Home > Truth or Dare (His Wicked Games #2)(45)

Truth or Dare (His Wicked Games #2)(45)
Author: Ember Casey

Instead, he slowly steers the car off the road, pulling onto the grassy shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer. He puts the car into park, kills the gas. I open my mouth to repeat my question, but then he’s unbuckling my seatbelt, pulling me toward him.

Any confusion I have is lost when his lips come down on mine.

CHAPTER TWELVE

He kisses me like it’s the first time. He kisses me like he’ll never have the chance to kiss me again. His arms are strong and gentle around me. His mouth is soft and hard, pleading and demanding, and I can do nothing but fall against him. He moves his lips across my cheek, tracing the paths of my tears.

“You’re the most amazing, breathtaking woman I’ve ever met,” he whispers against my skin. “I swear, if I ever see that prick again—I don’t care if he isn’t violating the restraining order. I’m going to kick his ass.”

He shoves me back against my seat, but when he moves his hands over my chest, his touch is delicate, worshiping.

“That bastard was an idiot,” he says. “And I could kill him for hurting you.”

“I’m all right,” I assure him.

Calder doesn’t reply. He brushes a strand of hair away from my forehead. His eyes bore into mine, and I feel like he’s finally seeing all those little pieces of my soul I’ve kept hidden from him. I knew he had shadows hidden away, but I’ve been avoiding acknowledging my own.

“It’s his fault you don’t believe me when I compliment you, isn’t it?” he says softly.

“I believe you,” I insist. “I just… these things are never just simple, are they?”

I don’t like it, feeling this exposed in front of him. Because that’s how I feel—naked and raw and completely powerless. I try to turn my face away from him, try to escape that intrusive gaze, but he pulls me back. I have no choice.

“I will never, ever ask you to change Wentworth Cunninghamch lQ,” he says. “I never want you to think, even for a minute, that you aren’t perfect, just as you are.” Something flickers in his eyes. “I accused you yesterday of being brash and never thinking of others. I was angry when I said those things, but at myself, not you. The truth is that you’re the most generous person I know. You care so deeply and passionately for the people around you that you leap at any chance to help them, no matter what the risk or consequence to yourself. You’re incredible.”

“Except when I’m teasing you. Or just trying to aggravate you,” I say with a laugh.

But Calder doesn’t miss a beat. “Especially then. When you’re stubborn. Or reckless. Or bent on infuriating me. I don’t care. You’re still extraordinary. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

I’m tearing up again, but he still won’t let me look away.

“I wish I could carry you away,” he says.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?”

“No, I mean actually away. Somewhere far from here.” He looks down at me with a small, sad smile. “But I know you’d never agree. You have too much for you here.”

He knows me well. I wish we could run off together, if only for a little while, but I can’t abandon Dad and the Center. In the meantime, though, I’m going to appreciate what I have right in front of me, and I’m going to make sure he feels that appreciation. I can’t promise him forever, not like this. But I can give him everything in this moment, right here, right now.

I reach up and take his face between my hands.

“I want you,” I say. “Now. I need you now.”

He doesn’t say a word. He just bows his head and kisses me. He grabs the straps that crisscross my body.

“I still think it suits you,” he says, pulling at the lingerie.

“Just take it off.”

“Get in the backseat.”

I climb over the center console while he leaps out of the car and comes in through the back door. He grabs me by the waist and pushes me down against the seat and begins the complicated process of pulling me out of my strappy, sequined get-up.

We both lose patience with it very quickly.

“Fuck this,” Calder says, reaching for his belt. He pushes down his pants before reaching for the sequined heart over my crotch and shoving it aside.

He sinks into me. I’m sore from our wild and repeated exertions of the past two days, and I moan as he fills me.

We’ve had sex in a car before. It was one of the most intense experiences of my life. This is equally as intense, but in a different way; every brush of his lips, every touch of his fingers, every stroke of his cock is a prayer, a plea, a promise. His body begs me to trust him, to open myself to him further, to abandon all the doubts and fears and everything else that’s come between us these past few weeks.

Calder plunges into me, again and again until my brain knows nothing else but him. He’s filling every part of me—mind, body, and soul.

I wrap my legs around him, arch up to meet him, rock against his hard length in an attempt to get even closer. I’m afraid we’ll never be close enough.

I peak quickly. Calder isn’t far behind. He lets out a groan and pushes deep into me, and we ride out the waves of pleasure together.

* * *

It’s mid-afternoon by the time we move again. I manage to escape the lingerie, and Calder helps me pull on my normal clothes.

Neither of us says a word as we move back into the front seats. Calder cranks the car into gear and pulls back onto the road, and I lean back against my seat and try to calm my galloping heart. Something has changed. Despite the fact that I’m now more clothed than I’ve been for the better part of the weekend, I still feel naked. Bare. Raw.

I love him.

God, I love him. I haven’t wanted to admit it before now. This whole thing has been so wild, so passionate, so crazy—I suspected, in some part of my heart, that it would only come crashing down around my ears one day. I’m still not sure it won’t. That’s the problem with these intense affairs, isn’t it? They flare bright but nearly always go up in flames. Whether it’s a huge blaze or a sl Wentworth Cunninghamtyleshow burn-out depends on the couple.

I don’t want it to be either.

I glance over at Calder. Every time we make love, I feel like we get closer—that we cross the threshold into some perfect understanding of each other. But as soon as we let go, as soon as we stand up and put on our clothes and get back to life, that connection slips slowly away, second by second. The same problems still lie between us, only this time they’re complicated by our recent emotional and physical intimacy.

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