“A penthouse?”
Jason nodded. Laughing softly, he set the key down beside the cuff links. “This oil tycoon who’s richer than God tried to convince me to come to Dubai permanently. When I said I wouldn’t, he bought me a place instead. Said it’s mine any time I want to use it.”
“Have you ever seen it?”
“No. I . . . If I’m honest, I feel a little strange about going into a highly secure building for a man who was that obsessed with having me stay with him.” Jason rolled his shoulders, almost masking a shudder. “Getting the keys in exchange for sex, that was hot. Realizing I had no way of knowing if the doors locked from the outside? Not so much.”
“You think he’d actually lock you in?”
“Maybe. Who knows? But sometimes you get that sixth sense that something isn’t a good idea, and for me, that sixth sense kicks in when I think about using that key.”
“But you keep it on display?”
Jason nodded, gazing at it for a moment. Then his eyes flicked toward Blake. “I guess it’s a reminder not to get so caught up in what a man’s offering that I forget what strings might be attached.”
Blake glanced at the key card. “I suppose that’s a good way of looking at it.”
“Well, and there’s—” Jason stared at the key card.
“Hmm?”
After a moment, Jason pulled in a breath and faced Blake. “The thing is, I don’t mind exchanging sex for money. In fact, I love it.”
“So I’ve seen.”
A smile briefly materialized on his lips, but vanished when his eyes shifted to the key card again. “Then you get people who want to take it too far. They think renting my body gives them a shot at buying everything else.” Jason tapped his own temple. “This isn’t for sale.”
“Of course it isn’t.”
“You’d be amazed how many men don’t seem to understand that.” Jason paused. Then he shook his head. “Anyway. Let me get my passport before I forget.”
“Good idea. You’ll need that.”
“You don’t say.”
As Jason continued packing, the key card wouldn’t be ignored. Was Blake crossing a creepy line by inviting Jason home with him? Granted Jason seemed to be on board with it, or they wouldn’t be here, but was it something he’d regret later? Was it something Blake would regret later?
He cleared his throat. “Um, to make sure we’re on the same page . . . this trip? There are no strings attached. If you want to fly home, say the word, and I’ll have you on the next plane to London. No questions asked.”
“What?” Jason stepped away from the suitcase on his bed, and slid his arms around Blake’s waist. “I don’t see that happening, but much appreciated.”
“I’m serious.” Blake smoothed Jason’s hair. “I want this to be a trip you enjoy as much as I do.”
“I have no doubt it will be.”
“Still, I—”
“Blake. Relax.” Jason stood up on his toes and pressed his lips to Blake’s. “If I wasn’t comfortable, you wouldn’t be in my flat, and I wouldn’t be packing to go to America with you. It’s fine. I promise.”
Blake held his gaze. “Okay. As long as we’re clear.”
“We are.” Jason kissed him again, and this time, neither drew away.
Blake had been with few guys who enjoyed making out the way Jason did. That alone was worth every penny. There was nothing in the world that compared to kissing.
Eventually, Jason drew back and met Blake’s eyes. “I should finish packing.” He licked his lips. “Then we can go back to the hotel, and won’t have to worry about getting up after we’ve fucked again.”
Blake shivered and released him. “Excellent idea.”
After their tickets and passports had been scanned, Blake and Jason boarded the plane. Neither had a lot of carry-on, so they just tucked their bags in the ample spaces beneath the seats in front of them, and still had miles of legroom.
“Now this is nice,” Jason said.
“It is. Fair warning, though—being in first class doesn’t alleviate the boredom of a flight this long.”
Jason clicked his tongue. “So no live theater? No strippers? No musical numbers?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Bastards. I want your money back.”
Blake laughed. “Good luck with that. They do, however, bring drinks before we take off.”
As if on cue, a pretty red-haired flight attendant appeared. “Can I get either of you a drink?”
Jason’s eyebrows jumped. “Uh, I’ll have a . . .” He paused. “What does one drink at this time of day on a plane?”
“Whatever the hell you want.” To the flight attendant, Blake said, “Could I get a Bud Light, please?”
“Of course.” She smiled.
“Bud Light?” Jason wrinkled his nose. “You’re not even in the air and you’ve already abandoned your good taste. Tsk-tsk. May I have a mojito, please?”
“Certainly. I’ll be right back.”
“I like this first-class business already.” Jason wriggled in his seat, as if getting comfortable in all the cushy space that was his for the next several hours. “So how do we pass the time on a flight like this?”
“Drink. Watch movies. Sleep if you’re so inclined.”