If It Drives (Market Garden, #7)(51)

“Right. But James is my employer. That complicates things a little.”

Nick smiled. “Spencer was my client. Talk it over with him, and see where it goes. Because this”—he nodded towards the table he was leaning against—“is obviously natural for both of you.”

“It is.” Cal returned the smile. “Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime.” Nick pulled out his mobile as he pushed away from the table again. “I’ll leave you to take care of him. You remember everything I told you about aftercare, right?”

Maybe not everything you told me, but definitely everything you showed me.

And hopefully James and I don’t f*ck up the afterglow. Again.

“Yeah, I remember. Thanks.”

“Good. I’m going to call a cab and show myself out.” Nick winked. “Spencer’s going to be waiting for me.”

“Have fun.”

“Always do.”

Nick slipped out a second before James emerged from the bathroom. James looked much more like himself, but he was still obviously ruffled. His hair was straighter, minus a few out of place strands. His shirt was untucked, which it never was. And his eyes—God, his eyes—were glazed and heavy-lidded, the pupils still blown.

Cal touched his arm. “How do you feel?”

James smiled. “I feel great.” Then he looked around. “Where’s Nick?”

“He’s gone for the evening.” Cal put his arm around James’s waist. “Why don’t we go up to the bedroom and relax for a little while?”

James leaned into him, softer, more affectionate than he normally was. Cal liked him that way. Liked him a great deal that way. With all of James’s defences blown apart, he seemed like his best self right now. “Come, let’s go.”

They climbed the stairs up to the ground floor and then further up to the bedroom. When James walked straight to the bed, Cal chuckled. “You can get more comfortable if you want.”

James nodded. He pulled his tie open and fiddled the cufflinks out, then placed both on the wardrobe and kicked off his shoes.

Cal shed his own shoes, too. When James lay down on the bed, Cal brought one of the bottles of water over, handed it to him, and then joined him on the bed. He could have slept—his body was tired and sated enough—but his mind was still chewing on questions.

How could he make everything else feel as natural as the domination and submission? They weren’t anywhere near boyfriends—this didn’t feel like a relationship at all, and from the outside, it probably looked incredibly strange. He was still getting paid by the man he f*cked. That would never stop feeling weird.

James took a few mouthfuls of water, then offered Cal the bottle. If he’d still been in submissive mode, he’d have offered Cal the bottle first. Did that mean something? Was that the line they kept crossing back and forth?

Cal took it. “If you want to talk . . .”

James shrugged and lay down. “Talk about which part?”

Everything. Maybe even feelings.

Cal took a mouthful of water. “First of all, thank you for your trust. It means a lot to me.”

James regarded him silently for a moment. “I just do, Cal. What I said—that was true. I do trust you. Never more than when you push me. I know you won’t make me fall.”

Oh, so he was still open. The walls weren’t back up. Maybe he shouldn’t take advantage of that. Maybe he should wait and then ram his head against the walls that had been put back in place. Or maybe not.

“I’ll never hurt you.”

“I know.”

Cal swallowed some more water, then put the bottle aside.

“Was there something else?” James asked.

Cal hesitated. “I . . . I don’t know if it needs to be addressed right now.”

“It’s bothering you, though.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“I know you.”

Do you?

Cal picked up the water bottle again and played with the cap, turning it back and forth just to occupy his hands. “Earlier, you said you trust me, and that’s why you don’t fight me as hard as you fight Nick.”

James shifted, sitting up a little and resting his head against the headboard. “Right.”

“So does that mean things are different between us?” He met James’s eyes. “That even though we’re doing the same thing you’ve done with Nick and the other rentboys, it’s . . . different?”

James broke eye contact and watched his fingers playing at the edge of the duvet. “I don’t know if it should be different.”

“Why shouldn’t it be?”

James shook his head. “I don’t . . . I don’t even know. What we were doing down there, yes, I want it. And I guess in some way, I need it. But I don’t know if I should be getting it from you.”

Ouch, James. He’d been in subspace just minutes ago, and now he was back to, well, James. Strictly business.

“You think it’s better to get it from someone you’ve hired?”

“I’m not even sure I’d word it like that.” James looked at Cal through his lashes. “But the rentboys, it’s just a financial transaction. I get that. I can let myself get lost in it for a night, and when it’s over, they’re paid and they’re gone and that’s that. There’s no shame.”