If It Flies (Market Garden, #3)(27)

Do I get a word in this?”

He expected an angry reaction, a biting response, but Nick just shifted his weight and kept his eyes down. “I don’t want to make things worse.”

“Leaving will make things worse.”

Nick’s eyes flicked up to meet his. “So will staying.”

“How?” Spencer swallowed hard. “I’m . . . kind of lost here.”

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Sighing, Nick ran a hand through his hair. Then he took a stiff, hesitant step towards the bed, and finally sat on its very edge, his leather trousers creaking with the slow movement and the settling of his weight. Spencer wanted to reach for him, if only to make some contact and be sure Nick was really still here, but he didn’t move.

“This is a business transaction.” Icicles hung off every word. “It’s just supposed to be . . .”

“Just sex.”

A stiff shrug. “More or less. Some pain play, dominance . . .”

He waved a hand sharply. “Whatever. Just that. There are lines we can’t cross.”

“Are you saying we’re in danger of crossing those lines?”

Nick met his eyes. Neither of them needed to add the “. . . or have we already?”

Spencer drew a shuddering breath. “I like you, Nick.

I really do. I . . . guess I trust you so much that it’s kind of difficult not to like you.”

Nick shook his head. “That’s the point. You don’t have to be in control. I do.”

Oh. Oh.

“It’s okay. I—I can forget that happened. We just got carried away.” And it had felt so damn nice. “An accident, though you’re an amazing kisser. I’m good with that. If you want, you can kiss me. We just change the rules.”

Nick looked at him like he was a complete babbling idiot.

Maybe he was. But damn, it had felt nice, and now that he knew Nick had lost control, even in this simple, everyday gesture that still felt more intimate than all the other things they’d done, it thrilled him to his toes. But maybe that was just ego. The john who got an enormous kick out of the whore 89

climaxing. Some things couldn’t be faked, and maybe for Nick that was kissing. Of all things.

Nick tapped his temple. “In here, I know it happened.”

His Adam’s apple jumped. “And . . . why.”

Spencer chewed his lip. “Well, that makes one of us.”

Closing his eyes, Nick blew out a sharp breath. “Don’t make me spell anything out, Spencer. Not tonight.”

It was bizarre to hear Nick pleading. Even at the height of pre-climax tension, he gave orders. Any question he asked, he damn sure knew the answer to already. He didn’t beg. He didn’t plead. He just bloody didn’t.

So this? Spencer had no idea how to process this.

“I need to go.” The firmness had returned to Nick’s voice, but he stood as slowly as he’d sat down. “We’ll talk more.

Next week.”

At least that allowed Spencer to breathe a little easier. This wasn’t a slamming door, just an intermission. There would be a next week.

He stood too. “I guess we should settle up. For this evening.”

Nick chewed the inside of his cheek, shook his head.

“We’ll work it out when I come back. When we both have clearer heads.” He met Spencer’s eyes again. “You won’t be paying full price for tonight, I just . . . I don’t know how much . . .”

“I’ll pay you in full for tonight.” Spencer picked up his wallet off the dresser and slid the notes free. As he held them out to Nick, he added, “If you want to discount it, we can work that out when you come back.”

Nick eyed the money, then Spencer. With a sigh that could have been relief, resignation, defeat, or God knew what, he took the cash, and it was probably no accident that their 90

fingers didn’t brush. He slid the notes into his back pocket and put on his shirt.

“So, next week.” He cleared his throat as he draped his jacket over his arm. “Same time.”

Spencer nodded. “Same bat time, same bat channel.”

Nick allowed himself a quiet laugh, which relaxed Spencer a little more. Maybe he was just spooked. Couldn’t think on his feet right now. Needed to collect his thoughts in private before the two of them talked it over.

And with an equally quiet “I’ll see you,” Nick left.

Leaving Spencer to ponder, for the next six days, how something that had felt so good could hurt either of them.

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Chapter


eighT


on’t be able to make it tonight, the text said. And a Wsecond text, just a few minutes later: Heading with a friend to Spain. Realised I haven’t had a holiday in years.

With a friend?

Spencer’s stomach clenched, and he wished he’d left the phone at his desk rather than taken it with him to lunch.

Nick had never skipped out, always been on time, reliable and steady like few other people in Spencer’s life.

Though it figured. Getting trashed in Spain with a friend was one of those things young guys did, and maybe Nick figured that letting his hair down, getting piss drunk and possibly laid— don’t think about that part—was the best way to relax. Besides, Spain was cheap at the moment, and out of season, too.