Take It Off (Market Garden, #2)(10)

“We were working together, fooling around on the side, and it . . . it worked.” He swept his tongue across his lips. “But now things are different. And lately, every time you leave the Garden with another guy, or I watch you with Rolex or anyone else, it makes me . . .”

“Jealous?” Jared tried not to let the word sound like an accusation, but some of his annoyance slipped out with it.

Looking away, Tristan nodded. “I guess that’s it.”

Jared glanced at their hands, which were still clasped together, if a bit looser than before. “So, now that I’m sleeping with you, you don’t want me sleeping with other men?” Even if it’s my f*cking job?

Tristan closed his eyes. He pushed his shoulders back, his leather jacket squeaking softly as he did, and then squeezed Jared’s hand as he made eye contact again. “I can’t . . . look, it just kills me watching you with men who don’t care about you.”

Jared’s breath caught. “What?”

Tristan dropped his gaze again. Jared had never seen him so tense, as if just breathing—never mind speaking—was physically painful. “I don’t even mind if a guy doesn’t care about me, but when it’s you . . .” He visibly winced.

Jared ran his thumb along the side of Tristan’s hand. “But . . . all these guys. We’ve known . . . we’ve both known since we started working at Market Garden that they don’t really care about us.”

“I know.” Tristan brought up his other hand and tenderly stroked the back of Jared’s. His fingers trembled badly, and so did his voice. “But that was before I realised how much I care about you.”

Jared just stared at him for a moment, heart pounding and stomach fluttering. He didn’t know whether to be touched or angry. His heart settled on both at the same time.

Before Jared could speak, Tristan said, “I know this is the worst possible moment. I . . . I know. But it’s been tearing me up for a while now, and I was afraid to say anything because—” He released a long breath and met Jared’s gaze, the fear palpable in his eyes. “I was afraid of what you’d say.”

“Couldn’t you have said something at breakfast? Or, I don’t know. Yesterday on the couch? When it was just you and me?”

“Yeah.” Tristan’s fingers were a little damp, and that never happened. He was always the guy with the poker face, and seeing him so at a loss hurt. It was confusing. And infuriating. “I’m sorry. I guess watching you with him tonight, I just lost it.”

It was damn near impossible to stay angry when Tristan looked so defeated. It wasn’t just petty jealousy, but real concern. Tristan was f*cking miserable, and it was hard to be the cause of it.

And it wasn’t just that. Though the timing couldn’t have been any worse, Jared’s head spun as he slowly realised what Tristan was saying.

“Okay. So this is a declaration? We’re . . . more?”

Tristan pressed his lips together and nodded. “Certainly on this end.”

Relief and excitement rushed through Jared’s veins. If he could’ve found enough breath, he’d have let a dozen confessions tumble out of him—I’ve wanted to hear that for so long, you have no idea and I want this to be a lot more—but all he could do was whisper, “Really?”

Avoiding his eyes, Tristan nodded. “Yeah. I mean, if you don’t . . .”

“Bloody idiot.” Jared leaned over the footboard and kissed him. It was brief and almost superficial, but it was a kiss, and he felt both of them relax a little. “It is on this end too. I want more.” So much more.

For the first time this evening, Tristan smiled for real. He drew Jared into a tender kiss, sliding a hand into Jared’s hair. Jared had seen this sweet, gentle side of Tristan a few times when they were alone, especially recently, but now it damn near moved him to tears because it was real. It meant something.

Drawing back, he slowly ran the tip of his tongue along his lip for another taste of Tristan’s kiss. “So what about the future? At the Garden?”

“I don’t know.” Tristan shook his head. “I think I’m ready to start looking for another line of work.”

Jared held his gaze for a moment. “Is that what you want me to do too?”

Tristan swallowed. “I’d . . . I can’t tell you what to do with your life.”

“But if it was your choice?”

After a long hesitation, Tristan exhaled. “Yeah. I’d want you to move on too.” He kissed Jared’s forehead. “But it’s your choice.”

“I’ll have to think about my options,” Jared whispered, running his fingers through Tristan’s hair. “It won’t happen overnight.”

“I know. I understand.”

“And this is kind of shitty timing, you know.” Jared nodded towards the suite door. “What do we do when he comes back?”

“I’m not sure.”

Jared trailed a fingertip along the sharp edge of Tristan’s jaw. “Well, you said you don’t like seeing me with men who don’t care about me, right?”

Tristan nodded.

Jared grinned. “I don’t know about you, but he seems like he actually gives a shit. About both of us.”

Tristan’s eyes darted towards the door. Jared had a point. How many other johns would’ve gotten Jared a robe, and then stepped out so they could sort their issues, all without getting angry? Or throwing them out as he was well within his rights to do? The guy did seem to genuinely care. Not care care, not in a personal kind of way, but he didn’t seem to want anything bad to happen to the men he rented.