No, I’m paying him for sex not for dessert. I don’t need anyone.

Are you sure? That little voice in his head was dangerous.

Dash is an escort. This isn’t a date.

“So I guess you require another shower now,” Thorne said, needing to stop the thoughts in his mind.

Dash laughed. “I’ll just clean up and go if that’s what you want.”

“I… Yes, I need to work.” He did but… No, he wouldn’t ask Dash to stay the night. He didn’t do sleepovers.

Dash kissed the top of his head, the gesture sweet and caring. It felt more intimate than anything else that had happened.

Dash picked up his clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. Thorne never should’ve let him stay. Stick to a schedule, that’s how he got so much done. Once a person started deviating, that’s when things got fucked up. Expectations change. Slacking off becomes the norm, and everything falls apart.

Or you work yourself to death and die of a heart attack before you hit forty-five. Which is worse?

Thorne used the blanket from the couch to clean himself off and then pulled on some shorts and a T-shirt. He’d shower again later before bed.

Dash is in there. You could join him.

No. Enough is enough. Though if he were honest, Thorne wasn’t sure he’d ever have enough of Dash. The man was a whirlwind, and Thorne couldn’t say no to him. That should worry Thorne more than it did.

He tried to turn off the part of his brain that had jumped on the Team Dash bandwagon, but he’d barely written a paragraph before Dash exited the bathroom. He didn’t speak at first, probably trying not to disturb Thorne. He gathered his things, including the bottle of lube that lay on the floor by the couch.

“So I guess I’ll be going,” Dash said when his bag was packed up. He lingered in the entryway. Was he hoping Thorne would change his mind and ask him to stay? He looked like he wanted to, but of course he would, since he’d make more money that way.

“Yes, thank you.”

“I’d love to see you again.”

“Would you now?” Thorne asked.

Dash looked down, submissive again, teeth sunk into his lip.

Fuck, he knows what that does to me. “Next week. Same time. I’ll call to confirm the appointment.”

“Lovely. See you then.”

Dash was gone before Thorne could say anything else. The apartment suddenly seemed very large and very quiet.

Quiet is good. I like quiet.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Riley, can you hand me a spatula?”

“Sure,” Riley Dashwood searched the counter. Where had he left the spatula? Oh, there it was. He passed it to Susan.

She scraped down the sides of the mixer and added an egg to the Italian-cream-cake batter.

“How are we doing on time?” Riley asked.