Red Hot Obsessions (12 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

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.”

I’m almost afraid to ask the question. “What do you want?”

He leans toward me, and for a breathless moment I think he's going to kiss me, but he stops just shy of my lips.

“If I win,” he murmurs, “then you're mine. All night.”

My heart stutters in my chest. “Yours?”

“At my mercy,” he breathes. He runs a single finger down my neck.

“Should I be afraid?” I ask him.

An eager smile stretches across his lips. “Very.”

Before I can respond, he steps away from me.

“Meet me back here in two hours,” he says. “I’ll have Martin send some lunch up to you.”

I can only nod as he walks away.

* * *

At the designated time, I return to the foyer. I wish I could say I spent our hour apart doing something productive, but all I managed to do was change into dry clothes—jeans and a tank top, which seem a little more practical for hide and seek than another sundress—and fret about our impending game. Even now, I’m not sure I should have agreed to this. There’s still time to back out, to run back to my room and lock the door and end this madness before it begins.

But refusing to play means giving up on the Center—or so I tell myself.

I stand against the wall as I wait. Calder is late. I wonder a little about the business that took him away so urgently, but maybe it’s better that I don’t know. I suspect anything I learn about the way he handles his affairs will only make me angry, and right now I want to forget how much I hate him.

I glance down at my phone. It’s ten minutes past the time we were supposed to meet. What if he changed his mind? What if he decided this was a stupid idea after all?

The message icon is flashing in the corner of my phone’s screen. Garrett called again about an hour ago, and this time he left a voicemail. I considered calling him and reminding him to consult my dad with any questions or concerns, but I’m afraid that even that much of a response will only encourage him. I knew I was opening a big fat can of worms when I dialed his number, but I won’t fall into the trap of allowing open communication between us again.