If It Flies (Market Garden, #3)

Nick looked at him like he was a complete babbling idiot.

Maybe he was. But damn, it had felt nice, and now that he knew Nick had lost control, even in this simple, everyday gesture that still felt more intimate than all the other things they’d done, it thrilled him to his toes. But maybe that was just ego. The john who got an enormous kick out of the whore 89

climaxing. Some things couldn’t be faked, and maybe for Nick that was kissing. Of all things.

Nick tapped his temple. “In here, I know it happened.”

His Adam’s apple jumped. “And . . . why.”

Spencer chewed his lip. “Well, that makes one of us.”

Closing his eyes, Nick blew out a sharp breath. “Don’t make me spell anything out, Spencer. Not tonight.”

It was bizarre to hear Nick pleading. Even at the height of pre-climax tension, he gave orders. Any question he asked, he damn sure knew the answer to already. He didn’t beg. He didn’t plead. He just bloody didn’t.

So this? Spencer had no idea how to process this.

“I need to go.” The firmness had returned to Nick’s voice, but he stood as slowly as he’d sat down. “We’ll talk more.

Next week.”

At least that allowed Spencer to breathe a little easier. This wasn’t a slamming door, just an intermission. There would be a next week.

He stood too. “I guess we should settle up. For this evening.”

Nick chewed the inside of his cheek, shook his head.

“We’ll work it out when I come back. When we both have clearer heads.” He met Spencer’s eyes again. “You won’t be paying full price for tonight, I just . . . I don’t know how much . . .”

“I’ll pay you in full for tonight.” Spencer picked up his wallet off the dresser and slid the notes free. As he held them out to Nick, he added, “If you want to discount it, we can work that out when you come back.”

Nick eyed the money, then Spencer. With a sigh that could have been relief, resignation, defeat, or God knew what, he took the cash, and it was probably no accident that their 90

fingers didn’t brush. He slid the notes into his back pocket and put on his shirt.

“So, next week.” He cleared his throat as he draped his jacket over his arm. “Same time.”

Spencer nodded. “Same bat time, same bat channel.”

Nick allowed himself a quiet laugh, which relaxed Spencer a little more. Maybe he was just spooked. Couldn’t think on his feet right now. Needed to collect his thoughts in private before the two of them talked it over.

And with an equally quiet “I’ll see you,” Nick left.

Leaving Spencer to ponder, for the next six days, how something that had felt so good could hurt either of them.

91





Chapter


eighT


on’t be able to make it tonight, the text said. And a Wsecond text, just a few minutes later: Heading with a friend to Spain. Realised I haven’t had a holiday in years.

With a friend?

Spencer’s stomach clenched, and he wished he’d left the phone at his desk rather than taken it with him to lunch.

Nick had never skipped out, always been on time, reliable and steady like few other people in Spencer’s life.

Though it figured. Getting trashed in Spain with a friend was one of those things young guys did, and maybe Nick figured that letting his hair down, getting piss drunk and possibly laid— don’t think about that part—was the best way to relax. Besides, Spain was cheap at the moment, and out of season, too.

Only problem was, he’d come to rely on Nick for his sanity after each stressful week, especially now that the firm’s big merger deal was heating up again, with lots of musical chairs being fought over in the various practices, and he itched to try to intercept him on the way to the airport. Except that would be far too clingy. That, and trying to guess the right airport between Heathrow, Gatwick, City, Stansted, and Luton would be a desperate bid with no chance of success.

He slid his phone into his pocket, feeling abandoned, bereft, disappointed in Nick and in himself for how much he relied on this.

What had Percy said? I do like some variety.

92

Thing was, this was much deeper than punching a hole.

This pain/pleasure thing was so much more complex than the sex, and on that count, he’d been completely honest with Nick. He trusted him. And Nick had made a commitment— to teach him, train him, and above al , to be worthy of that trust.It was why he could charge pretty much whatever he wanted. He wasn’t just a prostitute. He wasn’t even just a top. He was, quite literally, during the scenes, the centre of Spencer’s world.

Stop being so melodramatic, he admonished himself. Let him be young and irresponsible. Hell, he might really just need a holiday. He’s probably realised he’s lost himself in work—just like you tend to—and is taking a week off to decompress.

Mere coincidence, Spencer silently insisted, that the urgent need for a decompression holiday was a week on the heels of that night.