His Wicked Games (His Wicked Games 1)

"I hope you’re not afraid of getting a little wet,” he says, his eyebrow quirking.

I try to ignore the sexual implication of his words.

His hand grazes my lower back as he ushers me outside. A tingle races across my skin. I step away from him, but the heat from his touch lingers on my spine.

The roof is, no surprise, spectacularly beautiful. This section is covered by a high pavilion ceiling, and globe lanterns dangle from the beams. There's an entire freaking kitchen up here—complete with a large stone oven—a full bar, and of course the sort of furniture that puts the grungy couch in my apartment to shame. Beyond the pavilion, a pool stretches across the roof, its silvery surface dappled by rain. The surrounding patio is done in gorgeous red-brown stone. The whole scene looks like something I've only ever seen on one of those fancy television design shows.

"What do you think?" Calder says. "Want to go for a swim?"

I must show my shock on my face because he lets out a laugh.

“Haven’t you ever been for a swim in the rain?” he asks. “You get damp either way.”

I’m not sure if he’s being serious or not.

“I don’t have a swimsuit,” I remind him.

The corner of his mouth curls up. “Not a problem.”

Before I can utter another word, he pulls his t-shirt over his head, exposing his perfectly-chiseled chest.

My mouth falls open, but I snap it quickly shut again.

“What are you doing?” I say.

He grins. “Swimming.”

His hands move to the button of his jeans.

“Are you stripping?” I’m unable to keep the shock out of my voice.

“I’m not going to swim in my jeans,” he says matter-of-factly. His fingers pause on the zipper. “You’re welcome to join me, of course.”

“I—” My entire face is on fire. “I’m not going to take off my clothes.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself. You’re missing out, though.” He unzips his jeans and slides them down in one movement, revealing a pair of dark boxer-briefs.

Once more I’m bombarded with memories of last night, of his naked body reclining on the bed. Of the way I touched myself at the sight of him.

My body responds in turn now. I clench my hands and unclench them again, trying to gain control of myself.

Calder hooks his thumbs in the waistband, and my heartbeat quickens. Is he going to pull those off, too?

“For someone who’s shy about skinny-dipping, you certainly have no qualms about watching,” he says.

I almost fall over.

“I—I’m not watching,” I say, quickly turning away. “You’re the one who tore off your pants without warning.” I imagine I’m the color of a ripe tomato right about now.

He chuckles. “Come, Ms. Frazer. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

My blood runs cold. Oh my God. He knows about last night.

“What—what’s that supposed to mean?” I demand, still refusing to turn and look at him. “What are you implying?”

“Forgive me,” he says, his voice thick with amusement. “I didn’t mean to give offense. I was only suggesting that by this point in your life you’ve probably seen a naked man or two—unless I’m mistaken?”

“I’m not a virgin,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with men just stripping off their clothes in front of me.” No, but I’m all right with spying on those same men while they pleasure themselves in their bedroom.

Forget the ripe tomato—I’m probably as red as a fire truck right now.

“Well,” says Calder behind me, “if you’re not comfortable with complete nudity, then maybe we can keep our undergarments on.”

“I’m not swimming.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” he says. “May I remind you that you broke onto my property? That I had to wrestle you down in the mud? Certainly you can’t be afraid of taking a little dip in the rain.”

“I’m not afraid,” I say, spinning on him angrily. He’s closer than I thought—just in front of me now. There’s still a bit of amusement around the corners of his mouth, but his dark eyes bore into me. Butterflies dance in my stomach.

“If you’re not afraid,” he says, his voice breathy and low, “then why are you resisting?”

He’s so close that I can feel the heat radiating off his skin, so close that I can smell the musky scent of his soap—or is that only him? All it would take is the smallest of movements and I could brush my fingers against his bare stomach, learn if his skin is as soft and smooth and hot as I imagined last night.

“I…” I don’t know what to say. I don’t have an excuse, not really, except for the general sense that this is a bad, bad idea.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

Calder must sense my indecision, because his eyes suddenly darken. Before I can react, he grabs me around the waist, just as he did on the lawn yesterday.

“What the—” I cry as he hoists me off my feet. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead he turns and starts carrying me to the pool.

“Put me down!” I cry, pissed that I fell for his trick a second time. “I swear, if you throw me—”

Suddenly I’m flying through the air, Calder’s arms still around me. We crash into the pool, and water rushes all around us.

He releases me when I start to struggle. I kick my way back up to the surface, gasping and coughing as I come up for air.

“What the hell?” Louisa’s dress is tangled around my knees and my hair is clinging to my face. I flip the wet strands away from my eyes.

Calder, meanwhile, is laughing his ass off.

“Come on. It’s just a little water.”

“I’m wearing your sister’s clothes,” I remind him. I felt bad enough about borrowing them in the first place.

“I offered you an alternative,” he says, still far too pleased with himself.

He stands up, and the water spills down his body. I try not to notice the way the drops slide down the grooves between his muscles. The corner of his mouth twists upward.

“Ugh,” I say, before he can accuse me of checking him out again. “You’re despicable, you know that?” I turn and start trudging through the water toward the ladder.

I hear sloshing as he moves after me.

“Come on, Ms. Frazer,” he says. “Just a little—”