If It Flies (15 page)

Spencer still had his guard up, but he nodded and gestured

at the chair across from him. Nick took the seat and folded his 109

arms on the table. He leaned over them, almost
hunched
over them, like he was cold and didn’t want anyone to know.

“Long time, no see,” Spencer said.

“I know.” Nick didn’t offer an explanation. He didn’t say a

bloody thing beyond the simple acknowledgement.

“So after two weeks, why are—”

“We should get out of here.” The words came out of

nowhere, as did the sudden, intense eye contact.

Spencer didn’t move, though. “You think I want to leave

with you? After you bolted out the door and disappeared for

two weeks?”

Nick lowered his gaze, and his lips tightened. It was hard

to tell in the low light, but Spencer was sure Nick’s cheeks had coloured. Without regaining eye contact, and speaking barely

loud enough for Spencer to hear him, Nick said, “I’m sorry.”

“For which part?”

The wince made Spencer almost regret the bitterness in

his tone. Anger still kept the upper hand.

Nick closed his eyes and exhaled. Finally, he looked at

Spencer again. “It startled me, okay? What happened last

time?”

“Startled you enough to—”

“I fucked up. I get it.” Nick couldn’t quite keep the

unsteadiness—nervousness?—out of his voice. “I’m sorry. It’s

just, that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“And how is going back to my place right now going to

make any of this better?”

“Because maybe it’ll give me a chance to pick up where

we left off.”

Spencer’s heart jumped into his throat. “I . . . what?”

Nick swallowed. He fidgeted, squirming like he wanted

to look anywhere except right at Spencer, but he didn’t break

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eye contact. “The mistake . . . my mistake was going away. And staying away.”

Spencer blinked.

This time, Nick did look down, focusing intently on

playing with the end of one of his black-painted nails, like there was a rough edge he was bound and determined to smooth

with only the pad of his finger. “Maybe I’m just stubborn, or a slow fucking learner, but it took until . . .” He paused, gnawing the inside of his cheek before he looked at Spencer through

those long lashes. “Until I saw you with another Dom. And

then I . . . God, this is hard. I never get jealous of another Dom. I don’t. But I could have murdered him for laying a

hand on you. And that just brought home what the whole

problem is, that night and all the fucking nights since then.”

Spencer folded his arms on the table and leaned forwards.

They were inches apart now. Either of them could bridge the

gap with ease, but they didn’t. “I’m still not quite following.

You just want to pick up where we left off. You want me to

trust you again like I did up until that night when you kissed me and then bolted.”

Nick winced again, looked down at his boots. Uneasy as

Nick seemed to feel, Spencer half-expected him to turn and

go, but Nick didn’t move. He stood his ground regardless of

the embarrassment, didn’t turn away and leave him, this time

for good. Why not?

Spencer went on, “You didn’t want to talk about this that

night. You told me we’d talk about it last Friday.” He shook

his head and started to sit back. “And now you want me to

cough up a grand for—”

“I don’t want your money.”

Spencer halted, having only widened the gap between

them by a couple of inches. “I beg your pardon?”

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“I don’t want your money.” Nick looked him straight in

the eyes. “I want you.”

“Me? What about me? You hardly know me.” Though his

stomach was fal ing out of his body and rapidly approaching

the core of the earth.

Nick stared at him, an echo of the old Nick, merciless and

cocky. This stare seemed annoyed, but Nick didn’t shut down,

didn’t tell him to go fuck himself. “I want you, Spencer. Your trust. Your surrender. Your courage. That’s all . . . strong stuff.

Felt like you were made for me—never freaked out, no bad

habits from some arsehole that I had to train out of you. You

went into it with everything, all out, and there was nothing

you wouldn’t have given me if I’d asked for it. That’s huge for me, Spencer. I’ve never really had that, and now that I’ve had it, I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to lose you, Spencer.”

Oh God. Oh dear Lord.

Spencer deflated, not sure how to take it. He’d have

preferred those words in between pain so he could actually

focus, could actually listen to every small inhale or exhale.

That Nick could need him seemed too much to comprehend.

Nick’s black-painted fingernails tapped rapidly on the

table. “I want to beat your shitty week out of you and give

you a new start. I want to fuck it out of you, clear your head so there’s nothing in there but me. The money doesn’t matter.

I want to do it for you. For me.”

Oh God.
Spencer was reeling, but Nick’s stare didn’t waver, nor did his voice. “I want to give you what I have, Spencer, and take everything from you. But that shit’s not easy when there’s money involved. The things I want to give you—you can’t buy

those. Nobody can. They aren’t for sale.” He swallowed hard.

“All of that scares the hell out of me. That’s . . . that’s why I left.

And I’m sorry for that.”

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Spencer rubbed his face. Nick’s intensity was turning him

on. Hell, Nick would never fail to turn him on, even hurt as

he was. Had been. He had no idea what he was anymore, just

that he believed Nick, and that some part of him was damn

near screaming with tension.

“All because of a kiss?”

Nick nodded. “Yeah, well. I don’t kiss. Sometimes I do. I

mean, it’s not that ironclad a rule. With you, it was that I liked it too much. I’d known from the start I’d have to keep you at

a distance because it would’ve been just too easy to tell you

those things. The . . .” He circled his hand, grasping for words.

“What I felt. You just weren’t like the others—you never

played power games, never second-guessed me, just rolled

with it from the start. You trusted me completely. And when

you asked me if I date, and I thought,
you, maybe
, and that thought kept coming back. And that’s dangerous, Spencer.

That’s really bad news in my job.”

Spencer flinched. There was that, wasn’t it? Nick’s job.

The conclusions they came to at this table wouldn’t change

how Nick paid his rent.

Spencer looked down at Nick’s arms, which were tightly

folded on the table again, six tense inches away from his own.

It was too much. Too fast. He’d come in here to forget about

Nick, and now . . . now this.

“Give me something, Spencer,” Nick whispered. “Throw

me a bone here.”

Spencer still didn’t move. He didn’t understand what was

happening. Or what he was supposed to do with it. The only

thing he did understand was this deep, raw relief that they

were finally having this conversation. No matter how much

it confused him and had his heart pounding, the relief was

there, and he couldn’t ignore it.

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But Nick had ditched him.

But Nick was, and would remain, a prostitute.

But he’d fucking disappeared for two bloody weeks and—

Spencer reached across the table. His hand hovered over

Nick’s arm for a moment, then settled on the back of his

forearm.

Nick exhaled.

So did Spencer.

Now what?

Nick slid one arm out from under the other and placed

his hand on top of Spencer’s. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t understand this any more than you do.”

Not a consolation, no, but honest. Spencer could take

honesty.

His mouth was dry. He cleared his throat. “What do we

do now?”

“I’m thinking—” Nick watched his fingers slide between

Spencer’s, capturing his hand one vulnerable spot at a time.

“—that we both suck at this.” His eyes flicked up again. “So

maybe we should go someplace where communication comes

a little more . . . naturally.”

“Is that a good idea?”

Nick’s hand tightened around Spencer’s, gripping firmly

but not uncomfortably. “At this point, I don’t even know

which way is up, never mind what’s a good idea and what’s

not. But I don’t know what else to do. And—” He pulled in

a deep breath. “—walking away just isn’t an option anymore.”

A shudder ran through Spencer, all the way down, and he

hooked his foot around the chair leg as his toes curled inside his shoes. “If that’s the case, maybe we
should
go.”

Some of the tautness in Nick’s expression eased. Then a

little more. Finally, he smiled, and Spencer’s bones liquefied.

God. Yes. Getting out of here was a good idea.

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Chapter

eleveN

he click of Spencer’s bedroom door seemed to echo for

T
miles.

He leaned against the door. Nick held his gaze. They

were a few feet apart now, but that void seemed narrower—

infinitely more passable—than the sliver of space that had

separated their arms on the table at Market Garden.

Nick set his shoulders back. He pointed at the floor in

front of his boots. “On your knees.”

Spencer hesitated, like he had that first time.

Communication? Or launching immediately into the most

intense exchange they could have? He took the step and knelt,

though he wished he didn’t have these thoughts whirring in

his head, the conviction that they’d resolved nothing and

were only plastering over the break.

Nevertheless, kneeling at Nick’s feet felt good. It felt right.

And—oh. Nick’s hand on his hair. That he knew. That

made sense. That was perfect. He pushed his head lightly into

Nick’s hand. Nick rewarded him by trailing his fingers over

Spencer’s hair.

It also meant that Spencer wasn’t supposed to speak, just

feel, just respond, just answer questions if they came.

Nick’s hand slid down to Spencer’s shoulder. He

crouched next to him. His face seemed oddly open, and he

came even closer, and the kiss was deliberate and tender, and

even more intense than last time because they were both calm,

the tension wasn’t blinding them, they were both sober and

aware and under control. This felt more like a promise than

115

a mistake. Spencer reached up on impulse, but hesitated, not

sure if he was allowed to put his hands on Nick.

But Nick was kissing him. He could.

So he grabbed Nick by the shoulders and pulled him

closer, still, he hoped, respectfully, but he needed to touch

him now, and if that meant he’d get the snot beaten out of

him, that was worth it.

Nick grinned into—but didn’t completely break—the

kiss. “You’re being naughty.”

An electric charge zinged immediately into Spencer’s

balls and tightened them with nervousness and anticipation.

“Sorry,” Spencer murmured. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“I’ll keep tabs on your punishment.” Nick drew back and

touched his temple with a finger, likely already adding up how often he’d hit Spencer, but Spencer really didn’t care at this point. As far as their scene was involved, any excuse to get

beaten worked for him.

Nick traced the side of Spencer’s face with a fingernail.

“I’m keeping this one . . . simple. I need to find my feet with what I want to do with you.”

“Rather than what I pay you for?”

“Has to do with that, sure. But really, I just want to make

it special. For you. And me.” Nick smiled, eyes alight with

that wicked ability to unnerve Spencer. “Blow your mind in a

different way.”

“I’m game. Whatever you want. I’ll get where you need

me to be, if you help me.”

Nick touched Spencer’s face again, trailed his lips with a

thumb, which tickled, but probably was meant to remind him

of the kiss they’d shared.

Spencer couldn’t wait to know what the sex and kink

would feel like when it was real—well, more real than it had

116

been. Nick had got off on what they’d done, no doubt, and

often, but that had been at least partly a performance, he

assumed.

What would the real Nick be like? The one who cared

about him. The man for whom he
was special and not just a meal ticket.

Granted, he knew very little about Nick. His personality.

His . . . did he even know what Nick really liked in BDSM?

Probably. Nick hadn’t
just
been lucky-guessing. It was doubtful that he did this for a living but preferred missionary-with-the-lights-out at home. He certainly didn’t lie back and

think of England on the job . . . What had he said? Had been

approached in clubs and kinda got into it. Sometimes they

offered him money, he’d said, so he’d gathered experience and

gone ful -time. Turned a hobby into a career.

“Haven’t done this in a while. Cared about somebody.

It’s weird.” Nick kissed him again, short but tender, and then pulled back. “I think I’ll like it, though. You. Me.”

“Well, you already have me on my knees,” Spencer joked.

“I do. But what happens next?”

Spencer swallowed. “You tell me.”

Nick’s lips pulled into a grin, and he trailed his fingers