His Wicked Games: A Billionaire Romance (The Cunningham Family #1)

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.