On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)(38)

“Of course it isn’t.”

“You’d be amazed how many men don’t seem to understand that.” Jason paused. Then he shook his head. “Anyway. Let me get my passport before I forget.”

“Good idea. You’ll need that.”

“You don’t say.”

As Jason continued packing, the key card wouldn’t be ignored. Was Blake crossing a creepy line by inviting Jason home with him? Granted Jason seemed to be on board with it, or they wouldn’t be here, but was it something he’d regret later? Was it something Blake would regret later?

He cleared his throat. “Um, to make sure we’re on the same page . . . this trip? There are no strings attached. If you want to fly home, say the word, and I’ll have you on the next plane to London. No questions asked.”

“What?” Jason stepped away from the suitcase on his bed, and slid his arms around Blake’s waist. “I don’t see that happening, but much appreciated.”

“I’m serious.” Blake smoothed Jason’s hair. “I want this to be a trip you enjoy as much as I do.”

“I have no doubt it will be.”

“Still, I—”

“Blake. Relax.” Jason stood up on his toes and pressed his lips to Blake’s. “If I wasn’t comfortable, you wouldn’t be in my flat, and I wouldn’t be packing to go to America with you. It’s fine. I promise.”

Blake held his gaze. “Okay. As long as we’re clear.”

“We are.” Jason kissed him again, and this time, neither drew away.

Blake had been with few guys who enjoyed making out the way Jason did. That alone was worth every penny. There was nothing in the world that compared to kissing.

Eventually, Jason drew back and met Blake’s eyes. “I should finish packing.” He licked his lips. “Then we can go back to the hotel, and won’t have to worry about getting up after we’ve f*cked again.”

Blake shivered and released him. “Excellent idea.”





After their tickets and passports had been scanned, Blake and Jason boarded the plane. Neither had a lot of carry-on, so they just tucked their bags in the ample spaces beneath the seats in front of them, and still had miles of legroom.

“Now this is nice,” Jason said.

“It is. Fair warning, though—being in first class doesn’t alleviate the boredom of a flight this long.”

Jason clicked his tongue. “So no live theater? No strippers? No musical numbers?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Bastards. I want your money back.”

Blake laughed. “Good luck with that. They do, however, bring drinks before we take off.”

As if on cue, a pretty red-haired flight attendant appeared. “Can I get either of you a drink?”

Jason’s eyebrows jumped. “Uh, I’ll have a . . .” He paused. “What does one drink at this time of day on a plane?”

“Whatever the hell you want.” To the flight attendant, Blake said, “Could I get a Bud Light, please?”

“Of course.” She smiled.

“Bud Light?” Jason wrinkled his nose. “You’re not even in the air and you’ve already abandoned your good taste. Tsk-tsk. May I have a mojito, please?”

“Certainly. I’ll be right back.”

“I like this first-class business already.” Jason wriggled in his seat, as if getting comfortable in all the cushy space that was his for the next several hours. “So how do we pass the time on a flight like this?”

“Drink. Watch movies. Sleep if you’re so inclined.”

“Won’t that screw up my body clock? Sleeping, I mean?”

“Flying across an ocean is going to screw up your body clock.” Blake shrugged. “Ideally, yeah, you want to stay awake, but if you fall asleep, you fall asleep.”

“Which I suppose I will, considering how much sleep I didn’t have last night.”

Blake reached across to pat Jason’s arm. “That makes two of us, doesn’t it?”

Jason winked. “What a coincidence.”



They both dozed here and there, but for the most part, stayed awake. They watched movies on Blake’s laptop, talked about random things, and Jason amused Blake by marveling over the fact that first class had real food served in actual dishes.

“Didn’t you fly first class when you went to the States before?” Blake asked over lunch.

“Oh, f*ck no.” Jason skewered a piece of zucchini with his fork. “I was traveling with mates on that trip. I’m not splashing out for this”—he gestured at the cabin around them—“unless someone else is footing the bill.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jason laughed. “Thank you. And I fully intend to earn my keep.” He winked, and Blake shivered. Yes, this was definitely a good idea.

Toward the end of the long flight—which had been surprisingly bearable, thanks to Blake’s seatmate—the flight attendants handed out forms to give the customs agents.

Blake had a couple of pens in his carry-on bag, so he gave one to Jason, and they both diligently filled out the bullshit information.

As Jason skimmed over the card, he snorted. “Somehow I don’t think I should put my real occupation on here.”