“Traffic is heavy this morning,” Cal said through gritted teeth. “We should go.”
For a moment, he thought James would push the issue, but he just stood there, looking bewildered and perhaps struggling to comprehend what Cal had said.
“Mr. Harcourt.” Cal motioned towards the car. “We should go, sir.”
“Right. Sure.” James stepped into the car, and as soon as the door was shut, Cal swore under his breath. He didn’t feel any better for having got that off his chest, and he doubted he would feel better until he didn’t have to think about this. That meant not talking about it, and it definitely meant not having these uncomfortable moments with James.
Uncle Bill, please find someone soon.
When James came out of his meeting, Cal was waiting as always.
“Where to, sir?”
“To Jermyn Street. Another meeting at three.”
Cal checked his watch. It wasn’t even one o’clock yet. Good. Plenty of time.
They were halfway there when the privacy screen opened.
“Change of plans, Callum.”
“Yes, sir?”
“We’re near Hyde Park, yes?”
“Ten minutes away, sir.” Too close to Knightsbridge and all its fancy hotels by far.
“Find a place to park near there.”
“Yes, sir.” Cal supposed that was better than James’s usual method of blowing off steam. Sometimes he walked when he needed to think, and a walk around the park lacked the implications of a trip to Market Garden.
Cal drove them to Hyde Park, and found a spot he could occupy for the hour or so James would likely spend wandering paths and watching squirrels. “We’re here, sir.”
“Good.” James took a breath. “I’d like you to come back here. Sit with me for a few minutes.”
Cal suppressed the urge to bang his forehead on the wheel. “Sir, I really don’t—”
“Please. I only want to talk. After this, I’ll let the subject go.”
Cal chewed the inside of his cheek for a second, then killed the engine. He raised the privacy screen again, and went around to the passenger side. Hand on the door, he hesitated. Was this a bad idea? Probably. But if it meant dropping the subject and never touching it again, then he could endure the discomfort.
He opened the door and slid inside. He sat opposite James, trying not to think about the last time they’d faced each other inside these same close quarters.
James folded his hands in his lap and fixed his gaze on something out the window. “I spent this morning’s meeting thinking about what you said.”
Cal swallowed. “And?”
“And I wanted to apologise. I’ve made you feel like a whore. I’ve made you feel . . .” He grimaced. “Disposable.”
Yeah. That word about summed it up.
“The other night was overwhelming,” he continued. “It was everything I needed, and then afterwards, I . . .”
“You wanted me to leave.” Cal folded his hands too. “It’s really that simple.”
“No, it’s not.” James finally faced him. “Things are different with you than they’ve ever been with Nick or any of the other rentboys. I’ve known that from the beginning, but I guess it scared me. I didn’t understand it.”
“I still don’t.” Cal realised a second too late how snarky that sounded. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“No, it wasn’t.” James squared his shoulders. “I shouldn’t have made you leave the other night. I just didn’t realise . . .”
He was silent for a long moment. Cal faintly heard one of their watches ticking softly in the background, marking every second that passed with a quiet scratch.
Then James unbuckled his seat belt. Cal’s heart rate shot up. What the hell was he doing?
James slid forwards on the seat. Then he lowered himself. One knee on the floor. Then the other. He reached for Cal’s hands, and his warm touch simultaneously made Cal want to shove him away and caused that damned lump to rise in his throat again.
Finally, James spoke. “What we did the other night, I needed it. And the fact that you went so far as to have Nick show you, and to learn what it was, that . . .” He shook his head. “I still can’t imagine why you’d do that for me. But what I do know is that it boils down to this.” He squeezed Cal’s hands. “I need the domination. I need to be topped.” He put his other hand under Cal’s, and Cal was sure the man’s eyes teared up as he whispered, “But I want you.”
That wetness in his eyes did more than the words. “You . . . you barely know me.”
“After eighteen months, I don’t think that’s quite correct.” James stared at the floor. “I know what kind of books you read while you wait. I know that you’re the kind of man who’ll go out of his way to help others, somebody who’s patient, and who watches carefully. You’re a pretty deep guy, Cal. Caring. Kind. Trustworthy.”
“I snapped at your client.”