If It Drives (Market Garden, #7)(39)

Spencer laughed and rested a hand on Nick’s leg, but didn’t say anything.

“I’ll talk to him,” Cal said. “And see what he says.”

“Perfect.” Nick paused. “But as long as you’re here, and we have this wonderfully masochistic and willing sub”—his gaze slid towards Spencer, who shivered—“I’m sure I can still show you a thing or two.”

Cal gulped. “Masochistic? What exactly did you have in mind?”

Nick slowly turned so he was facing Spencer. “Oh, I don’t know.” He trailed a fingertip up Spencer’s arm. “Have you ever heard of an evil stick?”





Friday night came at the end of a tough week for James. Cal knew the rhythm by now. It was usually the build-up to a business deal, something high-stakes and high-stress. At least it wasn’t bad enough for James to head into the office on Saturday or Sunday. Not yet. But he had worked so hard and long for the last few days—his home office light had been on until all hours of the morning every night this week—that Cal could feel the tension rising. This build-up always meant it was only a matter of time before James told him to drive to Market Garden.

So it was high time he stopped it.

On the way back from the City, Cal glanced in the rearview at James, who was checking his phone. “James, do you have a moment?”

James frowned, then put the phone away, perhaps surprised that Cal hadn’t called him “sir.” It did get his attention, just like it had during that first drive that had turned kinky. “I do. What’s on your mind?”

“I hope you don’t have any plans for tomorrow.”

“I can make some time.”

“Afternoon and night?”

“Yes.” James pushed forwards in his seat. “Anything particular you have in mind, Cal?”

“I do.” Cal fell silent, navigating a turn. “I’ve been hiring some help.”

“What kind of help?”

“Some guidance. I’ve been taking, uh, I guess you could say I’ve been taking lessons. In BDSM.”

James’s mouth opened. They still hadn’t spoken about that night in the hotel room, what it meant. Never mind what either of them wanted out of this. The most recent evening with Nick and Spencer had confirmed one thing, though: Cal was okay with causing pain, though it was strange to inflict it on gentle, sweet Spencer. Counterintuitive to punish somebody who’d done absolutely nothing wrong.

He hasn’t done anything wrong, but he deserves it, Nick had said.

In that sense, maybe it worked. Inflicting pain didn’t do much for him—Cal’s enjoyment had come from Spencer’s responses. Nick, of course, was wired totally differently. He certainly wasn’t out to harm Spencer, and genuinely cared about his pleasure and well-being, but he needed to cause pain and be in control to be satisfied. Cal didn’t need either of those things unless James needed to be on the receiving end of them.

“Callum?”

Cal cleared his throat and pretended he’d been concentrating on driving. “To be honest, I had a feeling you needed something that first night we were together. More than just sex, I mean. So I, um, went looking. To find out what that was and how to give it to you.”

James’s breath caught. “Why not ask me?”

Because I wasn’t sure even you knew.

Cal forced himself not to gulp or otherwise show that he was nervous. “I didn’t want to suggest that I could do it, and then find out I was in over my head.” Yeah, because that hasn’t happened anyway. “So I wanted to learn about it first.”

“I see.” James didn’t sound upset or irritated, at least. “When you say you asked, uh, who did—” He stopped abruptly. Leather creaked. Movement from the corner of his eye grabbed Cal’s attention, and he realised James had rested his elbow in the open privacy window, leaning a little closer to him. “Please tell me you didn’t talk to Irina about this.”

“What? No. No! Of course not.”

“Then . . .?”

Cal took a breath. “I went to Market Garden.”

“Oh.” Pause. “Oh.” James drew his arm back. “And you’ve been getting, uh, lessons, you said?”

“Sort of. Just some pointers from someone who knows what he’s doing.”

A long silence set in. Then, “Who?”

Cal focused on the street in front of him, ignoring the temptation to glance in the rearview. “Nick.”

“You . . . Nick?” James sputtered. “Oh God. You’ve been— Wait, I didn’t think he was working there anymore.”

“He’s not.” Cal tapped his thumbs on the wheel. “The owner of the club, he helped me get in contact with him.”

“And he’s been teaching you.”

“Basically.”

James let out a long breath. “Nick isn’t cheap.”

“I know.”

“But you’ve . . . you’ve been going to him and learning all of this? For my benefit?”

Cal nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Because you need it.

Because I need you.

Cal’s thumbs stopped tapping, and he gripped the wheel tighter. They were almost home, the driveway nearly in sight. Cal’s stomach wound in knots. He hadn’t even broached the subject of bringing Nick over, and already the conversation was unbearably awkward.