On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)

“Too far? How so?”

“I mean, when we were at your apartment, you mentioned guys trying to buy what wasn’t for sale.” He swirled his wineglass. “For the record, I have no intention of—”

“You’re fine.” Jason waved a hand. “To tell you the truth, it’s a nice switch. Being able to have a conversation that isn’t about sex or money.”

“You don’t do that when you’re an escort?”

“Not very often.” He rolled his eyes and sipped his wine. “Most of the time, they’re waving their money around like a cock extension, or they’re trying to impress me with how spectacular the sex will be later.”

“Does it live up to the bragging?”

“Sometimes. But as far as conversations go, it’s about as boring as that bloody customs line.”

Blake winced. “Wow. That is boring.”

“And this . . .” Jason met Blake’s gaze. “To answer your question, no. This isn’t too far.” He paused, tilting his head as if studying Blake. “It’s kind of funny, actually. I never get that impression from you. That you’re waving your dick or your money around.”

Blake poured a little more wine in both their glasses. “So I assume you don’t chase after men like that when you want to date someone?”

Jason wrinkled his nose. “Oh God, no. My last boyfriend was a busboy, for fuck’s sake.”

“Was he?”

Jason nodded. “And I was absolutely smitten with him. But”—he shrugged—“he didn’t like me stripping. He hated the thought of men ogling me while I took off my clothes.”

“That must’ve been before you worked at Market Garden.”

“Right before. After my ex dumped me, I asked Tristan about Market Garden, and became a prostitute. Partially for spite, and partially because I’d felt so oppressed for so long, I wanted to prove to myself that I was completely free of that nonsense.” He chuckled. “And I guess everything about it appealed to me, so I stayed.”

“Do you think you’ll ever get into a relationship again?”

“Depends on if I can find someone who’ll look past what I do with my body and doesn’t think he can buy the rest. I’ll give it, but damned if I’ll sell it to anyone.” His eyes lost focus as he swirled his wine. “As much as I love what I do, you’d be amazed how many people think I’m either worthless because I’m a whore, or like I’m one of those trinkets you saw at my flat.”

Blake shook his head. “That blows my mind, to be honest. I mean, there’s paying for sex, and there’s behaving like someone’s an object. Not the same fucking thing.”

“Seriously.” Jason watched him over the rim of his glass. “I still don’t get why a man like you has to pay for sex with men like me.”

Blake took a sip of wine. “Because men like you charge me for—”

“You know what I mean.” Jason set his glass aside and slid down deeper in the water, until it was nearly to his chin. “You’ve got money, but you’re hardly lacking in looks, and you’ve got a brain and personality. I can’t imagine that single men aren’t falling all over you.”

Blake laughed, thankful for the hot tub’s heat to mask the rush of warmth to his cheeks. “Well, like I said before, I’m not a huge fan of guys who are only interested in my money. And the guys who aren’t in love with my wallet would prefer to be with someone who doesn’t work as many hours as I do, or doesn’t travel as much.”

“So they’re either clinging to you or your bank account.”

“Basically.”

Jason muttered something Blake didn’t catch. Before he could ask him to repeat it, though, Jason asked, “This isn’t a tremendous imposition, is it? Keeping you away from your work?”

“No, no.” Blake gestured dismissively, sending a few droplets across the tub. “I mean, my business partners aren’t thrilled about me taking time off on a moment’s notice, but I’ll make it up to them. It’s expected that I spend some time fucking around when I’m in London—they do the same thing when they’re in Tokyo or Sydney—but when we’re home, we all have our noses to the grindstone.”

Jason sat straighter. “So, they will object to this?”

“Nah.” Blake shrugged. “I may have to take a few calls and keep up on email, but they can do without me in the office as long as I don’t abuse the privilege.”

“If you need to go in, I can manage.”

Blake shook his head and set his glass beside the edge of the tub. Sliding closer, he put his hand on Jason’s leg. “I didn’t bring you here so I could leave you home while I went to the office. As it is, I wouldn’t be able to focus anyway.”

Jason studied him for a moment, but then a grin started to appear. “Is that right?”

“It is.” Blake squeezed his leg. “You’re very distracting, you know that?”

“That’s the idea.” Jason turned, and then climbed on top of Blake, straddling him. Despite the hot water and apparent fatigue, he was already getting hard. “Distraction is one of my superpowers.”