Jason moistened his lips, and his voice was barely audible as he said, “Like I mattered more than what I could do with my body.”
All the air left Blake’s lungs. Cautiously, he reached for Jason’s cheek, and when Jason didn’t recoil from his touch, whispered, “There’s nothing you could do with your body that would make me drop everything and fly this far.”
Jason put his hand over Blake’s. “I can’t think of anything you could do with your money that would keep me up like I was last night.”
“Then let me ask you this—would I still be attractive to you if I were broke?”
Without hesitation, Jason nodded. “Yeah. You would be.”
“Because it’s always a possibility. The economy could tank again, or—”
“I know.” Jason’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “And you’re serious about me staying here in London. Staying at Market Garden.”
“Would you be happy leaving all that behind and coming to New Jersey?”
Jason chewed the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know.”
“Then what kind of man would I be if I told you those were the conditions?” Blake shrugged. “I want you, Jason. I love you. I don’t want to change you. And I would rather have a long-distance relationship while you work as a prostitute here in London than not have you at all.”
“But . . . why?”
“Why what?”
“Why me?”
“I think if I could explain that, then you’d be right in thinking this wasn’t real. But I can’t. There isn’t a why. I just love you.”
Jason exhaled, his shoulders sinking.
Blake smoothed Jason’s hair. “We don’t have to decide what to do this minute. All I wanted was for you to hear me out.”
Avoiding his eyes, Jason nodded. “I’m sorry. About last night. I should have—”
“I caught you off guard. And I . . . probably came on stronger than I should have.”
“Why did you?”
Blake hesitated. “Honestly, I was afraid I wouldn’t get the chance to tell you how I felt. I had no idea if you felt the same way, only that I needed you to know.”
“And if I hadn’t changed my mind?”
“Then I would have gone back to the States and let you go. I was on my way to the airport when I got your email.”
Jason released a breath. “It’s still hard to believe that someone exists who doesn’t think he’s entitled to me. Or wants to own me.”
“Believe it.” Blake pulled him into his arms and kissed his forehead. “As for where we go from here, we can play it by ear. One day at a time. It’s not something we need to wrap up in a bow this instant. Things happened fast up to this point. We can slow—”
“No.” Jason lifted his gaze, and finally, his lips curved into one of those little smiles that drove Blake crazy. “We’ll work out the details. But . . . I love you too.”
Blake was about to speak, but right then, Jason stood up on his toes and kissed him.
He couldn’t remember the last time a kiss stopped him in his tracks like this one. As if everything they’d said had just been words that meant nothing while they stood an arm’s-length apart, but were carved in stone the instant Jason’s lips met Blake’s.
God. Yeah. This is real, isn’t it?
Jason drew back and met his gaze, and they both smiled. Blake kissed him again, softly this time.
“My kitchen doesn’t have quite the right ambiance for this,” Jason murmured. “Maybe we should move to my bedroom.”
Blake met his gaze. “But I thought you didn’t bring men to—”
“I said I didn’t bring johns into my bed.” Jason tugged Blake toward the hall. “Let’s go.”
In the bedroom doorway, Jason stopped. “Wait.” He swallowed. “Before we . . .” He broke eye contact.
“Tell me,” Blake whispered.
“This time, I . . .” Jason met his gaze, and tentatively brought his hand up. Tracing Blake’s lower lip with his thumb, he said, “No money. The negotiation games are fine and good, and maybe we can go about them differently in the future or—” He gestured sharply. “Whatever. Not this time, though. I don’t want to cheapen this.”
“No money.” Blake wrapped his arms around him. “It hadn’t even crossed my mind, to be honest. I couldn’t put a price tag on this if I wanted to.” He touched Jason’s face. “All I want is you.”
“Me too.” Jason kissed him, gripping the back of his neck as if Blake had any inclination to be anywhere but here.
Blake pressed him up against the wall, clipping his elbow on the bookcase and rattling the cache of trophies. Neither of them missed a beat, though—nothing had fallen, and the vague tingle in his elbow was barely noticeable, especially over the increasingly distracting ache below his belt.
“Bed,” Jason murmured. “I want . . . We should . . .”
“Definitely bed.”