His Wicked Games (His Wicked Games #1)
stiffen beneath my pajama top.
What would Calder do if he knew I was here? If he knew I was
growing aroused at the same movie he watched, at the sight of his
hand around himself? I slide my phone into my pocket and move that
hand up under my top to tease one of my nipples. In my mind it's
his hand, his fingers pinching and pulling and twisting. In my mind
I'm in his room, next to him on the bed, and it's my hand wrapped
around him, sliding up and down his length.
    The ache between my legs is building to the
point of pain.
    In the room, Calder's hand begins to pump a
little faster. His breathing has quickened with his movements. My
own breathing is short and shallow. I can't see his face, but I
remember the way his eyes burned into mine, the hunger I saw in
their depths. He wanted me. Maybe he wants me still. Maybe it's me
he's thinking of now, just as I'm thinking of him. I move my hand
further between my legs and slip one finger inside.
    On the screen, the girls appear to follow my
lead. The one on top has moved aside just enough to be able to
reach between her partner's legs. The other girl moans and writhes
against her.
    Calder makes a sound in his throat. He's
getting close. I am, too. It's all I can do to fight back the moan
forming in my own throat. This is wrong, so very wrong, but I can't
help myself. I can't remember the last time I was this aroused by
anything. The wickedness of it all just makes my body respond all
the more.
    On the bed, Calder sucks in a breath. I slump
against the wall, no longer able to watch and hold myself upright
at the same time. I increase the speed and pressure of the hand
between my legs. I'm no longer concerned about hiding the heavy
sound of my breathing. I'm too far gone to care.
    I want him. Fuck it, I want him. I don't care
if he's a selfish jerk. I still want him. I want him to throw me up
against the wall and ram his fingers inside of me. I want him to
make me scream.
    Climax hits me hard, rushing over me with
such intensity that I let out a moan before I can stop myself. I
freeze, my wet hand still between my legs, waves of pleasure still
shuddering through my body. My legs are shaking. I stay against the
wall, unable to move, terrified. There's no way he didn't hear my
moan. No way.
    I wait for a secret door to come flying open,
for Calder to burst into the passageway and catch me at my spying,
but nothing happens.
    Maybe he thought my sound of pleasure had
come from one of the actresses on the television. Maybe he was so
caught up in his own pleasure that he thought he'd imagined it.
    The euphoria is fading from me now, and with
it reality sets in: I just spied on Calder while he touched
himself. I just watched that, and I was so aroused by the whole
thing that I touched myself, too.
    I force myself away from the wall. My heart
is careening wildly and my legs are still trembling, but I can't
stay here. I can't believe what I've done. I can't believe I let it
get this far. I hurry down the passageway, back toward my room.
    This never happened , I tell
myself.
    Still, I can tell already that my body won't
let me forget this anytime soon.
    * * *
    Morning comes too quickly. My hair is still
wet from the shower I took after returning to my room last night,
but I don't care. I switch out of Louisa's pajamas and back into my
clothes from yesterday. They're stiff and crusty from the dried
mud, but that doesn't matter. I'm eager to get out of here as soon
as I can. If I can sneak out without running into Calder, then all
the better. He doesn't really deserve more than a thank-you note, I
tell myself. Not after what he's done to the Center. It's cowardly,
I know, but I don't know how to face him, not after last night. I
don't think I can look at him again after what I've done.
    But luck isn't on my side. When I open the
door to the hallway, hoping to slip out quietly, I find myself face
to face with Calder. He stands there in front of me, fist raised as
if he'd been about to knock on my

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