“We—I shouldn’t have done that. It’s . . . against the rules.”
Spencer put his hand on Nick’s arm, and Nick recoiled, flinching away from him like he’d smacked him. Nick got up, running an unsteady hand through his hair.
“I . . . I should really go. This is—”
Spencer stood. He reached for Nick. “Let’s talk, Nick.
We’ve been able to talk about everything else.”
“We did talk about this,” Nick snapped. “And we agreed it wouldn’t happen.”
86
Spencer froze. He couldn’t comprehend anything. His brain was still too fucked up from God knew how long in subspace, but he needed to process things. Which he couldn’t do if Nick ran out the door before he’d even had a chance to figure out which way was up, let alone what the hell was going on.
Nick tossed a few things into his bag, and Spencer really didn’t like the way his hands shook as he zipped it. Or the way his voice did the same as he muttered, “I should go. We’ll talk later.”“Nick.” Spencer put a hand on Nick’s arm again. “I don’t think this is as bad as you—”
“It is. Trust me, it is, and I need to . . . I can’t . . .” He glanced down at Spencer’s hand, shrugged just right to get his arm out from under it, and as he took a step back, he whispered, “Bonaparte.”
Everything stops at Bonaparte.
Spencer shook his head, tried to push the daze away, halfway aware that Nick might need him, might need his help, and that they should really talk about this. Hell, Nick whipped him to tears or complete surrender or both, and they couldn’t talk about a stupid kiss?
“It’s okay. I . . . I . . . If you need to back off, that’s, uh, fine, but can we talk about this?”
Nick was starting to get dressed.
Don’t let him get out of the door in that state.
“Nick, please. What rules are you talking about? Mine? I never set those rules. Yours? Who agreed to those rules?”
“Don’t go lawyer on me,” Nick snapped. “It’s not good form.”
“What, kissing?”
87
Nick rolled his eyes. “No, arguing about it. It’s not like I argue when shit gets too much for you.”
Uh, no. Nick didn’t. Sometimes the pain had been too much, and Spencer had “tapped out,” but that was twice in three months, and once had been simply due to fear of pain rather than the pain itself.
“Okay. Sorry. That was bad form. I’m just . . . trying to understand.”
Nick, who was always so together, so easily in control, looked like he was freaking out. And that, above everything else, was deeply disturbing. The anchor had lost its hold. The solid ground under Spencer’s feet . . . wasn’t. He didn’t know what to think.
Nick stood there, gaze down and shirt in his hands.
His eyebrows were low over his eyes, his lips taut, and the tightness in his neck and shoulders hinted at the much more pronounced, cable-tight tension that always built just before his orgasm took over. The same muscles and tendons under the same skin, but now they seemed somehow harder.
“Let’s just talk,” Spencer said. “That’s al .”
Nick closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “I need to think first.”
“So, what?” Spencer blinked. “You’re just going to disappear until you’ve cleared your head? What about me?
Do I get a word in this?”
He expected an angry reaction, a biting response, but Nick just shifted his weight and kept his eyes down. “I don’t want to make things worse.”
“Leaving will make things worse.”
Nick’s eyes flicked up to meet his. “So will staying.”
“How?” Spencer swallowed hard. “I’m . . . kind of lost here.”
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Sighing, Nick ran a hand through his hair. Then he took a stiff, hesitant step towards the bed, and finally sat on its very edge, his leather trousers creaking with the slow movement and the settling of his weight. Spencer wanted to reach for him, if only to make some contact and be sure Nick was really still here, but he didn’t move.
“This is a business transaction.” Icicles hung off every word. “It’s just supposed to be . . .”
“Just sex.”
A stiff shrug. “More or less. Some pain play, dominance . . .”
He waved a hand sharply. “Whatever. Just that. There are lines we can’t cross.”
“Are you saying we’re in danger of crossing those lines?”
Nick met his eyes. Neither of them needed to add the “. . . or have we already?”
Spencer drew a shuddering breath. “I like you, Nick.
I really do. I . . . guess I trust you so much that it’s kind of difficult not to like you.”
Nick shook his head. “That’s the point. You don’t have to be in control. I do.”
Oh. Oh.
“It’s okay. I—I can forget that happened. We just got carried away.” And it had felt so damn nice. “An accident, though you’re an amazing kisser. I’m good with that. If you want, you can kiss me. We just change the rules.”