“I crossed a line, and I shouldn’t have,” Thorne said.

Dash nodded. “I actually kind of liked it. But please don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” Thorne’s heart was beating impossibly fast. He should be thrilled by Dash’s response, but he was terrified. Anger would have been better because now he had hope that Dash felt more than lust for him.

“Thanks. I’ve never been with anyone who called me by my real name.”

“You mean any clients?”

“No. Not just clients. You’re not the only one who’s fucked up about relationships.”

Thorne was having a difficult time processing that. “Why would a gorgeous young man like you have such a problem?”

“I could ask the same thing. You’re hot as fuck, in great shape for an old guy, and—” Thorne threw a pillow at him.

Dash laughed as he caught it and tossed it to the floor. “You’re rich, successful.”

“Yes. Most people see those attributes,” Thorne agreed.

Dash nodded, obviously getting it then. “But they don’t see you?”

“I have a hard time letting anyone in, but I would’ve thought you’d have it easy.”

Dash shook his head. “I tried dating before I took this job. None of the men I went out with wanted what I wanted.”

“And what is that?” Thorne asked. “What do you want?”

Dash blushed, which Thorne found ridiculously endearing. “It’s dumb.”

Thorne hooked a finger under Dash’s chin and raised his head so Dash had to look at him. “No, it’s what you want. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s dumb.”

“It will sound crazy considering what I do now.”

“Who cares what you do? What you are is a beautiful, kind, talented young man whose job involves making closed-off, arrogant assholes like me understand that there is pleasure in the world and that letting go of their stuffy schedules on occasion is a good thing.”

Dash’s eyes widened. “Really? That’s what you see?”

Thorne nodded. “It is. So tell me. What do you want?”

“I want romance. True love. A fairy tale. I want to have a house. I want to cook for my husband. I want to build things together.” He shook his head. “God, I sound like a dork.”

“No, you don’t.” Thorne had dreamed of those things once himself. He’d dreamed of Clint leaving his wife, making a new life with Thorne. Then Clint had died, and Thorne had given up that dream.

“There’s someone out there who can build that dream with you,” Thorne said. Then he laughed at himself. “Wow. Now I sound like a fucking sap.”

Dash grinned. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

But Thorne had so many secrets, and the place inside where he used to keep them locked up was threatening to break apart.

CHAPTER ELEVEN