If It Flies (Market Garden, #3)(38)

125

Nick closed his eyes. “Oh . . . f*ck . . . ”

And Spencer lost it. His raw shoulders dug into the bed, and his eyes rolled back, and somehow he found Nick’s sweat-slicked arms and grabbed on, and hot semen landed on his chest as Nick whispered curses and . . . f*ck, f*ck, Spencer’s senses couldn’t take any more, couldn’t get enough, couldn’t take another damned second, please, please don’t stop . . .

Nick forced himself as deep as Spencer could take him, shuddered, and cursed one last time. Spencer blinked his eyes into focus just in time to see Nick in suspended animation, that frozen couple of seconds between release and col apse.

And then Nick exhaled. Let his head fall forwards. And slumped over Spencer.

So, Spencer thought idly, half-heartedly waving away the idea of sleep, that was what Nick looked like when he didn’t f*ck for money. Softer. Trusting. It felt like a privilege to see him like this. He closed his arms around Nick, felt him breathe heavily, chest pumping while he rested on top of Spencer.

Right now, holding him felt natural, right, like they belonged together like this, and the pain and the sex were really the same thing, each heightening the other.

Spencer kissed Nick’s temple, something he’d never done before, and relaxed for a few more minutes, shifting just enough to lower and stretch out his legs and for Nick to slip free. Nick disappeared briefly, likely taking care of the condom, and then returned.

After Nick cleaned them up, they lay in silence for a long time, Spencer idly stroking Nick’s shoulder with an open palm, somehow managing to stay awake. The pain in his back helped.

Eventually, he rolled to the side and set Nick carefully down next to him. Their legs were still tangled, and all Spencer did was pull the covers up to their hips.

126

More time passed while Spencer watched Nick rest, studying the veins on his lower arms, the faint lines of his now relaxed muscles—the same that had wielded the whip with so much precision and power for God knew how long.

Nick’s eyes fully opened. “What are you thinking?”

“Just wondered how you got so good with that?”

“The whip? Training. Several hours a week. If I couldn’t do all those circus tricks, I wouldn’t go anywhere near another human being with a whip. People lose eyes like that, or cut their own faces. Scars can be nice, but not by accident.”

Spencer shuddered. “Scars from that?”

“Oh yeah. If you time the crack when the whip hits the skin, you can end up with cuts. Can be very intense, but it’s more than you want at the moment. I’m guessing.”

Spencer inhaled deeply, but he was just too relaxed to freak out over the real danger of the whip, let alone question whether he could bear the pain.

Nick shifted beside him, and there was just a little bit of tension in his body now. He looked in Spencer’s eyes.

“Speaking of what you want at the moment . . .”

Spencer propped himself up on his elbow. “Yes?”

“When we’re here, like this, it’s easy to say we can make something work.” He slowly drew the tip of his tongue across his lower lip. “But when the sun comes up is when the rubber meets the road.”

“I know what I’m getting into.”

Nick’s slim eyebrow arched. “Do you?” He reached for Spencer’s face, and his touch was gentle and comforting.

Comfortable. Something Spencer could get used to in very short order. Nick swallowed. “It’s one thing to say now that you’re okay with dating someone like me. It’s another thing 127

entirely when we’re in the middle of dinner and my second phone rings.”

Spencer chewed the inside of his cheek. Dinner? With Nick? Like a real dinner instead of pre-sex takeaway? It was surreal to even think of them actually going through with this. He wanted it. God, he wanted it. But was Nick actually considering it?

“Spencer?”

He looked at Nick again. “Look, it’s not like we’re talking about moving in together. And I’ll admit, I wasn’t too sure about the idea of dating someone in your line of work, but the last two weeks have given me a lot of time to think.”

Nick inclined his head. “And . . .?”

“And I think I’d rather give it a try and see what happens than walk away.” He paused, struggling to keep looking into Nick’s beautiful, inquisitive eyes. “Maybe I don’t know what the hell we’ll be getting into, or if it’ll work in the long run, or anything. What I do know is that right now, tonight, being with you feels right. Being away from you . . . doesn’t.”

Nick lowered his gaze for a second. Meeting Spencer’s eyes again, he said, “So we’ll take it one day at a time.”

Days. Not just nights—Friday nights—anymore. Days.

“Yeah.” Spencer put his hand over Nick’s. “A day at a time.

We’ll see what happens.”

Nick was quiet for a moment, eyes unfocused and brow furrowed. Spencer’s heart beat as hard as it could in this lethargic, post-coital state, and he had to remind himself not to hold his breath while Nick sorted his thoughts.

Nick smiled.

He didn’t say a word. Neither did Spencer. Just a smile, and then he reached for Spencer.