If It Drives (Market Garden, #7)(61)

“I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

James smiled. “You don’t get to my place in the hierarchy by being completely blind.”

Cal felt some of the tension bleed away. He believed what James was saying, could feel it in the slightly damp grip of his hand. “I thought you didn’t care.”

“I did, but I needed time to come round to it. I didn’t want to rush it, didn’t want to take advantage, and I absolutely couldn’t share with you what I needed. Maybe I didn’t want to sully you with it. Maybe I didn’t expect you to accept it. I was playing it too safe, and almost ruined it, but you broke through my defences. And then I realised I don’t need them. They were crutches. Suddenly my carefully constructed way of balancing my needs and wants and my life all came tumbling down. It was too much to take in, and I do my best thinking on my own. I was scared. That’s why I sent you away.” He exhaled, his shoulders sinking a little. “And I’m sorry for that. All of it.”

Cal stared at him for a moment, trying to process everything he’d said. “What do . . . what do we do? I mean, how much do you want out of this?”

“I’m not sure. I’m honestly afraid of asking too much.”

Cal stroked the back of James’s hand. “Try me.”

James moistened his lips. “I just want you. Whatever comes with you. If you’re not comfortable topping me like that, then I won’t ask you to. If you don’t want a relationship, I won’t ask for one. But I . . .” He lowered his gaze, watching their hands.

Cal touched James’s chin and lifted it, forcing James to look him in the eyes like Nick had done to him. “You what?”

James gulped. “I don’t want to ask for more than you’re willing to give. But, Cal . . .” He reached up and touched Cal’s face, his palm warm, unsteady, and slightly damp. “I love you, and I don’t want you to go.”

Cal’s heart nearly stopped. He found just enough air to whisper, “You do?”

James nodded.

Cal slid his hand from James’s chin to the side of his neck, drew him closer, and kissed him. He didn’t even care about the particulars, about how they’d ultimately define this relationship. James had said what he’d wanted to hear more than anything else.

I don’t want you to go.

Cal touched his forehead to James’s. “I’ll stay.”

The relief in James was palpable. The rush of breath. The way his entire body relaxed all at once. “Thank you.” He kissed Cal lightly, cautiously, as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to, and Cal pulled him closer.

Again it was Cal who broke the kiss, but he kept his hand on James’s neck as he drew back. “This could get a little complicated. With me working for you.”

“I don’t care.” James took Cal’s hand and kissed his palm. “I really, really don’t care.” He met Cal’s eyes again. “We’ll do whatever we have to. If you don’t want to drive for me anymore, if you don’t want to stay in the cottage . . .” He gestured dismissively with his other hand. “Whatever we have to do. But I want to make this work. Ever since you told me you were leaving, that’s all I’ve been able to think about. That I needed to make things right with you. That I want to make this work.”

Cal kissed his forehead, and paused there for a moment just to savour the tender touch. “We’ll make it work.”

James released another relieved breath. In the handful of intimate moments they’d shared before this one, James had never been so raw. Neither had Cal. Only minutes ago, he’d been ready to brush off any pleas and excuses James came up with, but holding him like this, he believed him. He knew James meant every word.

And though he wasn’t entirely sure how, he knew damn well they’d find a way to make this work. Ever since he’d topped James, the power between them had shifted, had become more equal.

Maybe he could stay the driver—and laugh that stupid saying in the face. It was not cheaper to rent, whatever an arrogant banker thought. In this case, the renting thing had almost cost too damn much.

Driving would be an excuse to be close to James, to look after him like he had before. He’d need a driver anyway, and Cal trusted himself with the job again. It’d mean another adjustment to their dynamic, and a huge one, but no different, he guessed, than if he were James’s PA—a job he imagined to be so stressful that he wouldn’t want it. It would most definitely kill any hope of finishing his book.

Cal pulled James closer again and kissed him, and the way James opened up to him made him glad that he was, in fact, staying. He’d have missed all this, the trust and surrender James promised with nothing more than his teeth and lips, and which he took with nothing more than his own teeth and lips and tongue—and soul.

The pain bled away. The resentment—gone. The confusion—yep, gone. Suddenly everything was so much clearer, thoughts and mind and emotions. There was something he could look forward to, a challenge he could accept, knowing he had all the tools to win out. They had a shot at this. Chemistry had never been a problem. Chemistry and sex were easy. They had trust, and honesty, and even love.

“Before we get into territory where it’s hard to focus . . .” Cal smiled. “I think I did like you on your knees.”