"Lily?" Calder reaches out and touches me again, this time along my exposed collarbone. "Is something wrong?"
Only that my ex is insane and won't leave me alone. I shouldn't have asked Garrett for a favor. I should have listened to my gut. But desperation makes people do crazy things.
"Everything's fine," I say, sliding the phone back into my pocket. I'll deal with Garrett later.
"It doesn't seem fine," Calder says. If I didn't know any better, I'd almost say there was genuine concern in his voice.
"It's nothing you should worry about." I reach down again and grapple about in the darkness for my tank top. "I don't know about you, but I'm freezing down here. I hope you don't intend to keep me here all night."
Calder sighs behind me. I hear the rustle of fabric as he grabs his own pants from the ground and pulls them back on.
"I suppose it's about time we moved this party to an actual bed." If he's offended by my sudden coldness, he doesn't sound it. "There are a few things I'd like yet to show you."
The promise in his voice stirs something in my belly, but I push the feeling away. I can't afford to keep giving into these sensations. I already feel like I'm going mad.
Calder's hand brushes my shoulder in the darkness, then slides down my spine to settle on my lower back.
"Come on," he says, his tone like warm honey. "Let's head upstairs. I'll have Martin bring us something in my bedroom."
I want to refuse him. I should refuse him. But I've lost this argument with myself so many times already, and I'm still too weak to win it.
Besides, I tell myself, I've already lost the Center. What happens now doesn't matter. I have nothing more to lose, so why not give in to the urges that seem to have taken control of my body?
When Calder leans over and slips his tongue in my ear, I know I'm lost. I follow him from the dark room without hesitation, giving myself willingly to the night ahead.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
An hour later, I lie naked in Calder's bed.
Calder himself stands next to a cart of food that Martin brought up a little while ago. I can't decide where to look: at the gorgeous plates of food he’s revealing one by one or the equally-gorgeous vision of his well-muscled body. In this light, his tanned skin is a pale bronze, and his hair looks even darker—almost black. The shadows play across his pecs and abs in a way that highlights every groove, every firm round edge of muscle beneath his taut skin. I finally have the chance to notice the dusting of hair on his chest, and the way his waist narrows from his broad shoulders into a perfect V. By my estimation, he's the perfect specimen of a man—why no one's tried to carve a copy of this one out of marble yet, I can't guess.
"Like what you see?"
I glance up to find Calder smiling at me with amusement. I sit up quickly on the bed, embarrassed to be caught staring.
"I'm only eager for the food," I say, but I know he knows better, even if the heat on my cheeks doesn't give me away.
Calder sets down the dish he's holding and walks over to the bed.
"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," he says. His fingers slip beneath my hair and he tilts my head back to look at him. Our eyes lock, and he holds my gaze as his thumb drifts up and down the column of my throat.
"There's nothing wrong with looking," he tells me. “I've spent the better part of these past few days looking at you."
I feel like I should say something, but I can't find the words.
"You're beautiful, Lily. A goddess. Does it bother you that I want to admire your body?"
Not at all, truth be told. But I've never had a guy come out and ask me a question like that so bluntly before.
"It doesn't bother me," I manage.
The corner of Calder's mouth twists up, but it's no longer amusement that marks his features—rather something ravenous and wicked. He lowers me gently onto my back on the bed and drags the comforter away from my body.
His eyes dance over my skin, starting with my neck and moving all the way down to my toes. His gaze is so intense that I swear I can almost feel the heat of that smolder on my skin. There's a trail of tingling nerves down the length of my body, and he hasn't even touched me yet.
When he does touch me, just above the collarbone, it's like my flesh jumps to meet him. Still, I remain perfectly motionless as his finger brushes back and forth.
"At first," he says softly, "I thought your neck was the loveliest part of your body." His mouth curls lazily. "It was back at that fundraiser you threw for your organization. You wore this black gown, and your hair was up. I remember thinking how long and graceful your neck looked."
I must make a face because his eyebrow quirks up.
"What? Don't believe me?"
“You remember what I wore to Arts & Hearts?”
“Of course.”
“But you looked so bored.”
He laughs. “I’d just stepped off a flight from Rome. I was fighting a jetlag headache from hell. Anyway,” he says, tracing my lower lip with his fingers, “how could I be bored when I got to watch you all night?”
I want to believe him, but I have a feeling he’s just feeding me a line.
"Even if you’re telling the truth about that," I say. “I don’t believe for a minute that you were checking out my neck, of all things. Men don’t think that way. The first things men notice are your breasts or your ass, depending on which way you're facing."
He chuckles and runs his fingers across the curve of my shoulder.
"I'm not going to dispute what other men may or may not admire first. But I remember you very clearly, Ms. Frazer. As I said, you were wearing a black gown. Your neck and shoulders were completely bare. No jewelry or anything." He reaches up and weaves his hand in my hair. "Your hair was up, but one tendril managed to escape and fall along here." He twists a section of my hair around his finger and lays it against the column of my neck.
My heart is fluttering in my chest. I reach up and grab the section of hair from his hand and toss it back in with the rest. The passionate, dominant Calder I can handle—the one who leaves bruises on my skin and shoves my shirt into my mouth to keep me silent—but I don't know how to deal with this gentler version of him. Yes, I wore a black gown to the Arts & Hearts fundraiser. I'd meant to wear a strand of pearls, but in the rush of preparations I'd forgotten to put them on. I'd done my hair myself, and I'm not surprised to hear that a tendril escaped, but I am surprised that he noticed. That he remembers, even now.