On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)(61)

Blake shifted uncomfortably. “And . . .?”

“And . . .” Jason gulped. “The thing is, anytime some guy has claimed he’s fallen for me, I’ve asked him the same thing: how do you know it’s real? And they never have an answer.” He pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose, and didn’t speak for a while, but Blake had a feeling he was going to say something, so he let the silence continue.

After a solid minute, Jason lowered his hand. “After I went back into the club last night, I had every intention of finding someone else for the evening, but I couldn’t stop thinking about this. I thought you’d come back in like every other man does because how dare I turn you down? But you didn’t. I couldn’t concentrate on anybody else. So I went home. And I had a few drinks. And I . . . I spent some time thinking.” He squared his shoulders and looked Blake in the eye. “And I kept going to back to . . . I mean, yeah, how do you know it’s real, but how do I know it’s not?”

Blake’s stomach flipped. “How can I show you that it is?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. But I can usually blow it off as infatuation because for guys like you with guys like me, that’s what it is. But . . .”

“I don’t think infatuation usually hurts like this.”

Jason’s eyes widened. “Hurts? What do you mean?”

“I mean, the way it felt watching you walk away last night. Or before I made it to London, not being able to think about anything else, to the point that I dropped everything and—” Blake cleared his throat. He stared at the floor for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “For what it’s worth, all the way here—from my house to the airport, that entire f*cking flight, I . . .” He swallowed, and finally met Jason’s eyes. “I never once thought about having sex with you.”

Jason’s eyebrows jumped.

Blake fidgeted under his scrutiny. “I mean, I did. Like, remembering things we’d done before because that’s how we’ve spent a lot of time—in bed. But the whole time I was trying to get to you yesterday, it wasn’t because I wanted to have sex with you. It was you. I wanted to see you, I wanted to talk to you, and I wanted you to know how I felt. When I saw you with the other guy, I guess I panicked. I started bidding against him because I needed to talk to you, but I didn’t want to screw you out of whatever he was offering to pay you. But . . .” He shook his head. “Sex didn’t even factor into the equation.”

Jason fidgeted. Then he started pacing as much as the cramped kitchen would allow. “This is crazy. I mean, say you did fly out here wanting to talk to me instead of f*ck me, let’s face it—everything that’s happened between us goes back to sex. What happens when I’m not this anymore?” He stopped pacing. “I’m going to age like everyone else. I’m going to have bad days, and who knows? My sex drive could dry up at some point. Yours might too. Then what?” He gestured at himself, then at Blake. “What’s left here?”

“The same thing that was left when you came down with the flu at my place. Maybe it wouldn’t be all fireworks and broken furniture, but we’d be together. I know you were miserable when you were sick, and I hated that. But I have to admit, that time was enjoyable in its own way because we were just . . . there. Together. I never felt like I was getting short-changed or like you weren’t holding up your end of the deal. I wanted you to feel better so you’d feel better, not so you could . . .”

“Earn my keep?”

“Something like that. The only thing I would have changed about that trip was you feeling like shit. I kept thinking about how much I’d like to spend a week or two with you, minus the microbe. The whole trip, you kept apologizing for ruining our time together, but what you didn’t get is that you didn’t ruin anything. Hanging out on the couch? Watching movies? Just being there?” Blake smiled. “I couldn’t have asked for anything more aside from you being healthy enough to enjoy it too.”

Jason held his gaze for a long moment. “And, hypothetically, what if we did try this? What if we dated?”

“What about it?”

“You really wouldn’t have a problem with dating me while I continue getting paid to have sex with other men?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

Jason inclined his head, skepticism written across his features.

“I don’t want to own you. I’d happily buy you anything you wanted, including your own place, but I’d never dream of locking you in it.”

Jason shuddered.

“I didn’t come here to buy something that isn’t for sale. Or to take you away from the world you know and love to stay in mine. I’m happy to accept everything about your world.” He paused. “Look, it’s not how I pictured my ideal relationship, but I didn’t picture falling for someone on the other side of an ocean either. Circumstances are what they are. If five thousand miles between us and you working as a prostitute are part of the reality of being with you, then I’m happy to accept it. I want to be with you, not change you.”

Folding his arms loosely, Jason gnawed his lip. “What about the sex? It’s . . . always been a commodity between us.”

“It doesn’t have to be. I mean, I want us to sleep together because we want to. And yes, I know you get off pretty hard on negotiations and payment.” Blake shrugged. “It’s hot for both of us, so why change what works?”