Red Hot Obsessions (17 page)

The hand that doesn't hold my neck slips across the curve of my ass, down between my legs. His fingers dance across me, gently exploring, sliding up and down until my entire body is quivering. My skin has grown so hot that the rain now feels icy-cold on my back.

“You want to be fucked, Lily?” he rasps over the rain.

I nod.

“Answer me,” he growls, tightening his hold on my neck.

“Yes,” I gasp. “Yes, please, yes.”

There's a rush of cold air as he stands upright again, and I hardly have time to register the cold rain on my back once more before he rams into me. I suck in a breath and my fingers tighten on the railing.

“Is this what you want?” Calder says. He withdraws and then thrusts again, driving more deeply this time.

I let out a moan.

“Say it,” he commands roughly. “Say it!”

“Yes. Yes, I want this.” My voice cracks on the last word.

He removes his hand from my neck, but only so he can grab my hips with both hands. His fingers dig into my skin as he drives into me another time.

“What do you want, Lily? Say the whole thing.”

I squeeze the rail. “I want you to fuck me.”

He groans, and then he loses all semblance of control. He thrusts, again and again with wild abandon, and it's all I can do to keep my grip on the railing. I'm gasping for breath, overwhelmed by the feeling of him inside of me. In this position, he feels deeper in me than he ever has before.

“Is…this…what…you…want?” Calder grunts. His fingers dig into my hips.

“Yes,” I rasp. “Fuck me, yes.”

He continues to pound into me, and it's all I can do not to continue my cursing. I can feel my body tensing and tightening, building toward release. I press my forehead against the rail, trying to keep myself together.

But Calder has another idea. He reaches up and grabs my hair, pulling my head up. There's a sharp pain in my scalp, but I don't care.

He thrusts again, and I cry out as my climax hits me hard. I grip the railing with white knuckles and bite down on the back of my hand to keep from screaming. From the way Calder groans behind me, I know he feels the way I'm tightening and pulsing around his cock.

He gives a low, rough chuckle. He enjoys watching me fall apart in pleasure.

“Again?” he asks, continuing his rhythmic movements.

It would be so easy to let him take me to the edge once more. My flesh craves it. My heart is beating so fast I'm afraid it's going to burst right out of my ribs, and I'm struggling to catch a solid breath. Calder's grip tightens, and his speed increases. He's not going to show me any mercy.

But as much as I love letting him control these intense encounters, suddenly I'm struck by an urge that I can't allow myself to ignore.

“Wait,” I gasp. “Calder, wait.”

He slows. “Don't worry, your body can handle it. The second one will be even better.”

“No, that's not what I mean.” I twist myself away from him. I'm not prepared for the sudden rush of cold I feel when we're separated, or the weakness in my body when I pull myself upright.

Calder stands rigid in front of me, and I can only imagine what he's thinking and feeling right now.

“Get in the chair,” I say.

“What?” His voice is tight.

“You heard me.” My voice is stronger, steadier than my body feels right now. “Get in the chair.”

This time my meaning sinks in, and there’s a touch of amusement in Calder’s voice when he speaks again.

“I'm supposed to be the one in charge tonight. That was the bargain.”

I desperately grasp at the tiny bud of confidence the wine left behind.

“I don't think you know what you're missing,” I say in my sultriest voice.

He steps closer to me, pressing me back up against the rail. “You sound very sure of yourself.”

I reach up and run a lone finger down his body, starting at his throat and ending at the base of his hard length.

“We're not properly fucking if you never let me on top,” I say as I wrap my fingers around him.

He laughs, but it’s a rough, hungry sound.

“A valid point.”

He steps away from me, and I revel at the sense of power I feel as I watch him settle obediently in one of the balcony’s chairs.

I take a deep breath. I'll admit it: I prefer when he's in control, when I'm at the mercy of his hands and mouth and cock. But there's something deep inside me that needs to do this, that needs to control him for a moment.

I move slowly toward him, and when I’m standing in front of his chair, I reach out and place my hands on his broad shoulders. His muscles flex slightly beneath my touch. I step forward, straddling him with one leg on either side of the chair, and then I run my fingers down his arms, over his smooth hot skin. I can feel him watching me intently, even though I can hardly see his face in the dark. I can hear his heavy breathing over the rain.

I move one hand to his chest and slide it down his stomach, echoing my touch of a moment ago. When I reach the base of his cock, I find him still rock-hard and ready. For all his initial hesitation, he still seems pretty excited to let me take the reins. I curl my fingers around him and slide my hand gently down his length. He's still slick from being inside me.

“Maybe I should torture you a little,” I say, taking my time as I slide my hand up his length again. “Maybe I should give you a taste of your own medicine.”

He moans, and his hands fly up and grab me by the hips.

“You're already torturing me,” he says, his voice tight.

I smile. It's incredibly arousing to be the one in charge for once. I love watching him crumble beneath my touch. I lower myself a little more on his lap, so I'm nearly sitting on his upper thighs.

“Not nearly enough.” I slide myself forward so that he can feel my slickness against his legs, so that my tenderest spot rubs up against the base of him. He groans and tightens his grip on my hips, urging me with his hands.

“I'm in charge here,” I remind him. “We're doing this at my speed.”

He lets out a long, shaky breath, and I know it's taking all of his self-control to keep from throwing me down and having his way with me.

I lean forward and brush my lips along his neck. Once, twice, three times. He sucks in a breath, but that's not enough. I move up to his ear, and then I run my tongue along its curved edge. He squirms a little beneath me, and his fingers tighten on me yet again. Finally I slip my tongue into the ear itself and swirl it around.

Calder lets out a groan.

“Enough,” he rasps. “Lily, please.” He squirms beneath me.

I'm tempted to give him what he wants, but I'm not done playing just yet.

I stop my gentle strokes and grip him by the shoulders once more. I raise myself slightly, shifting until I'm poised directly over his waiting cock. He moves, trying to drive into me, but I twist away and shake my head.

“We're doing this at my pace,” I tell him, parroting back his own words from earlier. This time, when I position myself, he sits still, though I can tell by his low, throaty growl exactly what he thinks of my teasing.

I lower myself slowly, until only the tip of him is inside of me. His shoulders are stiff beneath my hands, and I know he must be going crazy with self-restraint. Good. Let him suffer a little for all those times he's had me under his control. I lower myself a little more, and this time he leans forward to claim my neck. He nips at my throat, urging me onward as I continue my slow descent.

By the time he's all the way inside of me, his breath is ragged, and I know there are teeth marks all over my skin. His skin is blazing hot beneath my hands, and his body is slick with warm sweat, even in this drizzle. From the stiffness in his body, I suspect he's only barely contained. Truth be told, I'm having a little trouble controlling myself.

“How do you like it?” I whisper into his ear. “How does it feel to be at my mercy, for once?” I rise again, just as slowly, and when Calder doesn't answer me immediately, I know he's struggling. I lean forward and give his ear a playful bite.

“You're cruel,” he says finally. “You're the cruelest, most infuriating woman I've ever met.” One of his hands moves to my neck, and he pulls me down into a kiss. I let him. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth and bear down with my teeth, just a little, just enough to make him moan again. He pulls away once more and begins tracing a path of kisses along my jawline.

“You're also the wildest,” he says between kisses. “And the sexiest. And the most utterly intoxicating…”

His words make the blood rush beneath my skin. I don't know how much longer I can hold back. I begin to lower myself again slowly, but every touch of Calder's fingers and lips makes it that much more difficult to maintain this measured pace.

“Fuck, Lily,” he says. “You're killing me.” This time he thrusts upward, burying himself in me before I have the chance to stop him.

And that’s it.

I begin to move against him, hard and fast, and he moans and echoes my movements, rising to meet me with his body. My fingers dig in his shoulders, and I throw my head back, letting the rain fall down on my face as I ride him like I've never ridden a man before. Every jerk of my body wrings a grunt from his throat, and I'm matching his sounds of pleasure with cries of my own. I feel like a wild woman, a crazed, sexual being who only wants one thing and will do anything to get it.

We grind against each other until I know nothing but the heat and friction and pleasure. There's just me and his hands and his cock and his hot mouth moving across my exposed throat. He bites down on the tender flesh, and I cry out and move faster against him.

My inner walls are starting to contract. Calder seems to notice, because he groans and thrusts more violently against me. I'm close to climaxing again but I want him to explode first.

The next time he thrusts, I stop moving. Instead, I squeeze the muscles between my legs, tightening myself around him.

He growls.

I squeeze them again, and again, and the third time he gives another quick thrust before going rigid. Feeling him come beneath me sends me over the edge myself, and I cry out as I join him on the rippling waves of orgasm.

When the pleasure ends, I collapse against him.

“Well,” Calder murmurs in my ear after a moment. His voice is rough. “I think I’m going to like this ‘just fucking’ arrangement very much.”

I know that I was the one who brought it up in the first place, but something twists a little in my stomach at his words. I'm not sure what's going on with me right now, but every sexual encounter with this man only seems to leave me more confused. At first, I clung to my hatred and told myself that my lust was only an unfortunate complication of the situation. But the more I indulge my desires with Calder, the more I find myself drawn to the man himself. I’ve caught glimpses of his own pain and frustration, and every time he holds me close like this and whispers sweet things in my ear, I find myself wishing I knew more of him. There’s a softness to him, but it’s hidden behind some emotions that I can’t even begin to decipher.

But even though I’m starting to recognize my own feelings, I know they’re wrong. This man is responsible for the Center’s financial troubles. It doesn’t matter what’s happened between us this weekend—I can’t forgive him for that.

I close my eyes and rest my forehead on his shoulder. I don’t even try to respond to his last statement. I know I’ll never find the words.

Instead, I try to focus on the cold of the rain on my back and try to ignore the cold that's taken root in my belly.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

By the time I wake up the next morning, the rain has stopped. Somehow we managed to stumble back to the bed after our romp on the balcony, but my hair is still wet, making me shiver as I climb out of the sheets. I grab my shirt and pull it over my head as I go to inspect the sliver of sunlight coming in around the curtain. I push the thick fabric aside and peer out through the window. Sure enough, the sky is clear. I can even hear birds singing.

I turn back toward the bed. Calder is still asleep, looking deliciously rumpled in the early light. The covers have fallen back, revealing his naked torso, and my mind floods with a dozen wicked ways I might wake him.

But then I remember how we left things last night, how he’d agreed that we were “just fucking.” I'm still not sure why I'm suddenly having this twisted emotional reaction to him, but one thing's for certain: touching him again is a bad idea. I've indulged myself enough. I've had my little sexual fantasy weekend, and now it's time to return to the real world.

I grab my clothes from the floor and pull them on as quietly as possible. I manage to sneak all the way to the door before Calder stirs.

“Lily?” he says, still half asleep.

I'm tempted to make a run for it, but Calder seems to realize what's going on right as my fingers touch the handle.

“Where are you going?” He sits up and eyes me warily. “Are you leaving?”

I try not to notice the sexy way that lock of dark hair falls across his forehead.

“It's stopped raining,” I say.

“So?” He blinks and rubs some of the sleep from his eyes.

“The road should be clear,” I remind him. “I need to get back. They need me at the Center.”

I watch comprehension sink in on his face.

“It's stopped raining,” he says quickly, “but the road won't be clear yet. I bet it'll be another day before the water goes down enough for you to get through.”

This knowledge hits me like a punch to the stomach. I hadn't even considered that possibility.

“I know it's a pain in the ass,” he says, climbing out of bed. “But I can think of several fun ways we might pass the time.” One look at his naked body as he stands up makes his meaning quite clear. I quickly glance away.

“I'm not—I don't think that's the best idea. We've had some fun, but let's be realistic about this whole situation. Spending a couple of days holed up pretending the rest of the world doesn't exist is fine, but at some point we have to wake up and start living like normal people again.”

I can feel his eyes boring into me, but I refuse to look up.

“Very well,” he says after a moment. “If that's what you want.” I can't tell from his tone whether he's angry or disappointed or even if he cares at all. He turns and walks casually over to the closet, disappearing inside without another word.

I'm not sure what to do. Am I dismissed? Should I go back to my room? I need to call my dad again and let him know I'll be here yet another night. I hope he hasn't buried himself under an insane pile of work. I hope Garrett isn't causing him any trouble.

I've just decided to leave when Calder steps out of the closet, a towel around his waist. For all that he's covered now, the image still doesn't leave much to the imagination. I force myself to look him in the eye.

“I was thinking,” he says, “that we might take advantage of the sun and have a look around the gardens. You seemed interested in them the other day.”

My gut reaction is to say no, but honestly, what else am I going to do around here all day? Hiding out in my room won't solve anything. In fact, sitting around with nothing to do would leave me too much time to obsessively dissect these jumbled emotions I’m experiencing. Distracting myself with a giant hedge maze sounds a lot more pleasant, even if it means interacting with the object of my turmoil.

“All right,” I agree.

Calder smiles, and my stomach flutters.

“Care to join me for a shower first?” he says.

God, would I ever.
But I shake my head. No more fooling around. I’m only going to end up hurt.

The disappointment that flashes across his face is only satisfying for the briefest of moments.

“I prefer to shower on my own,” I say, but it sounds like an excuse, even to me. “I’ll just meet you after.”

He nods, once, then disappears into his bathroom without another word. Part of me is tempted to follow him, to strip off my clothes and surprise him, but I push the thought aside. I need to control myself.

I turn and leave the room quickly, before my resolve has the chance to waver.

* * *

An hour later, freshly showered and clothed in another lovely dress from Louisa's closet, I meet Calder on the lawn. I called my dad while I was getting dressed, and though he sounded as tired and flustered as ever, he was thrilled with the work Garrett’s done since I called him. He told me that Garrett was at the Center all day yesterday, and that he’d already managed to elicit enough donations to get us through the month. He said he had every faith that my loathsome ex was exactly what we needed to turn things around. I didn't tell my dad about all the calls and messages. I didn't want to spoil his mood. I haven't heard him this excited and hopeful in months.

Garrett himself called me again this morning, but I let it go straight to voicemail. I'm shocked he hasn't gotten the hint by now, but that's Garrett for you. He's determined, I'll give him that much.

I leave my phone on my bed. Garrett can disappear with the rest of my real-world problems. This morning is about the gardens.

And
damn
, are these some gardens.

Calder leads me around the side of the house, and my breath catches in my throat when I see the grounds open up in front of us. Sure, the storm knocked down some branches and leaves, but it hardly lessens the effect—this place is beautiful. I'm reminded of the impression I had when I first stood outside the gates: it's like some overgrown enchanted garden out of a fairy tale. Here, next to the house, someone has laid out the beds in an ornate diamond pattern.

The beds themselves are wild with flowers—far more than I could ever identify—but I recognize asters and the chrysanthemums among the early-autumn blooms. The section closest to the house is full of herbs, and several small, flowering trees stand at the corners of the path. At the center, where all the beds come together, I spot a trickling stone fountain.

“This is… this is amazing.”

I look up to find Calder watching me intently. He's clearly pleased by my reaction.

“This is like something out of a storybook,” I say, moving deeper into the garden. It's a cheesy sentiment, I know, but I feel a childish sort of excitement. I almost feel like a princess, wandering around a place like this.

I glance back over my shoulder at my dashing “prince.” He smiles at me warmly, his whole face blooming.

I quickly turn back around. There I go, getting caught up in silly romantic notions and forgetting why I'm even here in the first place. How much does it cost to maintain a garden like this? Probably a lot more than all of the Center's programs combined.

But I'm not supposed to be thinking about this anymore. I had my chance to win us the money, and I failed.
And I enjoyed that failure, too
, a voice in my head whispers.

By the time we reach the edge of the fountain, the glow of excitement has dimmed. Outside in the light of day, I’m confronted once again by the ridiculousness of my actions. What was I thinking, sleeping with him? How had I allowed myself to get so distracted, to forget why I came here, even for a minute? How can I look at him now, after everything that's happened, and be at all confused about my feelings for him? He's not a prince. He’s a man who lives in excess while refusing to fulfill the pledge his family made to the Center. Having sex doesn’t change that.

Calder doesn't seem to notice my sudden shift in mood. He stands next to me at the edge of the fountain, looking down at the water. I myself look up at the stone sculpture that crowns the piece. It's a pair of horses, heads held high and tails flowing in an imaginary wind. Water spews out of the mouth of each of the stoic beasts, following a graceful arc into the pool below.

“My father had this fountain specially commissioned,” Calder says. “The one on the left was modeled after my sister's horse. The one on the right is mine. Rudolph, I called him. Louisa and I used to pretend that some curse had turned them to stone and it was up to us to free them.”

I want to smile, but I don’t. “Rudolph? Like the reindeer?”

“He was a Christmas present,” Calder says with a shrug. “I wanted a reindeer, but my father said they couldn't survive outside the North Pole. I was pretty torn up over it, truth be told. But Rudolph is a great horse. The best I could ever ask for.”

“Where is he now?” I say, glancing around. “Didn't you say you had stables here?” I’ve always loved horses. Maybe they could help lighten my mood again.

Calder's smile falls from his face.

“I sold him this past summer.” He reaches down and runs his fingers along the surface of the water. The pool is murky from the recent rain, and a number of twigs and leaves have collected at the bottom.

Sold it, like he sold the family’s boat? Is this about his father, too?

“Why?” It's a dangerous question, but I ask it anyway.

He looks back up at me, and for a moment I see it again, that sadness that he keeps buried away. Before I can stop myself, I'm reaching toward him, and my fingers brush against his cheek. He doesn't move. I lightly sweep a bit of hair away from his temple. I don't know what I'm doing, and I know I’m being foolish, but I can't bring myself to break his intense gaze.

“Why?” I ask again. This time my voice is no more than a whisper. I feel like I'm on the verge of something, like he's about to open up to me about whatever dark feelings he's been suppressing. His lips part slightly, and I give him another encouraging caress across his cheek.

“It's not important.” He steps away from my touch. “Anyway, I'm too busy to properly care for a horse.” He turns and begins to walk around the base of the fountain. “What do you say? The maze next?”

“Wait,” I say. This is the closest he’s come to opening up to me since I’ve been here. “Don't you—I mean, it
is
important, you know. You're clearly upset about selling him. I don't mind if you talk about it.”

He pauses, but when he turns back toward me his face is carefully blank.

“It doesn't really matter. Honestly. I've only ridden him a handful of times in the past few years. He's better off at his new home.”

“I don't believe that. It's obvious you loved him. And you're here now. You could spend time with him again.”

Calder's eyes are cold. “I told you, I don't want to talk about it.”

He turns and starts down the path once more, but I catch up with him quickly.

“Well maybe you need to talk about it,” I say. “He was important to you.”

He stops and turns on me. “What do you know about any of it?”

His glare is deadly, but I won't let him intimidate me. I meet his gaze without flinching.

“I know you have a lot of pain in you,” I say. I know I’m treading on dangerous ground, but I press on anyway. “I know you're having a hard time dealing with your father's death. Your sister's on the other side of the world, your horse is gone. The only other person I've seen in this place is Martin, but unless I'm missing something, I don't think you're talking to him about any of this. You shouldn't keep these feelings bottled up. They'll eat you alive.”

“Are you my therapist now?” he demands. “What, we fuck for a couple of days and suddenly you think you can see into my soul or something?”

I stagger back, feeling like he's slapped me across the face. But he’s not done.

“You expect me to open up to you,” he says, raking his hand through his hair, “but you’re in such denial about your own baggage that you don’t even realize that
you’re
the one pushing away. That ex sure screwed you up something good.”

“I was only trying to help,” I murmur.

“You’re not helping. What part of that don’t you understand? We had some fun, that’s it. I don’t care about your life story, and I’m definitely not interested in sharing mine.”

“Which is it, then?” I snap. “You’re either pissed that I pushed you away or you’re pissed that I dared to show you some concern. You can’t have it both ways!”

“But you can? One minute you’re upset that I won’t talk about my father, and the next you’re upset that I’ve presumed to ask you about your ex. You expect me to open up to you, but I’ll be damned if you’ve shown me even a hint of what’s going on in your own head.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’ve tried, time and again, to talk to you about the Center, and—”

“Ah, the Center! ‘Center, Center, Center,’ every five minutes. The Center’s just an excuse. Can’t you see that?”

“An
excuse
? For what?”

“For everything! You’ve buried yourself in this little mission of yours so you don’t have to think about how you really feel or what you really want.”

“So you’re the therapist now? You have
no idea
what I want.”

“Neither do you, apparently.”

After all my tumultuous feelings of the past few days, those words are the final straw.

“Forget it,” I say. “Fuck it. I'm leaving. Fuck you, fuck this house, fuck the floods. I'm going home, and I don't care if I have to swim there.” I turn and storm up the path, back toward the door. I'll run in and grab my purse, and then I plan on getting as far away from this place as I can.

But just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, the universe decides to screw with me some more. I charge around the corner of the house, and I almost have an aneurysm when I see who’s standing at the base of the steps.

There, right next to one of those ridiculous stone lions, is Garrett.

He looks up and sees me before my brain can even begin to make sense of the situation.

“Lils,” he says, coming toward me. “Thank God.”

It's too much. It's all too much.

“What are you doing here?” I say. “What the hell, Garrett?”