On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)(3)

Blake paid, collected the drinks, and returned to the booth. Jason lounged the way Tristan often had—arm slung across the back of the bench, his face the very picture of ennui as he played on his phone. When Blake set the drinks down, Jason’s eyes flicked up, and the boredom evaporated. The hunter was back. Oh dear God, the hunter was definitely back.

“So, what are you into?” Jason took a sip from his mojito.

“Watching. Being watched. I’m generally versatile, depending on the mood and the partner.”

“Threesomes?”

“Well, depends on the mood and partners.” Blake tapped the base of his glass with two fingers. “I’m open to a lot of things as long as there’s power play involved.”

Jason grinned. “I’m with you on that.”

“I noticed.”

“You’re supposed to.” Jason craned his neck toward the guard. “You and Brandon were chatty.”

You noticed. Blake glanced at the guard—Brandon, apparently. “Always seems to happen when I run into another American.”

“Ah, right. Are you from the same area?”

“Hard to say. He’s picking up an accent from you Brits, so . . .”

Jason laughed. “Well, still. A frame of reference in a foreign country and culture. Two nations divided by a common language and all that.”

“Nice Shaw reference.”

“I try.” Jason shrugged. “And Brandon is hot. Did I see you checking out Raoul too?”

“Hard not to.”

“It is.” He nodded at the bartender. “You might click with him. Brandon, on the other hand, is very much a Dom.”

“I didn’t know he worked here. I mean, as a—”

“He used to. Then he got his hands on the boss, and the rest is history.” Jason smiled at him. “Raoul’s mostly a Dom and a top, too, though he’s much switchier than Brandon. That what you’re into?”

“I like a bit of power, but I’m not into pain.”

Jason’s grin would’ve f*cked with Blake’s blood pressure if it hadn’t already been screwed up. He leaned closer, laying one arm on the table in that neutral space between their drinks. “I can see why Jared and Tristan referred you to me, then.”

“Is that right?”

“Mm-hmm.” Jason’s eyes flicked toward the table. Toward his own arm, specifically, and when he met Blake’s gaze again, he lifted his arm and reached all the way across. He trailed his fingertips along the side of Blake’s hand, a finger catching on his cuff, then his watch. “They said you’d come looking for me. To be honest, I was starting to wonder if you would.”

“Well, I’m . . .” Blake gulped. “I’m not always in town. Business. I live—”

“In America, I know.” Jason’s grin turned playful. His fingertip traced the edge of the gold Rolex, dangerously close to running across the skin of Blake’s wrist. “But I’ve been intrigued. They told me a lot about you.”

“Did they, now?” Blake watched Jason’s fingers, watched goose bumps rising on his arm as if his skin were trying its damnedest to close that minute distance. “All good things, I hope?”

“Well.” Something in Jason’s tone prompted Blake to lift his gaze, and when their eyes met, the blue-eyed rentboy said, “They said you’re a high roller.”

“Isn’t everyone who comes in here?”

“Some more than others. But as they say, you get what you pay for.” Jason’s fingers left the watch and slid onto the back of Blake’s hand. “And as far as I’m concerned, if a man is willing to pay, I’m definitely willing to play.”

Blake’s body temperature was soaring now, and it wasn’t only from the warm fingertips currently exploring the grooves and contours of his hand. “So you’re saying you’re expensive?”

Jason laughed, the sound soft and mischievous at the same time. “Let’s just say that if they sold me in a department store, I’d be in the ‘if you have to ask, you can’t afford it’ section.”

Oh dear sweet mother of God. Blake’s pulse was out of control. How many men had taken out second mortgages, sold their cars, and lived on ramen noodles to pay whatever price Jason commanded? Money wasn’t an issue for Blake, but damn, sitting across from Jason now while that scorching point of contact drove him insane, he was already cataloguing assets that could be, if the situation warranted, jettisoned.

“So that brings us to the next question.” Jason drew swirls on the back of Blake’s hand because, hell, Blake wasn’t already losing his mind. “What are you looking for tonight?”

Blake swallowed. “Well, um . . .”

Get it together, Raleigh. This is a business negotiation. This is what you do. Close the f*cking deal without getting screwed. Err, without getting f*cked. Err . . . crap.

He took a deep breath and pushed his shoulders back, channeling the professional side of him that had earned the money that would be going into Jason’s wallet tonight. “You ever driven a Lamborghini?”

Jason squirmed. “Not yet.”

“I have one.” Blake grinned. “Had two for a while, but now I have one.”