I’m looking at you because I don’t want to look at anything else.
He forced himself to break eye contact, though, and fussed with the keys in his hand before he found the button to pop the Land Rover’s hatch and the other to unlock the doors. “We should get moving. I don’t want you to have to rush through security.”
“Right. Right.” Jason climbed into the passenger seat while Blake lifted the hatch to put the suitcase away.
Then Blake got in beside him and started the engine. As it idled, he said, “Well, as I said, flu bullshit aside, it was nice to have you here. I’m . . . gonna miss you.”
“I enjoyed it too.” Faint amusement curled the edges of his lips. “Flu bullshit notwithstanding.”
Blake chuckled, though it took more effort than it should have. “Maybe next time, you’ll get to see New York.”
“Yeah. Next time.” Jason’s eyes drifted toward the Lamborghini. “When will you be back in London?”
“It’s hard to say. If I could drop everything and go on a moment’s notice, believe me, I would.”
Jason faced him. “No need for that. Besides—” he laughed dryly “—I’m sure New York has the equivalent to Market Garden somewhere.”
But it wouldn’t have an equivalent to you.
“Either way, I’ll be counting down to my next trip.”
“Me too.”
Blake didn’t look away. Neither did Jason. Much more of this, and they wouldn’t be pulling out of the garage anytime soon.
But . . .
To hell with it.
Blake leaned across the console, touched Jason’s face, and drew him into a soft kiss. Jason’s fingers slid along Blake’s neck and up into his hair, and he kissed him back as if he were this close to suggesting they get the hell upstairs.
But then Jason broke away, and drew his tongue along his lips. “We should . . . we should go.”
“Yeah. We should.” Blake straightened in his seat and rested his hand on the gearshift. He stole one more glance at Jason and considered stealing one more kiss for good measure, but then Jason would miss his flight for sure.
And yes, Blake, that would be a bad thing. Let the dude go home.
He backed out of the garage.
Neither said a whole lot on the way to the airport. It was probably the longest near-silence they’d ever shared, aside from sleeping or watching a movie. Blake couldn’t tell if it was a loaded silence or not—it prickled along his nerve endings and twisted his stomach into knots, but God knew if that was mutual, or if Jason was more focused on the New York City skyline in the hazy distance than the unmoving space between them.
The Departures sign—the one he’d been driven past a million times—sent his heart into his throat. As he pulled up beneath the airline, finding a spot beside the curb as close to the door as he could get, he searched for something to say, but couldn’t come up with anything. He’d gone into this visit thinking he was indulging in a week or so at home with a prostitute who rocked his world like no one else, so this moment should’ve been “Thanks for a great time” and “Yes, I counted that right” and “Trust me, you earned it.” This dull ache in his chest wasn’t part of the plan.
They both got out, and Blake pulled Jason’s suitcase from the trunk. He slammed the hatch, and they faced each other, that silence lingering even now.
“Well. Uh. Here we are.”
“Right.” Jason avoided Blake’s eyes, but only for a moment. “I’ll see you when you come back to London?”
Blake mentally cleared his calendar of obstacles that might keep him from traveling sooner than later. “Absolutely.”
“Well.” Jason flashed him a quick smile. “I’d better be off, then.”
“Yeah. Safe travels.”
“Thanks.”
They locked eyes, and it occurred to Blake that he had no idea what the proper protocol was for this. A handshake? A hug? A kiss?
Eventually, they each murmured, “See you soon.”
Then Jason turned to go.
He made it three steps before Blake said, “Wait.”
Jason faced him, eyebrows up.
Blake swallowed, closed the distance that Jason had gained, and glanced around before meeting his gaze. “Do you, um, have any objection to people here knowing you’re gay?”
Jason scanned their surroundings. “No one here’s likely to ever see me again. Can’t say I care what they know about me.”
“Good.” Blake wrapped an arm around Jason’s waist and kissed him.
For a heartbeat, he was sure Jason would stiffen and back away—gay or not, he was British—but he didn’t meet any resistance at all. Instead, Jason opened to his kiss and ran his fingers through Blake’s hair like he had in the garage. No, more than that—he held him tighter, kissed him harder, let it go on longer. Maybe now that there was no bed nearby, no way they could run off and have one more fuck before he missed his flight, it was safe to be a bit more demonstrative. That was easier than thinking Jason was as desperate for one last kiss as he was.