If It Drives (Market Garden, #7)(43)

“But you want me to explain why I went to Nick to find out how to give you what you need.” Cal paused, reminding himself not to let any defensiveness seep into his tone. “And why that doesn’t make me a whore.”

James winced. “You’re not, Cal. You’re not. I’ve never thought of you that way.” He locked eyes with Cal. “I don’t know what this is”—he gestured at himself, and then Cal—“but you’re not my whore.”

“Do you want me to stop going to Nick, then?”

James shifted, leaning over his elbow on the armrest in what may have been a failed attempt to look relaxed. “I . . .”

“Yes or no.” Cal kept his voice gentle, though he wanted to demand the answer. “If what you want from me is different from what you want from them, then there’s no reason for me to keep going.”

James chewed his thumbnail, eyes losing focus for a long moment. “Has he taught you much?”

The question—the fact that James was even a little bit intrigued—relaxed a few taut muscles in Cal’s neck and shoulders. “He’s certainly opened my eyes to a few things.”

James’s eyebrow arched. “Such as?”

“How to hurt someone without actually hurting him.”

A shiver ran through James. “Oh. I see.”

“But if you don’t want this . . .”

“Well, I . . .” James fidgeted again. “Hypothetically, how would this arrangement with Nick work? If, say, we had him . . . join us.” He gulped. “What exactly would that entail?”

Cal couldn’t help grinning. “I think we both know exactly what it would entail.”

James’s eyebrows rose. “Humour me.”

“Think about it.”

“I have no—” James halted abruptly. Then he closed his eyes as a shudder went through him, one that might have been equal parts arousal and oh, f*ck . . . “Whatever the f*ck Nick wants.”

“Exactly.” Cal’s humour waned. “So, are you saying you want to?”

James tensed again. “I’m curious, I’ll admit that.”

“It’s one night. We don’t have to do it again, and it can stop anytime.”

James’s eyes unfocused, and he was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. “All right. Okay. One night.”

Cool relief rushed through Cal’s veins. “Okay. I’ll set it up.”

“Good. Good.” James scratched the back of his neck, and then turned to Cal again. “So what about tonight?”

Emotional ping-pong. From fear, tension, to humour, anticipation, and now gut-wrenching desire in less than half an hour. “I could stay. You want me to?”

James nodded. “Take my mind off the paperwork. It was a rough week.”

I know, Cal thought with compassion. “I want to”—God, did he ever—“but I think I’m maybe too exhausted to do much tonight.”

James nodded. “I could set up the Jacuzzi and get a nice bottle of wine and we can relax. Nothing too strenuous, just . . .” He waved his hand.

That sounded perfect. Cal didn’t have the energy left to attempt to top him or order him. Considering how part of the day had gone and how he’d expected to lose his job, relaxing with James, a Jacuzzi, and some wine sounded great.

And he hoped to God that tomorrow would allow them to move forwards.





There was no coffee the next evening, but Cal didn’t need it. He didn’t imagine James did either, but he suspected the man might be itching for a glass of wine, or maybe a hit of that finely aged Scotch he loved so much.

None of that, though. Nick had issued some explicit rules for the evening, and one of them was no alcohol. Not a single drop.

Cal wasn’t sure if that was a standard thing, or if Nick was just f*cking with James. He let Spencer have a little wine sometimes before they played. He’d usually met his clientele in a bar, after all.

But he was clear about tonight: no alcohol.

And without a drop in his system and Nick on the way, James was restless. Waiting in the living room, dressed precisely as instructed—he will wear the red tie, Nick had ordered—he couldn’t sit still. Cal watched him from the couch, and though he didn’t say anything, he was surprised James hadn’t pulled out his phone or even his laptop to catch up on emails or work. He always did that when he was wound up.

Not this time, though.

James glanced at his watch.

Three minutes later, he did it again.

Not two minutes after that, again.

“Take it off.”

James turned to Cal. “What?”

“The watch.” Cal gestured at it. “Take it off.”

The question was etched across James’s forehead, but he did as he was told, and when Cal motioned for it, he placed the watch in Cal’s outstretched palm.

Cal reached back and set the watch on the table behind the couch. The metal clicked quietly on the wood, but the sound seemed to echo through the huge living room. Now that it was sitting behind him, just a few inches away, Cal could hear it ticking. All too aware of the seconds slowly scraping past, he could barely keep himself from glancing at it like James had been doing.

“Nick said we should make sure there was some water handy.” He turned to James. “We should put a few bottles in the bedroom.” He paused. Though he was in charge, this was James’s turf, and Cal had noticed the rentboys rarely if ever went near James’s bedroom. Maybe that was sacred ground. “On second thought, downstairs. The billiards room.”