end of a geological age. Especially with public markets as volatile as they were. All it took was one of many parties to suddenly get cold feet.

He stayed late every night and came in early every morning, spent so many hours face down in the sea of documentation and reports and bullshit that the only way he 58

could tell a dream from reality was whether Nick was sitting in the chair opposite his desk or not.

In dreams, Nick spurred Spencer on with sharp sighs, leather creaking every time he crossed and recrossed his legs or folded his arms, and, when Spencer really slowed down, black-painted nails drumming emphatically on the wooden armrest. In reality, he was as invisible as the delicious damage he’d done to Spencer’s body, but undeniably there. Goose bumps on the back of Spencer’s neck. A paper sliding off the desk like some little shit had come along and knocked it off.

The carpet under Spencer’s knees when he knelt to pick up a pen that had rolled under his desk.

Nick had never set foot in Spencer’s office, but he haunted it like he’d died here. If Spencer ever spent more than five waking minutes in his house, he’d probably have felt Nick there too. And maybe he did, but he was too tired to care.

Finally, Friday showed up. Though he felt a little guilty about it—okay, really guilty—he cut out early. He needed a few hours between the workplace beating and the recreational one.Around five forty-five, his cell phone chimed to life. At first, he thought it was Nick cal ing to cancel— don’t you dare, f*cker, I will pay you double if I have to—but it was Percy’s name on the caller ID.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, you want to meet me at Market Garden tonight?”

Percy’s smirk came through loud and clear. “Sample the rest of the merchandise?”

“Actually, I think I’m just going to stay home tonight.” He glanced at the clock, and begged it to move a little faster. A lot faster. Just be midnight, for f*ck’s sake! “It’s been a long week.”

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“Yeah, exactly,” Percy said. “Good time to go have a few drinks and let some trained hands take care of all the tension, you know? It did you good, Spence. You know it did.”

“It did.” Spencer nodded once for no one’s benefit but his own. “But I just don’t have any energy tonight. Why don’t you tell me on Monday if you find one you think is my type? Then maybe I’ll give him a try next weekend.”

Liar, liar . . .

Percy sighed heavily. “All right. All right. Well, if you reconsider, you know where the place is.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

A quiet chuckle came down the line. “Should I say hello to Nick for you?”

Spencer’s shoulders tensed, but there was no way he’d let Percy know that his question had been much too close for comfort. “Sure. If he’s there, why not.” There wasn’t anything wrong about my voice just now, was there? “Have a great evening. I’m just going to hit the sack.”

Percy thankfully left him alone. Man, when had their relationship started to feel like a pain in the arse, like an intrusion into his personal space?

Ever since you decided to have some personal space, dumbarse.

Spencer slipped his phone into his pocket, then realised he and Nick hadn’t agreed on a meeting place. Here, at his house? Probably. He remembered Nick saying something about a bag of tricks. That would require space. Privacy.

And just how much could they do during, what, seven, eight hours? Realistically, more like two hours and sleep and maybe a repeat. But even one f*ck would do him more good than just about anything else had recently.

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Sitting in the kitchen, he ate a salad he’d bought at one of the places around work, and washed it down with a glass of red that took the edge off a bit. Then had a long soak in the tub, grooming himself carefully. Shaved, trimmed, polished, resisted the urge to jerk off to relax. He’d enjoy Nick taking the remaining edges off for him.

He wrapped himself in a large bathrobe and lay down for a while on the bed. Just to close his eyes and chill after the long hot bath.

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Chapter


siX


he doorbell prodded him out of darkness, and the Oh T shit! in his mind jerked him into complete awareness.

The DVD player said 12:05. After midnight. Right after midnight.