On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)(27)

Blake gulped.

Jason’s eyebrows quirked, and he paused, the sleeves still hanging onto his wrists. “You were planning to take a shower, yes?”

“Right. Right.” Blake gave him a quick down-up. Tired as he was, a shower next to this gorgeous blond was definitely what the doctor ordered. He started unbuttoning his own shirt. “We’ll have to play everything after by ear. Maybe I’m getting too old to be flying back and forth like this.”

“Too old?” Jason laughed. “Oh, I don’t think so.” He draped his jacket across the footboard and started on his shirt. “Flying is inhumane no matter how old you are. Especially across a bloody ocean.”

“Yeah, it’s—” Something shiny caught his eye, and he gave Jason’s wrist a double take. “Those are my cuff links, aren’t they?”

“No.” Jason continued unbuttoning his shirt. “They were your cuff links. I do believe they’re mine free and clear, though.” He flashed a grin. “After all, I did earn them.”

Oh yes. Yes, you did.

Maybe it was ridiculous, but the thought that Jason even remembered which trophy came from which client warmed him. That was ridiculous—sales people had databases that helped them remember birthdays and anniversaries and the names of children and spouses, so why wouldn’t a rentboy have similar tools?

He undressed, mostly watching Jason.

Jason caught him, and tilted his head. “What?”

“Just appreciating a pro.”

Jason laughed. “Go and appreciate the shower. You look like you need it.” The last two words again contained a double meaning.

Blake shed his socks and boxers and went into the bathroom to start the shower, then once the water was running reliably hot, stepped inside.

Jason joined him a few moments later, standing behind him. He kissed the back of Blake’s neck, then the side of his throat, and his hands ran along Blake’s arms and shoulders. Sensual, but soothing. The closest thing to a boyfriend’s “welcome back, I missed you”—so close in fact that Blake decided to go with the illusion. He paid top dollar for the illusion, so he should enjoy it for what it pretended to be. Now if he could just stay awake . . .

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” Jason’s voice was a mere whisper near his ear.

“Yeah. I think I’m crashing.”

“How fast?”

Blake turned around and smiled. “Hot shower might have been a bad idea.”

“Never a bad idea.” Jason picked up a handful of the hotel shower gel and began washing Blake, who had to do nothing but accept the care, touches, even tenderness, nearly drifting off where he stood as the tension he’d been holding fled wherever Jason touched him.

Finally, Jason stepped out of the shower, quickly toweled himself down and picked up the hotel bathrobe. He switched the water off and wrapped Blake in the bathrobe, rubbing the terry cloth to help dry him.

When he wasn’t dripping anymore, Blake stepped out and dried his face and hair on a towel. “So much for shower sex.”

Jason grinned. “It’s not the last shower you’ll take in the UK.”

“Unlikely.” Blake went to the bedroom, where Jason pulled back the covers for him. He sat on the mattress. “What about this: I’ll grab a couple hours of sleep and you could go shopping or something? There’s lots of nice expensive shops around.”

Amusement flickered across Jason’s features. “I know.”

“And we could go to an early dinner later? When I’m coherent and more of a match for you?”

Jason lifted an eyebrow. “Poor, flight-weary Colonial. If you need help, I could make sure you fall asleep pretty much immediately.” His tongue flicked over his bottom lip.

“If I had the energy, I’d take you up on that without question.”

“I know.” Jason patted his arm. “Get some sleep. I’ll earn my keep when you’re awake.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Blake lifted his legs and swung them up on the bed. Just being warm, being surrounded by mattress and pillow, being horizontal—it was all rapidly short-circuiting what few systems were still running. Normally he managed to cling on until his normal bedtime and make the switch to UK time as smooth as he could, but lack of sleep was seriously catching up with him now, like that rolling boulder in Indiana Jones. “Sorry to be such a—”

“Don’t be.” Jason pulled the blanket up to Blake’s chest. “Sleep. I need you back to your old form. You’re more fun that way.”

Blake yawned. “Trying.”

Jason got dressed again, clearly aware that Blake was watching him, but he didn’t put on a show. It all seemed pretty normal, and it occurred to Blake’s dazed mind that having Jason around really felt fairly normal. Maybe the texting and emailing had made all the difference, but Jason gave him that strange feeling that they’d known each other for longer than was actually the case.

Before long, he’d drifted off.

When he awoke, he was still tired, but his brain felt less sore already. He sat up to rub his face, and then reached for the watch on his nightstand. Almost exactly three hours since he’d collapsed in bed.

Only then did he realize Jason was sitting on a chair facing the bed, focused on something on his phone. “Morning. Er, afternoon. Whatever.”