His Wicked Games (His Wicked Games #1) (16 page)

I thought my last climax was a big one, but
it's nothing compared to the ecstasy that suddenly explodes through
my flesh. I shake with the force of that violent wave, lost to
everything but the pleasure coursing between us, wild as the storm
outside.

Calder curses again and gives a hard, deep
thrust. His body goes rigid on top of mine, and then he shudders as
release pours through him as well. After a moment he leans back and
slides my legs off of his shoulders, and then he lowers himself
gently on top of me. I can feel the galloping of his heart against
my own, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders.

It’s too easy, like this, to forget how much
I hate him. To forget that I’m supposed to be in control of myself
and my emotions and this situation. To forget why I came here, and
why I stormed out to the car in the first place.

But I don’t care. I don’t care about anything
but the warmth of his breath against my ear and the softness of his
skin against my own.

Here, right now, that’s enough.

<<>>

A little while later, when my body starts to
cool down, I realize my feet are getting wet. Calder never bothered
to close the car door, and now our tangled legs and feet are
dangling out in the rain. But I have a hard time rousing myself. I
just want to lie here with Calder's weight on me and his lips
against my neck. In here, it's easy to ignore the problems of the
outside world.

It's Calder who finally moves, but only to
prop himself up on his elbows and stare down at me.

“Well,” he says, his voice still ragged,
“that was something.” His dark eyes roam over my face. “I didn't
hurt you, did I?” His own lips are swollen from my teeth, and I'm
filled with a wicked sense satisfaction at the lingering evidence
of our wild coupling.

“Only if you count the good kind of pain,” I
whisper.

The corner of his mouth curls up, and he
sweeps a strand of sweat-soaked hair away from my forehead before
leaning down and brushing his lips against mine. Now that we're no
longer in the throes of passion, I notice the faint metallic taste
of blood in his kiss. He notices it, too, for he pulls away and
touches his bottom lip gingerly.

“A bit of a biter, aren't we?” he says.

My cheeks go hot, but this time I don't turn
away from his gaze. I'm not ashamed of myself for getting a little
rough.

And neither is he. He reaches out and rubs
his thumb along my neck. “Ready to go again?”

“What?” My body is already responding to the
suggestion, but I'm not sure it can handle another round like that
without exploding into a million pieces.

My thoughts must register on my face because
Calder lets out a laugh.

“I'm joking,” he says, leaning down and
brushing his nose against mine. “But perhaps we can continue this
later. Maybe somewhere with a little more room.”

I'm still too drunk on our passion to do
anything but smile and nod.

We climb awkwardly out of the car. The cold
rain is a shock against my heated skin, but for a moment I close my
eyes and lean my head back, just letting it wash over me. It makes
me feel like a normal person again, not just some sex-high wild
woman. After a moment I open my eyes and look back at Calder, who's
reaching back into the car for our clothes. Even in the gray,
overcast light, the red marks stand out starkly against his bare
back. I gasp.

“What is it?” he says.

“Your back,” I say. “I didn't mean to—I mean,
you said I didn't hurt you.”

He reaches around, and his fingers brush
against the raised gouges across his spine, slashes made by my
nails. He laughs.

“Wild little minx,” he says, stepping forward
and catching me up in his arms. He leans down and captures my mouth
with his. I melt against him, relishing the sensation of his own
fingers digging into the flesh along my hips. His lips are fierce,
hungry, and he gives my bottom one a nip before releasing me once
more.

“We should probably get inside,” he says.
“You have goosebumps.”

I almost tell him the truth—that those
goosebumps are from his touch, not the cold—but the sound of my
ringtone cuts me off.

“Here.” Calder reaches into the bag he
brought of my things and grabs the phone. His eyes flick down at
the screen as he hands it to me. “Ah. Apparently you're not
supposed to answer.”

I hear the question in his voice, even as my
own hand freezes on the cell. I don't even have to look down at the
screen. There’s only one person in my phone labeled “Do Not
Answer.”

I don’t know why Garrett’s calling again, but
I’m really not in the mood to deal with him right now. I told him
to call the Center. If he has any questions or updates, he can talk
to my dad. I reach into the bag for my clothes and find his
sister’s dress next on top of my muddy, wrinkled things.

I glance up again to find Calder, meaning to
ask him about it, but he’s staring at me with an intense
expression.

“It's nothing,” I say, trying to dispel his
concern. “No one important.”

“Is this guy bothering you or something?”
Calder says.

I shrug. “It's not really any of your
business.”

“I would think it's at least partially my
business, considering what just happened between us.”

The last thing I want to do is talk to Calder
about Garrett.

“I don't delude myself into thinking what
just happened between us was anything more than sex. I'm not
obligated to tell you about any other men in my life, just as I
don't expect you to tell me about your other women.” I do have
some
pride, after all.

“This isn't about our romantic history,”
Calder objects. “If someone's listed as 'Dipshit' on your phone, I
don't think I'm overreaching to think his call might be
unwelcome.”

“I can handle it, I promise,” I say. “I'm a
big girl.”

“How often does he call you?”

“I can handle it,” I snap. I yank the dress
over my head and shove my arms through the sleeves. I can't believe
I'm having this argument with him. Why does he care who calls
me?

For now, at least, he seems content to drop
the issue. Neither of us speak as we pull on the rest of our
clothes. The fuzzy, post-coital glow is gone, and now I'm only
cold, wet, and annoyed. I reach around and tug on the zipper of my
dress, but it gets stuck halfway up.

“Here,” Calder says. Before I can object, he
steps behind me and pulls my zipper up the rest of the way. His
hand lingers at the base of my neck.

“I wasn't trying to push you,” he says, so
softly that I can barely hear him over the rain. “I was just
worried, that's all.”

I turn and glance up at him over my
shoulder.

“I don't need you to protect me.”

“We all need people to protect us
sometimes.”

“And sometimes,” I say, stepping out of his
grip, “we need the freedom to fight our own battles.”

He doesn't say anything as I bend and grab
the rest of my bag off the ground. I wonder if he thinks I'm going
to climb back in the car. To be honest, I’m tempted. I don't want
to admit defeat, even now. But this time the sensible side of me
wins out.

“Let's go,” I say, moving back toward the
gate. “Unless you want to stay out here in this weather all
day.”

It's not until we're inside, dripping in the
foyer, that I raise the issue of the bet.

“Looks like you'll be fulfilling your
father's pledge to the Center after all,” I say.

He freezes, frowns. “What?”

“Our bet,” I say, surprised I have to remind
him. “You lost.”

He shakes his head. “I'm afraid
you
lost, Ms. Frazer.”

“You were the one who dove into the car and
grabbed me,” I say, reaching up to rub the back of my head. “I
still have the bump from where I hit the window. You made the first
move.”

“That wasn't our bet.” He steps toward me,
dripping water all over his fancy silk carpet. “Our bet was who
would be the first one to give into their baser instincts.”

“Same thing.”

“Not at all.” He's only a few steps from me
now.

“You,” he says softly, his breath caressing
my cheek, “You were touching yourself.”

“That wasn't part of our bet.”

“It fulfills the conditions. You admitted
that you were thinking of me.”

I jerk back from him. “That's not what we
meant by the bet, and you know it.”

“Perhaps that's not what
you
understood it to mean, but it's what the terms dictate.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “You're not
going to trick me into letting you win. You grabbed me. You kissed
me. You told me you couldn't control yourself.”

“If we're arguing that detail,” he says,
closing the distance between us again, “then you were the one who
gave me complete permission to lose control.”

“This is ridiculous. You just don't want to
admit you've lost.”

“Should we consult a third party? I can call
my lawyer if you want. He has experience dealing in matters like
this.”

I roll my eyes. This is getting absurd.

“You owe the Center two years of the pledge
money your father promised,” I say.

“You won't get it.”

I'm going to punch him. I'm actually going to
punch him this time. He'll probably sue me or something, but it'll
be worth it. What else do I have to lose at this point?

Calder must read the violence on my face
because he takes a step back.

“I'm sorry, I truly am,” he says. “I told you
that I always keep my word, but I'm not in a position to throw away
huge chunks of money just because someone misunderstood something I
said.”

From where I’m standing, he’s most definitely
in a position where he can—and does—throw huge chunks of money at
any number of things, but I can see this line of argument is going
nowhere.

“Fine,” I say. “Then why don't we make
another bet? Double or nothing.”

His eyes flash. He's intrigued.

“What did you have in mind?” he says.

Honestly, I don't know. But I'm not about to
let this opportunity slip through my fingers. I glance around,
desperate for ideas, but I can't even begin to think of the options
in a house like this. Should I challenge him to another splash
fight on the roof? Suggest a round of pool or darts in the game
room?

Something he mentioned in passing during our
tour pops into my mind.

“You said you used to play hide and seek with
your sister?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting we
bet on a game of hide and seek?”

In reality I have no idea what I'm
suggesting. But Calder seems excited by the idea, so I decide to
push it a little further.

“Perhaps,” I say, making a show of glancing
around. “It's fitting for a stormy day like today.”

“Am I to be the one to hide or seek in this
scenario of yours?” he says, drawing near me again.

I don't know what to say. He has the
advantage either way. On the one hand, if he hid, then I—

What the hell am I thinking? How old am
I—six?

“Forget it,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s a
stupid idea.”

He moves toward me, and suddenly the wall's
at my back. Calder leans over me.

“It's not stupid at all. In fact, I like the
idea very, very much.”

“That's just because you know all the good
hiding spots,” I say lightly, trying to make a joke of it. I don't
trust the way my heart is beating. I don't trust myself when he's
so close.

He chuckles and props a hand on the wall
beside my head, closing me in.

“We can bend the rules easily enough,” he
says. “Make it a little more even for you.”

I look up at him through my lashes. “And how,
exactly, do you suggest we do that?”

His eyes darken as they hold my own.

“I'll give you a massive head start,” he says
with a wicked smile.

“That's not an advantage. That should be a
standard rule in a house this size. It probably takes half an hour
to walk from one side to the other.” I frown up at him. “And who's
to say that I'll be the one hiding?”

“As you pointed out, I know all the good
spots already,” he says. “Besides, I rather like the idea of
chasing you down. It's very…
primal
, isn't it?”

The way he says that sends a shiver down my
spine.

“You still have the advantage,” I say.

He considers this for a moment, and I can't
help but notice the way his pulse beats in his throat. He's
thrilled by our little game, and the knowledge of this sends an
echoing response through my own body.

“How about this,” he says. “I'll give you a
ten minute head start. After that, we'll set a definitive time
limit—say, an hour. You said yourself that it will probably take
thirty minutes to walk from one side of this place to the other. I
may have a more thorough knowledge of this house than you do, but I
certainly can't search every room in an hour. That should make
things even.”

It's a start, at least.

“Who will keep the time?” I ask.

“We'll set the alarms on our phones.” He
whips his phone out of his pocket and pulls up the clock function.
I fish my own cell out of my bag of muddy clothes and follow his
lead.

But when I look at him again, he’s
frowning.

“I didn’t realize what time it was,” he says.
He glances up. “I’m sorry, Lily, but I have to make a few
calls.”

“Oh. Okay.” I tell myself the little dip in
my belly isn’t disappointment.

He raises his hand to my cheek.

“After that,” he says, brushing his thumb
across my lips, “then you bet your sweet little ass that I mean to
hunt you down and claim my prize.”

“Your prize?”

“We did say double or nothing,” he says, a
dark gleam in his eye. “I think it's only fair with stakes this
high that I get something for catching you.”