If It Drives (Market Garden, #7)(44)

James closed his eyes and shuddered. Cal grinned. He imagined Nick could come up with some creative things to do in there.

“Put some water down there.”

James nodded and got up, probably thankful for an excuse to move.

Cal was unaware of the huge billiards room being used for anything much, but since it was a cellar room, dug out from under the ancient house a few years ago, it was insulated from all angles. Maybe they could convert it into a proper dungeon, like the ones Cal had seen on the internet. Not like he’d recently spent way too much time surfing those websites while he should have been writing.

While Nick made do with the sturdy bedframe in his own house, Cal quite liked the idea of a St. Andrew’s Cross or a spanking bench. James was a lot more twitchy than Spencer, so maybe getting tied down would help him let go. On the other hand, Nick had told him he preferred it when Spencer didn’t move because he had told him not to. And Spencer obeyed beautifully.

But James? So many possibilities. They were only at the beginning, with wide open territory before them. Domination was nebulous, a mind-set. How to form it, shape it, and how to do it right? Thank God he had some guidance.

Speaking of which. The doorbell rang. Cal was tempted to let James get it, but he didn’t want James to face Nick alone. So he opened the door.

Nick. Tight leather trousers, shining boots, a black canvas bag slung over his shoulder, blond fringe falling into his brow. He was wearing a tight black T-shirt with EAT THE RICH across his chest, and Cal hoped he’d lose that before they got into playing.

“Hi, good seeing you. Come on in.”

Nick grinned. “And you. Nice outfit.”

“Thanks.” Cal followed Nick into the house. In the living room, Nick and James locked eyes, and were silent for a moment. Cal had no idea what had gone on between the two of them the last time Nick was here, but he had a feeling they were both mentally reliving it. James fidgeted. Nick’s expression was blank, revealing nothing about how he felt standing in front of James again. If he’d enjoyed the last time, if he was happy for the rematch, or if he was just a predator sizing up his prey.

After a moment, Nick gestured at Cal. “Do you like the way he looks, James?”

James nodded. “Yes, of course.”

As Nick had suggested, Cal was wearing what he usually wore at work. Black trousers—these were tailored. White shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but buttoned up almost completely. Polished leather shoes. All he needed was a uniform jacket and . . .

Nick glanced at him. “Something’s missing, though.” He snapped his fingers. “Gloves. You need gloves. Driver kink is nothing without gloves. Hell, maybe even sunglasses. Pilot shades, if you’ve got them.”

At the edge of Cal’s vision, James shuddered and ran a hand through his hair.

Cal swallowed. Apparently he had a lot to learn about this particular kink. “They’re, um, in the car.” He gestured at the foyer. “I’ll be right back.”

Nick nodded sharply. “We’ll be downstairs when you get back.”

Cal turned to go. He was halfway to the front door when he paused, wondering if this was a ploy to get him out of the room. Well, Nick was in charge, so Cal continued outside. He jogged around to the garage. The rarely worn gloves were in the car’s glove compartment, and his sunglasses—also not needed in this cloud-covered city—were in the console.

On the way back to the house, he put on the glasses and gloves. Now that he thought about it, he did recall James glancing at his gloved hands while he’d held open the car door one bitterly cold day. Or maybe he was imagining it. Fabricating a memory now that Nick had emphasised the connection between the gloves and the “driver kink,” which Cal wished he’d known about a long time ago.

Could’ve used that to my advantage, he thought with a chuckle.

When he stepped into the foyer, the ground floor was empty. He couldn’t see all the other rooms, but he could feel it. No voices, no movement, none of Nick’s presence vibrating off the walls.

The billiards room, then.

Cal headed downstairs. The billiards room was silent, but just as he’d known the ground floor was empty, he instantly knew they were down here, and when he stepped around the corner at the bottom of the stairs and into the room, it was only Nick’s voice in the back of his head—never show that you’ve lost even a little bit of control—that kept him from stopping and gasping.

Nick was standing beside the pool table, cue in hand. His grin looked more devilish—closer to downright evil—than it had ever been when Cal had watched him with Spencer.

And beside him, bent over the billiards table with his arms stretched out to the sides, looking equal parts puzzled and aroused, was James.

While neither man was looking at him, Cal granted himself a startled gulp, but nothing more. Then he schooled his expression and his posture, determined to be as calm and controlled as Nick.

“Allow me to make a slight correction,” Nick said to James. “I’m in charge, but you’ll be taking your orders from him.” He gestured at Cal with the cue.

James’s eyebrows rose. He slowly looked Cal up and down, his lips parting slightly.

Cal reached up with a gloved hand and tugged at his sunglasses. James shivered. Oh yes, this was going to be fun. The sunglasses were a clever addition; they’d help mask any insecurity. Same with the gloves. He might sweat inside them, but James wouldn’t be able to tell. Until Cal had gained the same level of badassness as Nick—unlikely as that was—he had to pretend he was already there.