*This is a bad idea.
Calder’s upset—a storm waiting to erupt—and I have yet to understand the extent of his pain. He’s dangerous for me. He’s too unstable, and I feel too strongly. Not to mention the fact that I’m still pretty pissed at him. My gut tells me that this will only end badly, but my heart doesn’t care.
I don’t know what secret burdens he still carries, or how those secrets might tear us apart. I know only that he no longer wishes to deny the cravings of our bodies, and that I am too weak to resist him, in spite of my reservations.
The time for talking is past, at least today.
“You still owe me a dare,” he murmurs.
I smile. “Then I dare you to remove your clothes. And you’re not allowed to put them on again until I say so.”
He flashes me a devilish grin as he climbs off the bed and pulls off his shirt again, revealing his broad, muscled shoulders and chiseled chest once more. The pants go next, and by the time they hit the floor it’s quite obvious that he’s as excited for this as I am.
“As commanded,” he says, moving toward me again. He leans over me on the bed, bringing his face close to mine.
“Your turn,” he says. “Truth or dare?”
There’s only one choice. “Dare.”
He reaches across my body and grabs the shirt he used to bind my hands.
“I dare you to wear this for the rest of the day.”
My heart flutters in my throat. I hold my wrists out to him, but he shakes his head.
“Not like that. Stand up.”
I obey, letting him pull me out of the bed. When I’m standing, he steps around behind me and places the rolled-up shirt across my eyes. The fabric blocks what little light there is in the room, and now there’s only the heat of him at my back, the feel of his fingers in my hair as he knots the blindfold behind my head.
When he’s done, he moves his hands to my shoulders. His touch is like a flicker of fire across my skin. His breathing is fast, shallow, but his fingers are slow and deliberate as they trace invisible paths down my arms. It’s the exact opposite of the way he touched me last night.
He moves around me, and suddenly his mouth is against my throat, wet and hungry as he kisses a blazing trail down to my collarbone. His hair tickles my chin as I roll my head back, basking in the sensations coursing through my flesh.
He drifts still lower, and I gasp as his mouth closes suddenly around my nipple. My hands fly to his hair as his tongue flicks across the nub, and he licks and sucks and draws it into a hard point.
I sense him drop to his knees in front of me, and his hands dance across the backs of my thighs as he kisses his way down my stomach. I suck in a breath when his nose brushes against the folds between my legs. His tongue slips across my clit at the same moment that he slides his finger into me from behind, and I let out a whimper.
He chuckles darkly. “Am I overwhelming you already?”
He doesn’t even give me time to respond. He pushes his tongue between my legs, attacking me with the same skill I experienced just moments ago. I dig my nails into his shoulders as I fight to remain upright. My knees are trembling, and I feel light-headed.
“Calder…” I moan, but I’m already sinking. Or is he pulling me down? I can’t tell. Suddenly I’m in his lap and his mouth is on mine. I throw my arms around his neck and lean into him, ravenous for his kiss.
His hands move to my hips, shifting me, guiding me onto him. He slips into me easily, as if our bodies were made to join perfectly together, and he groans as I sink down onto his hard length. Our chests are pressed against each other, and I can feel the hard beating of his heart against his ribs. He tightens his grip on my hips, yanking me down while he thrusts up, and now I’m the one moaning.
I bite down on my lip, trying to stifle the sound, but Calder growls in my ear.
“Don’t hold back anything. I want everyone within a mile of this place to know that I’m fucking you raw.”
He drives into me again, and this time nothing can keep me from crying out.
It’s been too long.
Calder rolls forward, shoving me down on my back. The cheap apartment carpet is rough against my skin, but I don’t care. Nothing matters but the feeling of Calder inside of me.
He rocks against me like an animal. His mouth moves roughly across any bit of skin he can reach. I wrap my legs around his hips, allowing him to go deeper, and I tilt my head up and grasp desperately with my lips until I manage to catch his earlobe between my teeth.
This is how we’ve always done it best: this rough, unapologetic coming together. We’ve fucked to forget the rest of the world, fucked to lose ourselves in each other for some beautiful, fleeting moment in time. We’ve fucked to stop worrying. We’ve fucked to live.
Calder pauses, and a sob escapes my lips. If he stops now I’ll go mad.
But no: he only wants to flip me over. I obey the silent orders of his hands, letting him guide me onto my elbows and knees.
He doesn’t enter me again immediately. Instead he slides the tip of his cock up and down the length of my folds. He’s teasing me, and I try to push back against him, but he grabs me and holds me firmly by the hips.
When I’ve stopped wriggling, he makes one final stroke along the length of my lips again, from my clit up to the opposite end.
“One day,” he says, his voice rough and breathy, “I’ll fuck you everywhere.”
I shiver at the implication of his words, but he’s already shifting back to more familiar territory. He doesn’t even give me time to catch my breath before he thrusts into me again, tearing a strangled gasp from my throat. He doesn’t seem to notice. My fingers dig into the carpet as he drives into me, again and again. He’s hitting my very core, sending waves of sensation through me, and I can do nothing but submit to his body. His grip on my hips is brutal, but I don’t care. I’m lost in the feeling of him, of his length filling me and his hands clutching me and our warm bodies moving together.
When I finally peak, the sensation is so overwhelming that I swear I almost black out. Calder isn’t far behind me, and he groans as he thrusts into me a final time. Afterward, we both collapse in a breathless heap on the floor.
“Wow,” I say. I’m sticky with sweat, but Calder doesn’t seem to mind. He wraps himself around me, drawing me up against his chest.
“I would ask if you enjoyed yourself, but I think I already know the answer,” he says. “I think all of your neighbors know the answer, too.”
I bat at him, but he dodges my blind swing easily. When I start to remove the blindfold, however, he catches my hand.
“All day, remember?” he says.
“There’s more?”
“Oh, yes,” he whispers into my ear. “I’m just getting started.”
*
It’s easy to ignore the rest of the world when you’re drowning in sex.
All the teasing and denial of the past few weeks only made both of us hungrier for each other, and we spend the morning as Calder promised, making up for lost time.
By lunchtime we’ve worked up quite an appetite, and we decide to order in. It seems like a good idea after Calder’s last attempt to cook—especially since in my current blindfolded state I can do little to help. I’m a little disappointed that I don’t get to see his strategic maneuvering when it comes time to answer the door—if he’s forcing me to keep the blindfold on all day, then I’m not about to let him out of his dare and allow him to put his clothes back on—but I forget my disappointment when I get a whiff of the food and my stomach rumbles. I’m starving.
“What are we having?” I ask.
He’s seated me at his table—still naked, of course—and though I can hear him laying out the cartons in front of me, there are too many aromas for me to identify them all. Calder lists off the dishes one by one, and my mouth waters more with every word.
“Here,” Calder says, and I hear him drag a chair up next to mine. “I’ll help you eat.”
“I’m blindfolded, not a child. I can eat on my own.” Too bad he can’t see me roll my eyes.
He laughs. “Of course. Forgive me.”
He passes me a fork, and he doesn’t quite manage to stifle his chuckle when my fingers miss it the first time. My other hand scrabbles around the table until I find the nearest carton, and I raise it to my face and take a sniff.
“This is the lo mein,” I say. I jab my fork into the container and swirl it around, trying to catch a nice-sized bite of noodles. When I feel the right amount of resistance on my fork, I raise it to my lips. It’s probably not the most graceful of bites, but I believe I manage it quite well.
Not that Calder isn’t still deeply entertained by the whole thing. I can feel his amusement radiating off of him. I sense his eyes on me as I go for a second bite.
“Aren’t you hungry?” I ask. “Or do you prefer to just watch me eat?”
“I’m hungry,” he says. But I can tell by his tone that he isn’t talking about food.
When I’ve had my fill of the lo mein, I feel around until I find another carton. This one smells like it has some meat—pork, maybe?—and steamed vegetables. I poke around with my fork until I’ve caught something. I succeed in getting it halfway to my mouth before the sauce drips on my chest.
“Making a mess, are we?” says Calder.
I’m already raising my napkin, but his hand catches my wrist. I feel him lean toward me, and his warm breath hovers over my skin. A second later I feel his tongue on my breast, lapping up the offending drop.
“Much better,” he says when he pulls away.
“I’m beginning to see your plan now.”
“And you approve?”
I don’t dignify his question with a response. Instead I scoop up another bit of food with my fork. I manage another five or six bites before something finally falls off of my fork and onto my lap.
“I’ve got it,” Calder says, and before I can stop him he’s diving face-first at my crotch.
“Calder!” I say, but it comes out as a laugh. He has me by the waist, and he’s kissing my thighs, my hips—any bit of skin he can reach. I try to squirm away, but that only encourages him. He’s nipping at my lower abdomen, flicking his tongue at my belly button. It tickles, and I squeal and tug at his hair. And then I’m falling out of my chair, Calder with me, and we both hit the cheap linoleum floor.
Calder freezes. “Are you all right?”
It only takes me a moment to catch my breath, and then I’m laughing again—practically hyperventilating. Calder joins in, and he’s tickling, kissing, caressing every part of me as I swat playfully at him.
It makes my heart swell to see—well, hear—him like this, joyful and carefree and just happy. He’s always been so serious—willing and eager to play a naughty game or two, yes, but always serious. I know that his worries hover just out of sight, that a careless word might bring them rushing back again, but I’m determined to chase them away, at least for this weekend. If I have to keep him here for the next two days, hide him away from everything else, then I’ll do it.
Calder notices that I’ve stopped laughing. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” My fingers flutter about until they find his face. “You know, I still need to eat.”
“Do you want me to help you this time?”
“Maybe.”
He leans closer. “You’re going to have to ask me very nicely.”
I let out a laugh and give him a shove.
“You’ll be waiting a long time for that!” I say.
He lunges after me, catching me just as I’ve managed to find my chair again.
“Minx,” he growls, but he guides me back up into the seat, and when he joins me at the table he makes no argument to helping me with the rest of my dinner.
It’s one of the strangest and most romantic things I’ve ever experienced, letting him feed me while I’m blindfolded. I thought it would make me feel silly, like a child, but instead it’s incredibly sensual. Any time something drips, he’s there with his lips, kissing it up.
At one point he pauses, and I feel him looking at me.
“What is it?” I say.
For a moment he doesn’t say anything, and my gut seizes. I fear the worst—that something has reminded him of his father or all the tabloid madness—but then he leans forward and touches me lightly on the cheek.
“You’re just so beautiful,” he says.
“I have soy sauce all over me.”
“No,” he says, taking me by the chin and turning my face toward him, even though I can’t see. “No, I’m not going to let you brush it off. Not this time.”
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything.
“Every time I look at you,” Calder continues, “I—I just feel like I want to be better. I want to do better. For you.”
“You’re doing fine,” I assure him.
“No, I’m a mess. My life is falling apart around me, and every day everything becomes more complicated.”
I lean into his touch, place my hand over his on my cheek. He’s frightening me.
“You don’t have to deal with this alone,” I tell him. “I’m here. I can help you.”
“I’m not going to drag you into any of this.”
“But I want you to. I want to be there for you.”
“And what about you? You’re just as lost and afraid as I am, only you don’t admit it to yourself.”
I pull away from him. “What do you think I’m afraid of?”
“This. Us.”
It sounds so much like an argument we had long ago, back on his estate. Right before I realized he’d lied about having any money. Right before Garrett arrived and I stormed off the property, praying I’d never see either of them again.
But things have changed.
“If I’m afraid of this,” I counter, “then why am I here? Why did I get so upset when you told me you needed space?”
Before he can respond, I pull him toward me. I don’t want to talk about the things that may or may not frighten us. I want him to forget about it all, forget about everything he fears is wrong with him or me or us. There’s nothing wrong with the way his skin feels against mine, with the way he tastes on my tongue.
I kiss him, softly, and for a moment he’s still. I’m afraid he’s going to pull away. But then he slips his hands around my neck and draws me closer. He kisses me sweetly, gently, again and again like he’ll never have enough of me. His hands move slowly down my body, and my skin prickles beneath his fingers. With every touch of his hands or lips I burn brighter.
“You’re so warm,” he comments.
I’m more than warm. I’m on fire. Heat races up and down my spine.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, releasing me. The sudden absence of his touch is physically jarring.
He doesn’t go far. Only to the fridge. I hear the door to the freezer open, the shuffling of ice. What is he doing?
He sinks back into the chair next to me. “Tilt back your head.”
I obey. He presses something against my neck, and I nearly leap out of the chair at the sudden shock of cold against my skin.
“Relax,” he murmurs. “It’s only an ice cube.”
I shiver but make no protest.
Calder moves the ice slowly down my chest. It burns in a completely different way than his hands. Beads of water dribble down across my breasts, and Calder leans down and catches one with his tongue. When he moves the ice across my nipple, I gasp.
The sensation is like nothing I’ve ever felt. It’s heightened, I’m sure, by my lack of sight, and by the desire and emotion coursing through me. But I’m still no match for that little piece of ice. The next time he slides it across that delicate point, I nearly sob. I can’t take it.
Calder moves forward and takes my nipple between his lips. It’s so sensitive that even the softest graze of his teeth is painful. But it doesn’t matter. I’m too overwhelmed by the feeling of his warm mouth around my cold flesh. It sends a fresh wave of goose bumps across my skin.
How could he think I’d ever be afraid of this? Of us?
“Calder,” I whisper, “take me to bed.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He throws down the ice before standing and scooping me up in his arms. This time we actually make it to the bed. He lays me down gently and then lowers himself beside me.
This time he’s slow, patient, practiced. He starts by licking up the last wet trails left by the ice cube before making his way back to my lips. His mouth moves against mine with a slow intensity that makes me feel like I’m drowning. I want him to drown in me, too. I want to chase away all of his fears.
I wrap my arms around him, holding him against me, and I arch my back until there’s no possible way for us to be closer without joining. I want him to take strength in that connection, in the comforts of physical intimacy.
“Lily,” he rasps between his kisses. “Lily, Lily, Lily…”
He says it over and over again, like a mantra. His hands are roaming, dancing, and I twine my legs around his. He buries his face in my hair.
“God, you’re perfect,” he says. His voice breaks on the last word like he can’t bear the weight of it.
I pull in a shaky breath. It terrifies me, the anguish in his voice. Like this is some breaking point.
I don’t want him to break. I want to save him.
I arch my back again, and this time he reacts, pressing his body back down against mine. When he finally slides into me, I feel his shoulders relax beneath my hands. This is where he belongs.
His face is still in my hair, and he moves slowly. I imagine he’s savoring, as I am, the way our bodies move so easily together. I want to see his face. I want to look into his eyes as he makes love to me. But I’m afraid that reaching for the blindfold will break the spell. Maybe the reason I feel so vulnerable and emotional right now all goes back to this bit of fabric across my eyes.
Instead I tighten my grip on his back, ensuring we’re pressed as fully against each other as we could possibly be. I whisper his name into the darkness, and he responds by capturing my mouth again, tugging my lips between his teeth as if he could pull the very breath from me.
And then I’m crying. I’m not sure why. But I’m suddenly grateful for the blindfold. I don’t want him to see this, to think that anything is wrong.
He realizes eventually, of course. Maybe he senses it, or maybe he tastes the salt on my cheeks. He murmurs soft things, sweet things, but that only makes it worse.
“Please,” he says. “Please, just a little longer. I need you.”
He thinks I want him to stop. He doesn’t realize that I’m not upset, that I’m just overwhelmed by it all.
“I need you, too,” I whisper. “Don’t let me go.”
We take our time, building toward our pleasure. When it finally comes, when we cry out and cling to each other, I feel lighter somehow. Afterward we lie next to each other, not touching, until he rolls over and slides the fabric off of my eyes. I blink in the dim light of the room, and when my vision refocuses, I find Calder leaning over me, his gaze dark with some emotion I can’t name. My heart leaps into my throat.
The tears have stopped, but a couple still linger on my cheeks. Calder brushes one away with his thumb and then leans forward to kiss each of my eyelids. When he lies back down, he pulls me into his arms. I rest my head on his chest and focus on the rise and fall of his breath.
I would do anything for this man, I think. Anything to make him happy.
My stomach twists at the realization.
Anything? I ask myself. Even if it means jeopardizing the Center?
But I’ve already made that choice, haven’t I? I might have told Asher Julian everything I knew about Calder and his family and probably gotten a whole lot more attention for the Center. But I didn’t.
An article is just an article, and the Center will survive without it, but I know that someday soon I’ll have to confess the truth about my relationship with Calder to my dad. Once, I was merely hoping to protect my privacy, to give this thing with Calder a chance to find its feet before I started blabbing about it. But this whole business with Asher and the article has changed things. It’s no longer just a secret; I lied. And I have no doubt that under these circumstances, Dad will see it as nothing less than a betrayal. From his point of view, I’ve chosen a man over the well-being of the Center. And not just any man—the one my dad still holds responsible for everything.
I run my fingers through the dusting of hair on Calder’s chest. There’s no point in worrying about it now. I’ve already made my decision, and it won’t be long before I have to face the consequences of that choice, but I can do nothing about it today.
I shake the last thoughts of my dad and the article and the Center from my head and snuggle up next to Calder, determined to find an escape, for now, in the circle of his arms.