If It Drives (Market Garden, #7)(6)

He pushed himself up, and as he hooked his finger in the knot of James’s tie, their eyes met. James’s gleamed with the same hunger Cal felt. No, not quite the same. He was somehow more subdued than earlier. Heavy-lidded eyes, blissed-out smile; he was calmer, whereas Cal was getting more and more wound up by the second.

As Cal pulled the tie loose and the knot disintegrated into a slightly wrinkled ribbon of silk, James started unbuttoning his own shirt, his hand brushing Cal’s. He struggled with the buttons, but managed to get two, three, four undone.

“You should . . .” He licked his lips. “Yours . . .”

Cal glanced down, suddenly aware that he was still dressed. He pushed himself up, and with equally unsteady hands, started stripping off his own shirt. He tried not to think about the fact that he was now straddling James, who was lying across the couch, because then he couldn’t concentrate on buttons and getting his arms out of sleeves and complicated things like that.

Ignoring James’s hard-on wasn’t easy, though, not when it was so close to Cal’s that the slightest movement made their cocks brush through their trousers. He’d think about that in a moment. He’d focus completely on that and get lost in that and get all these f*cking clothes out of the way—are we really doing this?—but not until he’d figured out how to get these damned buttons to—

James tugged at Cal’s shirt, pulling it free from his waistband. His hands slid under the shirt, and Cal forgot what he was doing. His fingers were still on a button that was halfway through the buttonhole, but all he could think about was those warm hands sliding up his abs. He closed his eyes and pushed out a long breath, which only made things worse—better?—because his muscles moved under James’s gentle, exploring touch.

“Before we get too carried away,” James whispered, out of breath already, “maybe we should move this into the bedroom.”

Cal opened his eyes and looked down at him. “The bedroom?”

James nodded slowly.

Cal pushed the button through its buttonhole. As far as he knew, James never took any of his “companions” into his own bedroom. The morning after, they always emerged from one of the guest rooms.

The bedroom?

Something told Cal they were too carried away already.





Cal forced himself to break the contact and get up, still worried that James would tell him this was a terrible idea. He offered James a hand, and James took it, and the worry just evaporated because James kissed him again—first time he did it, too.

Bad idea or not, they were already in over their heads, so why the hell not? Cal nudged James back a step. “Upstairs.”

James didn’t let go of his hand as they headed upstairs, still touching, the current still going strong. One floor up, and the other one, too, to the bedroom that took over half the loft, exposed beams almost rustic up here. It was a bit more bare than the rest of the house—just a bureau, a bedside table, and a big old wooden bed.

James let his hand go as he moved backwards to the bed. “Should I get naked?”

Don’t mind if you do.

“Uh, sure.” Cal swallowed when James kicked his shoes off and pulled his trousers down, showing off the erection tenting his boxers. What Cal would give to mouth it through the fabric, tease him and make him come undone.

Better get undressed, too. While James got rid of his boxers and socks, and pulled back the duvet, Cal shed his own clothes, dropping them where he stood, too eager to feel and f*ck and kiss than to worry about things such as clothes and graceful exits.

James waved him forwards to the bed, and Cal got on it, on top of James who’d lain down in the center. He straddled James again, but this time, there was nothing between their cocks but friction and heat.

He lowered himself to kiss James again. James opened his legs, lifted them, but pushed up against him, rubbing and teasing. James’s hips seemed to be encouraging Cal’s to move, as if he wanted him to take over and thrust.

He wants me to f*ck him.

Cal broke the kiss. “You—”

“Fuck me.” James looked up at him, half-grinning, and it felt very much like an order. “As hard as you can. Fuck me all night.”

Cal narrowed his eyes. He pressed his cock against James’s hard enough to make him close his eyes and groan, and as James shuddered, Cal leaned down and whispered, “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

James’s eyes flew open. Disbelief. Confusion. “I . . .”

“Maybe I want you to do something for me first.”

A soft whimper slipped past James’s lips. “Anything.”

Cal grinned. Now this he liked. He lifted himself off James and moved onto his side. “I’m going to f*ck you. No doubt about that.” He moved his hand slowly, and James watched it, focusing intently, not even breathing. His lips parted when Cal closed his fingers around his own cock and stroked slowly, watching James’s eyes trace the movements.

“Before I f*ck you,” Cal said, his voice seeming to startle James out of a near trance, “I want you to suck my—”

James moved before Cal could even finish the sentence, and suddenly Cal was on his back with James’s lips around his dick. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to get his head around the amazing sensation, the hot, eager mouth working at his cock with more enthusiasm than anyone had ever had while sucking him.