On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)(62)

Jason blinked. “So, we’d still . . . I mean, we’d . . .”

“If it works, why not? I love you, Jason. I want you to be happy and I want you to be satisfied. That’s all.” Tentatively, Blake stepped closer. “The question is, could you be happy and satisfied with me?”

“What makes you think I couldn’t?”

Blake took a breath. “You like to negotiate. Money turns you on. But I . . . I mean, anything could change. There’s nothing that says I’ll never lose every penny I have.”

“I know. And that’s something I thought about a lot last night.”

“How so?”

“It . . .” Jason dropped his gaze as he withdrew his hand from his pocket, though he kept his fingers closed. “I realized I didn’t want your money. It’s fun to play and negotiate for sex, but . . .” He stared at his hand for a moment, and then he turned it, opening his fingers and letting the contents fall out.

Blake’s gold cuff links.

They tumbled across the table like a pair of dice, stopping near the Rémy Martin bottle.

“I don’t want your things, Blake,” Jason whispered. “I don’t want your money. I want the man who made me feel like I did when I had the flu. And when we were out to dinner that first night in America.”

“How did you feel?”

Jason moistened his lips, and his voice was barely audible as he said, “Like I mattered more than what I could do with my body.”

All the air left Blake’s lungs. Cautiously, he reached for Jason’s cheek, and when Jason didn’t recoil from his touch, whispered, “There’s nothing you could do with your body that would make me drop everything and fly this far.”

Jason put his hand over Blake’s. “I can’t think of anything you could do with your money that would keep me up like I was last night.”

“Then let me ask you this—would I still be attractive to you if I were broke?”

Without hesitation, Jason nodded. “Yeah. You would be.”

“Because it’s always a possibility. The economy could tank again, or—”

“I know.” Jason’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “And you’re serious about me staying here in London. Staying at Market Garden.”

“Would you be happy leaving all that behind and coming to New Jersey?”

Jason chewed the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know.”

“Then what kind of man would I be if I told you those were the conditions?” Blake shrugged. “I want you, Jason. I love you. I don’t want to change you. And I would rather have a long-distance relationship while you work as a prostitute here in London than not have you at all.”

“But . . . why?”

“Why what?”

“Why me?”

“I think if I could explain that, then you’d be right in thinking this wasn’t real. But I can’t. There isn’t a why. I just love you.”

Jason exhaled, his shoulders sinking.

Blake smoothed Jason’s hair. “We don’t have to decide what to do this minute. All I wanted was for you to hear me out.”

Avoiding his eyes, Jason nodded. “I’m sorry. About last night. I should have—”

“I caught you off guard. And I . . . probably came on stronger than I should have.”

“Why did you?”

Blake hesitated. “Honestly, I was afraid I wouldn’t get the chance to tell you how I felt. I had no idea if you felt the same way, only that I needed you to know.”

“And if I hadn’t changed my mind?”

“Then I would have gone back to the States and let you go. I was on my way to the airport when I got your email.”

Jason released a breath. “It’s still hard to believe that someone exists who doesn’t think he’s entitled to me. Or wants to own me.”

“Believe it.” Blake pulled him into his arms and kissed his forehead. “As for where we go from here, we can play it by ear. One day at a time. It’s not something we need to wrap up in a bow this instant. Things happened fast up to this point. We can slow—”

“No.” Jason lifted his gaze, and finally, his lips curved into one of those little smiles that drove Blake crazy. “We’ll work out the details. But . . . I love you too.”

Blake was about to speak, but right then, Jason stood up on his toes and kissed him.

He couldn’t remember the last time a kiss stopped him in his tracks like this one. As if everything they’d said had just been words that meant nothing while they stood an arm’s-length apart, but were carved in stone the instant Jason’s lips met Blake’s.

God. Yeah. This is real, isn’t it?

Jason drew back and met his gaze, and they both smiled. Blake kissed him again, softly this time.

“My kitchen doesn’t have quite the right ambiance for this,” Jason murmured. “Maybe we should move to my bedroom.”

Blake met his gaze. “But I thought you didn’t bring men to—”

“I said I didn’t bring johns into my bed.” Jason tugged Blake toward the hall. “Let’s go.”





In the bedroom doorway, Jason stopped. “Wait.” He swallowed. “Before we . . .” He broke eye contact.