If It Drives (Market Garden, #7)(31)

“Being with . . .?” Cal raised his eyebrows.

James swallowed hard. “You.”

Goose bumps prickled their way down Cal’s spine. “You didn’t mind me telling you what to do.” He left off the lilt at the end so there was no mistaking the statement for a question.

James nodded.

“Answer me.”

“No,” James said quickly, his posture stiffening as if the sharp command had startled him. “No, I didn’t mind at all.”

Cal smiled. “I didn’t think so.” He let his gaze drift downwards, drinking in every inch of James, noting that his necktie was looser now. He imagined him tugging at it in the lift, or at the shop while he’d searched for the supplies Cal had demanded. As his gaze slid lower, Cal took in the way James’s chest rose and fell a little more rapidly than usual; he wasn’t out of breath per se, but breathing harder than normal. And just below that expensive leather belt, his trousers tented with a growing erection.

James shifted a bit, his fingers curling at his sides and his cheeks colouring again. Cal imagined he was struggling not to adjust himself or otherwise hide his hard-on.

Cal beckoned to him. Gulping, James took a step forwards. Then another. Now they were only a foot apart, if that, and Cal felt as nervous as James looked. He forced himself not to let it show.

“We have a hotel room,” he whispered, and just as he’d hoped, James leaned in a little to hear him better. “We have condoms and lube. Tell me, James. Why are we here?”

Before James could answer, Cal reached across the narrow divide and cupped James’s cock through his trousers.

James’s lips parted and he closed his eyes. “Shit . . .”

“Look at me.”

No response.

“Look at me.”

James’s eyes flew open, and though he seemed to be struggling, he obeyed.

“I asked you a question, James.” Cal ran his thumb along the outline of the man’s dick. “Why are we here?”

James licked his lips. “Because I wanted . . . I . . .” He shuddered as Cal’s thumb slid over the head of his cock. “Oh my God.”

“You wanted what?” Cal squeezed him through his trousers. “Answer me before I decide I want to go back to the house and—”

“Because I hoped you wanted more.” The words spilled out of James so quickly they were almost impossible to make out. His eyes widened. Slower now, he said, “I hoped . . . after this morning, I hoped you wanted more.”

Cal couldn’t keep himself from shivering. With his other hand, he reached for James’s neck, and he drew him down until their lips were nearly touching. “Oh, you’re right. I do want more.” James’s wide-eyed stare was all rabbit-in-the-headlights, their customary power dynamic completely reversed. Cal seemed to be the center of James’s perception, his attention, his world right now, which gave Cal a kick that fanned his own desire. Being wanted like that was heady stuff. Reducing James to stammering need—hot.

Their lips brushed, and James jolted as if he’d been touched with a live wire. Before James had a shot at thinking he was back on firm ground, Cal squeezed his cock painfully hard. James cringed, but didn’t break the kiss.

He’d seen Spencer cringe like that and still make no attempt to protect himself—like his body and mind had lost one vital connection, until Spencer had leaned into it with everything he was—all critical facilities seemingly switched off. Subspace? Nick had talked about how subs went to that special place in their heads, so maybe that was it. If James wasn’t there—he couldn’t be yet, could he?—then Cal thought he could get him there. Though he still wasn’t sure if he was out of his depth.

He’d play that part by ear. “Get naked. Now.” His voice was low and sharp, and it denied James the kiss he was looking for. Just another brush of lips, no true connection, not yet, though Cal hungered for it himself. Frustration, though. Frustration was a good thing.

James seemed undecided, so it was Cal who stepped back, which in turn seemed to release James from the spell he was under. James took a moment to recover, then remembered what he’d been ordered to do, and began to strip. Cal didn’t remove a thread. Relative position in the room, state of undress, height, tone—all ingredients to power. He’d been aware of it in a rational way, but when it became part of sex, no rationality survived. Everything became something of a science, or an art form.

Yeah, right, I could major in Domination Sciences. That’ll go down well with the world of academia.

James put the last of his clothes over a chair a couple feet away from him. Then he faced Cal, the down-up flick of his gaze and the renewed colour in his cheeks suggesting he was as acutely aware of his nudity—and Cal’s lack thereof—as Cal was.

Cal glanced at James’s fully erect cock, then met his eyes and grinned. James returned the grin, the expression somewhere between shy and aroused.

“Touch yourself.” Cal nodded emphatically towards James’s hard-on. “But don’t come.”

James hesitated. He closed his eyes for a second, lips tightening into a bleached line, but before Cal could warn him against disobeying, James wrapped his hand around his cock. From the first stroke, his brow furrowed. He bit his lip, and his breathing slowed, as if he were trying to control himself.