Page 16 of Mean Machine

“Good. I’ve come in right after work, so I’m starving.” Nathaniel turned, pulled his shirt from his trousers and unbuttoned it, his back turned towards Brooklyn. Such a childishly modest gesture, but still, Brooklyn watched as he shed the shirt.

Tanned shoulders, sculpted rather than powerful, even though the man clearly had strength. He was no match for a heavyweight, but he certainly liked the gym. Not a tattoo or scar anywhere.

Nathaniel balled the shirt in a fist and turned again. “I’ll grab a shower. The hotel menu is on the table in the lounge. If you’d order me the chicken Caesar and whatever you want to eat, that would be great.”

“All right.”

“I assume your guard can feed himself. What is the proper way to do this?”

“I frankly don’t give a fuck.”

“Ah, then we’ll assume he’ll look after himself.” Nathaniel raised his hand for a little wave and vanished in the direction of the bathroom.

THETAP-TAPof a laptop keyboard was the first thing Brooklyn was consciously aware of. He turned in bed, saw the malignant red glow of the alarm clock. Eleven. He was ravenous. And he must have been tired to sleep through all his normal routines.

He trotted off to the bathroom and spotted Nathaniel, who was sitting at the dining table, positioned so he could watch Brooklyn sleep. The white Apple logo glowed on the brushed aluminium of the laptop.

“Ready for breakfast?”

“Fifteen minutes.” That was the time it took to get showered, towelled, and his teeth brushed. Actually, it was fourteen and a half, but he made a thirty second allowance for finding his way around the miniature hotel shower gel bottles. He considered getting back into his clothes, but the sight of the enormous soft bathrobes settled it.

Nathaniel glanced up from the computer and shut it—almost. “You looked so tired I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Why would you?”

“What? Wake you up? You’re more fun awake than asleep.” Nathaniel leaned forward.

“Fun.” Brooklyn huffed. “Without even fucking me?”

“Has it occurred to you—” A knock at the door. Nathaniel got up and let the waiter and his little cart in without paying him any attention. “That fucking you might not even be on the agenda?”

The waiter’s movements sped up markedly, his ears turning red.

“But you want to,” Brooklyn said, feeling cruel. “For all I know, you’re just trying to win my trust for some hard-core BDSM shit.”

The waiter looked up with what bordered on despair, trying to meet Nathaniel’s gaze. Nathaniel nodded and waved him off without giving him even a moment. “That’s all.” He stepped closer to Brooklyn. “Like many things in life, what I want and what I do are not necessarily the same all the time. I’ll be completely honest with you there—I don’t mind a bit of power play.” The intensity in the dark blue eyes made Brooklyn’s guts coil and his balls tighten. Nathaniel’s lips quirked into a smile, as if he knewexactlywhat Brooklyn was feeling.

The door closed, but neither of them moved. On Brooklyn’s part, it was a trained response, to be respectful and tread lightly, which meant he wouldn’t get beaten or returned to prison. But the rich and powerful still got to him, which only made him want to strangle Nathaniel. Or possibly fuck him, to break the tension between them.

Nathaniel inhaled deeply, nostrils twitching. “And?”

“What?”

“Will you punch me?” Nathaniel didn’t smile, didn’t mock him, but there was a tinge of humour. “Or are we done for this time?”

“That’s your call,” Brooklyn said, moving closer, noticing how Nathaniel’s lips parted, ever so slightly. For all his nonchalant control, the man wanted him. “You pay for my time even though you still haven’t told me why. I’m not a friend; I’m not a fuck. I’m not even a dirty fantasy. So what am I?”

“Right now? You’re a caged tiger and not to be trifled with.”

“I’m flattered.”

“The very fact you’re flattered means you’re not ready.”

Brooklyn laughed. “Right. So you’ll book my time after each fight, we eat something, we go to separate beds to sleep and then have breakfast? Oh, and maybe you’ll touch me, but never in any way that would be out of order in a petting zoo. No whips and chains from you, Mister.”

Nathaniel regarded him in silence and then turned away. Brooklyn wasn’t sure whether the man was struggling for control or actually that blasé. He wanted to fight that control, break it. See him flustered, vulnerable, honest.

Love me rough, baby.

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