“Of course I am,” Nick said quickly. “I’m maybe a bit burned out, but . . .”
Again, Spencer was quiet for a moment. “I think we need to acknowledge the fact that it’s unhealthy, the amount of stress on both of us right now, whether it’s because either of us needs to make a change in our professional lives or not.” Definitely the lawyer talking here, and he unflinchingly held Nick’s gaze. “I don’t want this”—he gestured at himself and then Nick—“to be the reason for that.”
Nick’s heart jumped. “Meaning?”
Spencer didn’t answer immediately. He took a deep breath, released it slowly, and only then did he say, “It means we need to take care of ourselves. And each other. And if it comes down to it, make some difficult decisions.”
The flutter of panic in Nick’s chest unsettled him; he didn’t like that feeling. That sense that he was rapidly losing control of a situation, which made him want to not just regain control, but grab it in a chokehold. He swallowed. “It’s way too early to be choosing between this and our jobs.”
Spencer nodded. “But sooner or later, something’s going to have to give, and I just think we ought to be aware of that.”
“Right,” Nick said with a nod. “As it stands right now, I don’t want to change a thing.” Especially this. Please, not this.
“Neither do I.” Spencer paused, still cradling his wineglass, and smiled a little. “I want to get rid of the stress, not the stress relief.” He winked, and laughed softly, which settled some of that fluttery feeling in Nick’s chest.
Nick managed a soft laugh himself. “I don’t want to change this either. We’ll . . . we’ll figure everything out.”
“I know. I just want to make sure it’s all out on the table. So we can figure it out together.”
“Agreed,” Nick said quietly. “And while we’re putting everything out on the table, I should mention that at times, I’ll have a bad day. Normally, I don’t really mingle right after a night like that. I need space when things go wrong. To regroup. It’s not to get away from you, though.”
Spencer nodded again. “Understood. That can happen in my job, too. And it doesn’t help that when things get intense in the office, I might not even come home. Hell, I have slept in my office some weekends.”
“I’ve heard stories like that. That’s fine. We both have demanding jobs.” Spencer traced the foot of his wineglass with a fingernail. “There’s no reason why this shouldn’t work, though. We manage . . . sexually.”
Not just manage. Sexually, they were hand in glove, Spencer so natural as his sub that Nick’s pulse sped up just thinking about that. Normal life, though? That was something entirely different.
“Well.” Nick drained his wineglass—there wasn’t much left by this point—and set it back on the table. “All we can do is take it one day at a time.”
A grin played at Spencer’s lips. “And the nights?”
Nick returned the grin. “If they ain’t broke . . .”
They finished eating, and Spencer cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen, insisting that Nick not lift a finger. He seemed amused when Nick hoisted himself onto the counter, perching there while Spencer did the scrubbing and drying, and three times, Nick caught him stealing a glance at the front of his trousers. All the more reason to sit up there, Nick decided.
But stealing glances and exchanging comments over domestic chores didn’t exactly segue into the way Nick and Spencer had spent most of their time together since the first night Spencer had hired him. Before long, they were hovering in the kitchen. Nick was still sitting on the counter, boots crossed at the ankles and hands resting on the edge, and Spencer was drumming his fingers beside the sink. They were one “So . . . now what?” away from shit getting awkward.
“So . . .” Nick tapped his fingertips on the counter’s edge. “You’re off for a few days. Maybe I’ll take Monday off too.”
Spencer’s eyebrows jumped. “Really?”
“We could, um, spend the day together.” Nick thought he was going to choke on the words, and he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he’d suggested they move in together in the morning and fill out civil partnership paperwork over lunch. He cleared his throat. “You know, have a day without our jobs killing us.”
Spencer smiled. “I like that idea.”
Nick nodded, but said nothing. He’d run it by Market Garden’s owner tomorrow night, and that thought was like a ball of lead in his gut. Not because he thought he’d be turned down—Frank was usually telling him he needed to take time off—but because of the reminder of where he’d be tomorrow night versus where he was now. Of his job. Fuck.
He cleared his throat again. “So what about tonight?”
Spencer swallowed. “Yes, tonight.” He locked eyes with Nick, and there it was again: that submissive look and its unspoken question.