Damn him. Damn him straight to hell. After everything he’s put us through, who the hell gave him the right to lecture me about how to run the Frazer Center?
Screw him. We don't need his money anyway. Garrett's helping us now—maybe he can scare up an even bigger donor. Or maybe Dad and I will find a way to revamp our classes without leaving our students to make up the difference in our funds. We'll make do without Calder’s help. We have to.
I reach the gates and climb through them once more, jumping down next to the front bumper of my car. It's then, only then, that I realize I've left my purse back in my room. My wallet, my phone, my keys…
My car's still unlocked, thank God, which is the only thing that keeps me from having a complete and total breakdown in front of the Cunninghams' gate. I open the door and throw myself down on the backseat. I rub my cheek against the rough fabric of the cushion and force myself to take a couple of deep breaths.
It's all my own fault, I know. I don’t know how to keep my emotions at bay. I should’ve just let him rant and focused on winning the bet. Now I’ve let that final opportunity slip out of my fingers.
My physical reaction to him doesn't help anything. It only gets me worked up, and my efforts to fight down my attraction only make me more frustrated.
I try to focus on the patter of rain against the roof of my car.
He's a cheap, heartless bastard, I remind myself, but it doesn't make me feel any better. At the end of the day, he has no respect for the work Dad and I do. I repeat that thought in my head, over and over again, until eventually, mercifully, the sound of the rain sends me off to sleep.
* * *
I'm woken by a sharp rap against the window.
My eyes fly open. I jerk upright, looking frantically around as I try to remember where I am. By the time the details of my current situation come back to me, Calder has already opened the door, bringing a rush of cold and rain with him as he slides inside.
“Move over,” he says.
Still half asleep, I obey without a word. I push a strand of damp hair behind my ear as he settles down beside me and pulls the door closed once more. He seems even taller and broader in the backseat of my tiny Honda, and his leg and hip are pressed against mine. He's warm, even through our damp clothes.
“I've been looking everywhere for you,” he says, an edge to his voice.
Our argument comes rushing back to me, and my own annoyance flares up.
“I told you I wasn't going to rely on your generosity anymore,” I say.
“I didn't think you'd go running out in the storm!”
As if to add weight to his words, thunder crashes overhead, making the car tremble.
“What was I supposed to do? Go sulk in my borrowed room in my borrowed clothes?”
“It wasn't my intention to kick you out.”
“It doesn't matter now.”
“What's that supposed to mean? Do you intend to stay in your car?”
“For now, yes.”
“Don't be ridiculous, Lily. You don't have your keys. It's cold out here. You don't know how much longer this storm will last. It might still be a couple of days before the road clears.”
There comes a point sometimes in arguments when you know you've lost. When your pride and your anger have backed you into a corner and a sensible person would throw up their hands and walk away. I'd like to think that I'm normally a sensible person, but the past few days have left me with a confusing jumble of emotions. I panic.
“I'll stay out here,” I tell him. “I'm sure I'll survive somehow.”
He makes an exasperated sound and runs his hand through his wet hair. “This is crazy.”
“No. I think I'm being pretty reasonable, actually. Unless you feel like continuing our earlier argument, I think it's better if we stay apart.”
“We can stay apart in the house.”
“But I'd still be your guest. Believe me, I don't want to be out here, but I won't go back in that house. I refuse to owe you anything.”
“I'm not going to let you sleep in your car, Lily.”
“If it weren't storming, I'd be halfway home right now,” I remind him. “We'd probably never speak again, and I don't think either of us would have a problem with that. Let's just make this easy.”
He stares at me for a long moment, and I'm afraid he's going to keep arguing. But he only runs his hand through his hair again.
“Fine,” he says. “I won't drag you back.”
I wait for him to get out of the car, but he doesn't move.
“One thing before I go,” he says. His eyes move down my body. “I'm going to need Louisa's clothes.”
I gape at him. “What? I'll ship them back to you, I promise.”
“I'm afraid I can't take that risk. As you said, after you leave here we'll probably never see each other again.”
“You have the contact information for the Center,” I remind him. “You can find me there. Plus you have my purse back in the house.”
He shakes his head. “You said yourself that you no longer want to owe me anything. I'm assuming that extends to my sister's generosity as well.”
Fuck. He's turned my own words against me.
“Fine,” I say. “Get out of the car and I'll hand them out to you.”
“So you can lock me out in the rain? I don't think so.”
“If you're that concerned, the keys for this thing are back in the house with my purse.” If I could get him to bring them out here, all the better, but he doesn't fall for it.
“I'm not leaving here without those clothes.” He leans back in the seat and stretches his arms over his head, waiting. “You have two choices: give them to me, or come back to the house with me.” He finishes with one of those smug little smiles of his.
He thinks he's won the argument, that by insisting the return of the clothes he'll get me to go back inside. He doesn't realize that I've already abandoned my sense in favor of my pride, and I'm willing to go down with this ship. I only have one weapon left to use against him.
I reach behind me and slowly pull down the zipper of my dress. His eyes widen when he realizes what I'm doing, but I don't stop. When I've finished unzipping, I slide the shoulders of my dress off one by one, rolling the fabric down to my waist and revealing the lacy black bra I found in Louisa's closet. His gaze follows every moment of my hands, and his eyes linger on my breasts, then my stomach, before flicking back up to my eyes again.
He wasn't expecting this, and in his surprise he lacks the composure to hide the hunger that burns in his eyes. I feel wanton, powerful, as I reach around my back once more and unclasp my bra. I pull it off and shove it into Calder's hands. It nearly falls out of his grip, he's so focused on my newly exposed breasts, but he manages to grab one of the straps. Still, his eyes remain on me, burning with such an intensity that my entire body goes hot, despite the fact that I'm half-naked in the back of a car.
I grab the fabric at my waist and raise my bottom off the seat just enough to sidle the dress down over my hips. I didn't feel comfortable borrowing Louisa's panties, so I'm bare beneath the skirt. Calder watches the fabric fall around my ankles and then raises his eyes to mine once more. It's all I can do not to throw myself into his arms.
I pass the dress over to him, but he hardly seems to notice. Meanwhile, I'm hyper-aware of everything: the rough fabric of the seat against my bare skin, the cold air on my nipples, the tiny hairs lifting on the back of my neck. I'm aware of the way Calder smells, his natural, manly scent only enhanced by the damp in the air. I'm aware of each of his breaths, to the point that my own breathing begins to match its rhythm.
“Enjoying the show?” I say, my voice husky. Maybe all isn’t lost. The universe seems to have taken pity on me after all—it’s handed me the perfect chance to win my bet against Calder.
He gives a slow nod. His shoulders are tense, and for a moment I think he's about to lunge toward me and grab me to him. My heart careens madly at the thought, but as much as
I want to, I know it's a terrible idea to just fall into his arms. In this moment, my restraint gives me the power—and I'm not about to give that up anytime soon.
“Here are the shoes,” I say, grabbing the sandals from the floor and tossing them at him. “That's everything.”
He looks down at the pile of clothing in his hands and then back at me.
“You said it yourself,” he says, his voice deep and rough. “When I leave this car, it's over. We'll probably never see each other again.”
He wants me to crack, to be the first one to give into the baser sensations running through my flesh. But I know I'm stronger than he expects.
“Probably not,” I say casually.
Still he remains in the car, his eyes fixed on me. His grip on the clothes is so tight that his knuckles are white. I feel my own resistance start to crumble the longer we sit here, and I know he has to leave if I'm to get out of this with my pride—and my sanity—still intact.
“Well?” I say. “You've got the clothes. Shouldn't you head back to the house?”
He frowns. “I guess I should.”
I'm afraid for a brief moment that he'll stay anyway, but it appears that the intense moment between us has passed. Calder opens the door and climbs out, leaving me alone in the car.
And—oh yeah—completely naked.
CHAPTER TEN
This isn't a high point of my life, that's for sure.
No purse, no keys, no phone, no clothes. I'm not really sure what to do, but all of my options look pretty bleak, and most of them involve me going back to Calder's mansion. I reach over the back of the seat for the emergency car kit I keep in my trunk. There's a thin blanket inside, and I wrap it around my shoulders. On top of everything else, the nasty, rainy weather ensures my self-induced imprisonment will be freezing.
But in spite of it all, I'd do everything again in a heartbeat. It was completely worth it to watch Calder’s face, to see him, for once, flustered and overwhelmed. That little taste of power had an intense effect on me, and I'm surprised at how aroused I am. I feel intoxicated.
I lie down again, the emergency blanket wrapped around me. I'm so high after my mini-victory that I tell myself it's all right to slide a finger down my body—between my breasts, across my belly, toward the sensitive place between my legs.
It's all right to imagine it’s Calder touching me instead.
I can still feel his breath on my neck, his warm fingers grazing my skin. All the desire that’s been building over the past couple days comes to the surface. My whole body reacts to the gentle caress of my fingers. Prickles dance across my skin as I imagine what might have happened between us had either Calder or I been the tiniest bit weaker. What might have happened if I’d let my guard down—or if Calder had learned that I spied on him the other night. My hand slips along my wetness, and I bite back a moan.
And then I see the movement out of the corner of my eye.
I jerk upright, clutching the blanket to my chest.
Calder stands outside the car, a bag in his hand. His mouth is slightly open, his eyes burning with such desire that I feel as if he can see right through my meager covering. He reaches for the door handle.
“What are you doing?” I squeak, scrambling back against the other door as the cold air rushes in around him. “You're supposed to be back at the house!”
“I was,” he says, leaning through the open door. His voice is low and thick. “But I felt bad for leaving you, so I brought you your things.”
“Fine. Leave them here, then.”
He shakes his head. He still stands halfway in and halfway out of the car.
“You're not supposed to be here,” I say desperately. “You're not supposed to watch someone when they… when they're…”
I remember my actions in the secret passageway and my cheeks burn even more. This can’t be happening. I want to run away again, but there’s nowhere to go.
Calder takes no pity on my obvious distress.
“Tell me you weren't thinking about me,” he says.
“What?” I choke out.
“Just now. Tell me you weren't thinking about me as you touched yourself, and I'll turn around and walk right back to the house.”
I'm having difficulty breathing, but I force myself to look him in the eye. “And if I was?”
His own eyes are half-closed as he watches me, and when he speaks, his voice is little more than a growl.
“Then you're in trouble, Ms. Frazer.”
He dives into the car, slamming into me so hard that my head knocks back against the window behind me. But he either doesn't notice or doesn't care, and before I can even utter a sound of pain, his lips are on mine.
For the briefest moment, I consider pushing him away. But as desire flares between us, bright and powerful, I lose what little sense I have left. I grab the front of his shirt in my fist and pull him harder against me.
His mouth moves against mine, rough and unyielding, while one of his hands slips around my neck. The other moves between us, yanking the emergency blanket from my grip and tossing it aside.
“Fuck, Lily,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Fuck, I want you.”
His hand moves across my breast, down my belly, to my hip. He drags me toward him, holding me against the bulge in his pants, and all the while his lips are moving against my own. I meet his rough kisses with equal passion, slipping my tongue into his mouth to dance with his.
He half-lifts me toward him, his hand moving over my bare ass. His fingers press against my flesh as they slide across the curve of my bottom and slip between my legs. I quiver at that intimate touch.
He tears his mouth away from mine.
“Tell me,” he rasps.
I'm just as breathless as he is. “Tell you what?”
“Tell me what you were thinking about when you touched yourself.” His finger moves along the edge of my swollen lips but no further. “What made you this wet?”
Heat washes over my face. “I—I don't know.”
“Tell me,” he begs. He slides back, but only so he can bend his head to my neck. He trails kisses down the column of my throat. Both of his hands move to my breasts, squeezing and kneading as his hot tongue slides over my skin. My fingers dig into his shoulders.
“I was thinking of you,” I whisper.
His teeth graze the skin at the hollow of my throat. “Tell me more.”
“I was thinking of how you—” I gasp as he nips at the skin over my collarbone. “In the gallery, the way you…”
“The way I…”
No one's ever asked me to describe things like this to them before, and I have to struggle for the words.
“The way you touched me,” I say awkwardly. “The way you—the way you played with my breasts.”
In response, he catches one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger and twists. “Like this?”
“Yes,” I breathe. His free hand moves to my other breast, repeating the motion. I moan and squirm, but he's relentless. Meanwhile, his head is moving lower, falling until I can feel his warm breath against my breasts. His lips are rough on the sensitive skin, but I don't care. When he removes his fingers to close his mouth around one of my nipples, I whimper and grab him by the shoulders, my nails digging into his skin. He sucks and nibbles at my tender nub. Pleasure and pain sweep through me as one.
“What else?” he growls around his mouthful.
I can hardly think straight anymore. All of my senses are heightened, and the throbbing between my legs increases with every ragged breath. I was already close to finishing when he found me, and now I'm about to slip over the edge. I slide my hands up his neck to tangle them in his thick hair.
“What else?” he says again. This time he bites down on me, and my hands close into fists around his dark locks.
“The way you slipped your fingers inside of me,” I say, my voice cracking.
He moves one hand down my body and between my legs, and before I can even shift in response
, he thrusts two fingers inside of me.
Pleasure shudders through me, and I cry out and yank at Calder's hair as the world explodes around me. My body spasms, and my passage clenches around the fingers he still moves in and out of me. Wave after wave it comes, sweeping through me with an intensity that leaves me trembling in its wake.
I lie there against the seat, weak and breathless, as Calder moves his mouth to my ear once more.
“Those must have been some pretty vivid thoughts, to get you worked up like that,” he murmurs. His fingers are still inside of me, and he moves them slowly, sending aftershocks rippling through my flesh.
“What else?” he whispers into my ear. “What else do you want me to do?”
I can hardly put together a coherent thought, let alone speak. My hands are still clenched around his hair, but the rest of my body is languid and warm.
“Maybe,” he rasps after a moment, “I should tell you what I want instead.”
He increases the speed of his fingers once more, and already I can feel the tension building in me again.
“I've been thinking of you, too,” he says. He slips his fingers from me suddenly and reaches up, pulling one of my hands from his hair. His grip is slick, dripping with my own juices, but I don't pull away, even when he moves my hand down to the bulge in his pants. He's rock hard beneath the fabric, and his erection jumps at my touch. When he releases me, I keep my hand there, sliding it slowly down his length.
He makes a sound deep in his throat. His entire body is rigid, his arms and shoulders so tense that I can feel them quivering beneath my touch.
“What do you want me to do?” I whisper.
He doesn't say anything as I continue to rub him slowly through the fabric of his pants. Finally I reach up and tug at the hem of his damp shirt, thinking to pull it over his head, but his hand clamps around my wrist.
“My restraint only goes so far,” he says. His eyes bore into mine. “I want you, Lily. I want to fuck you until you can't move, until you can't think, until you've forgotten everything else but me. It won't be gentle. If you don't want that, then tell me, and I'll leave this car. But if I stay… I don't know how much longer I'll be able to control myself.”
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