Page 15 of Mean Machine

“Do they physically abuse you?”

Such a genteel way to express it. “You’ve seen that twat with his sunglasses? Does he look like he’s there because he’s so pretty?”

“So he beats you?”

“I’m not enjoying it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, that wasn’t what I was asking. Does he hit you?”

“It’s rare. Not before a fight. I get punished differently.”

“How?”

Brooklyn pushed himself up onto his elbow. “Like any other prisoner. Isolation, getting my privileges revoked. The works.” And he wouldn’t give Nathaniel any openings to crack him. It would be much easier if Nathaniel just came over now and they’d segue straight into sex. Then he’d know what Nathaniel was after.

The man sat down next to him, touched his cheek, running two fingers along his jaw. “Does it hurt?”

“Only when I chew.”

“We’ll bear that in mind for dinner.” Nathaniel chuckled, his fingers trailing down the side of Brooklyn’s neck, tracing the muscle and then dipping into the hollow of his collarbone. Over the ridge of the bone, down towards the curve of his pec. “There’s a lot of power curled in here.”

“Punching comes from the legs and core,” Brooklyn corrected.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, thanks for the compliment, I guess.” Brooklyn sat up and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Considering what this costs you, I’m still not convinced this is all you want. You’re attracted to me. You paid for my time. I’d go out on a limb here and assume you’re not impotent or somehow fucked-up in a way that watching me sleep is your kink or something.”

Nathaniel stood up and crossed his arms too. “To be honest, the attraction is unexpected. That’s not why I booked your time—that happened by accident.” He took another step back and leaned against the wall opposite.

“You’re not into boxing either.”

“Not originally, no.”

“And you’re gay.”

“What gave me away? My dress sense?” Nathaniel’s lips curled in a smile, and there was a playfulness about him that made Brooklyn expect he’d strike some kind of diva pose. But he didn’t.

“Mate, the way you look at me, all that’s missing is fork and knife and a cloth serviette to wipe your chops.”

“Ah, yes. But see, sleeping with you isn’t why I had you brought here. I didn’t even know whether you’d be interested in another man.”

“And you care about that part?”

“I happen to care about such details, yes.” Prim and a touch prissy.

“So if I pretended I wanted to sleep with you, that would change things?”

Nathaniel watched him closely, seemed to draw only shallow breaths, then sighed. “Tempting, but that would only happen if there were a lot of alcohol involved—enough to dull my conscience. And if I’m that drunk, I’m no fun. I just fall asleep.”

Yeah, and I turn violent.Brooklyn couldn’t let it rest yet, though. “You know, what if sex is nothing but a deal? A transaction. I give you what I have, and you give me what you have in return.”

Nathaniel tilted his head somewhat, kept watching him with those clever dark blue eyes. “Is that what you believe?”

No. Sex is war.

Nathaniel smirked. “Thought so. What about this? I’ll get changed and we order dinner up to the suite?”

“I could eat.”

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