If It Fornicates (Market Garden, #4)(6)

Spencer nodded. “But sooner or later, something’s going to have to give, and I just think we ought to be aware of that.”

“Right,” Nick said with a nod. “As it stands right now, I don’t want to change a thing.” Especially this. Please, not this.

“Neither do I.” Spencer paused, still cradling his wineglass, and smiled a little. “I want to get rid of the stress, not the stress relief.” He winked, and laughed softly, which settled some of that fluttery feeling in Nick’s chest.

Nick managed a soft laugh himself. “I don’t want to change this either. We’ll . . . we’ll figure everything out.”

“I know. I just want to make sure it’s all out on the table. So we can figure it out together.”

“Agreed,” Nick said quietly. “And while we’re putting everything out on the table, I should mention that at times, I’ll have a bad day. Normally, I don’t really mingle right after a night like that. I need space when things go wrong. To regroup. It’s not to get away from you, though.”

Spencer nodded again. “Understood. That can happen in my job, too. And it doesn’t help that when things get intense in the office, I might not even come home. Hell, I have slept in my office some weekends.”

“I’ve heard stories like that. That’s fine. We both have demanding jobs.” Spencer traced the foot of his wineglass with a fingernail. “There’s no reason why this shouldn’t work, though. We manage . . . sexually.”

Not just manage. Sexually, they were hand in glove, Spencer so natural as his sub that Nick’s pulse sped up just thinking about that. Normal life, though? That was something entirely different.

“Well.” Nick drained his wineglass—there wasn’t much left by this point—and set it back on the table. “All we can do is take it one day at a time.”

A grin played at Spencer’s lips. “And the nights?”

Nick returned the grin. “If they ain’t broke . . .”





They finished eating, and Spencer cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen, insisting that Nick not lift a finger. He seemed amused when Nick hoisted himself onto the counter, perching there while Spencer did the scrubbing and drying, and three times, Nick caught him stealing a glance at the front of his trousers. All the more reason to sit up there, Nick decided.

But stealing glances and exchanging comments over domestic chores didn’t exactly segue into the way Nick and Spencer had spent most of their time together since the first night Spencer had hired him. Before long, they were hovering in the kitchen. Nick was still sitting on the counter, boots crossed at the ankles and hands resting on the edge, and Spencer was drumming his fingers beside the sink. They were one “So . . . now what?” away from shit getting awkward.

“So . . .” Nick tapped his fingertips on the counter’s edge. “You’re off for a few days. Maybe I’ll take Monday off too.”

Spencer’s eyebrows jumped. “Really?”

“We could, um, spend the day together.” Nick thought he was going to choke on the words, and he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he’d suggested they move in together in the morning and fill out civil partnership paperwork over lunch. He cleared his throat. “You know, have a day without our jobs killing us.”

Spencer smiled. “I like that idea.”

Nick nodded, but said nothing. He’d run it by Market Garden’s owner tomorrow night, and that thought was like a ball of lead in his gut. Not because he thought he’d be turned down—Frank was usually telling him he needed to take time off—but because of the reminder of where he’d be tomorrow night versus where he was now. Of his job. Fuck.

He cleared his throat again. “So what about tonight?”

Spencer swallowed. “Yes, tonight.” He locked eyes with Nick, and there it was again: that submissive look and its unspoken question.

Nick’s heart beat a little faster. Exhausted as he was, that look in Spencer’s eyes couldn’t not affect him. It woke up the lethargic Dom in him, brought his need for Spencer and Spencer’s submission to the surface.

He lifted himself off the counter and landed on his feet. One step towards Spencer, and the beautiful submissiveness was suddenly there in spades. In Spencer’s eyes, in the way his posture relaxed and his shoulders lowered slightly. He was taller and broader than Nick, but when the power shift kicked in, the physical difference in size seemed to lessen. Ceased to matter.

Nick put his hand on Spencer’s face, resisting the shiver when Spencer pressed against his palm. “When you invited me over tonight,” he said, deliberately whispering so Spencer had to strain to hear, “was it just for dinner? Or did you want . . . something more?”

“I want everything you give me, Nick. Anything at all.”

Oh God, talk about sparks flying. Almost four months in, it still felt like they’d barely scratched the surface. There was so much that Nick wanted to give him, show him, make him do. Ever since he’d become aware just how perfect Spencer was, he’d felt oddly possessive of him. He’d been only too aware that he didn’t want Spencer ruined by anybody else—wanted to keep his training between just the two of them, to make sure it was done right.

“What about moving this to the bedroom?” Nick asked.