Free Truth or Dare (His Wicked Games #2) by Ember Casey

CHAPTER
ONE
     
     
    I’m elbows-deep in invoices when a shadow
falls across my desk.
    “Just a minute, Dad,” I say without looking
up. My pen scratches across the paper, slashing through the numbers
I spent all morning typing up. “Leda Collins called and changed her
head count again. Now she needs twelve round tables and ten extra
chairs. I told her there’d be a rush charge on the additional
linens, but she said she was fine with that.”
    I push a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
I’ve been staring at this latest batch of invoices for so long that
my eyes are starting to cross.
    “Have you heard from the Robinsons?” I
continue, turning to my computer. “They were supposed to call and
confirm for the twenty-eighth. And we should probably figure out
when we’re doing the summer gallery show next year. I already have
a bride who wants to use us for her reception in—”
    A hand grasps me firmly by the chin and tilts
my face up. Suddenly I’m staring into a pair of dark, intoxicating
eyes, and my breath hitches in my throat.
    “What’s this?” says a deep, familiar voice.
“Have you forgotten about something?”
    Even now, weeks after I broke onto his
family’s estate, the sight of Calder Cunningham still makes my
stomach flip-flop. He’s looking extra sexy right now, the broad
line of his shoulders accentuated by his navy suit, his hair
curling deliciously around his ears, the corner of his perfect lips
curled up in amusement. But if he’s here, that can only mean one
thing.
    “Shit!” I say, pulling out of his grip. I
scrabble around on the desk, looking for my cell, but I already
know what the time will say. When I do find the phone, buried
beneath a file of class registration forms, the screen reads
6:53PM.
    Shit. Shit shit shit.
    “I swear, the last time I glanced at the time
it was three o’clock.” I dart around the desk, looking frantically
for my bag. If I hurry, if I leave my hair up and go light on the
makeup—
    Calder catches me as I try to sweep past him
and draws me toward him. The motion pulls me off-balance, and I
fall against his chest, my hands clutching at the smooth lapels of
his jacket and my nose brushing the crook of his neck. I freeze,
and he loops his arms around my waist and holds me there. He smells
faintly of soap and, beneath that, his own intoxicating scent. I
take a deep breath, breathing him in. It’s been too long since I’ve
seen him, too long since he’s held me like this in his arms.
    Okay, it’s only been three weeks. Three weeks
since Calder chased me through the hedge maze on his former estate.
Three weeks since I’ve had him in front of me, close enough to
touch. Three weeks since his fingers skimmed across my bare skin,
as they’re dancing over my neck right now. Those three weeks might
as well have been a lifetime, as badly as I’ve missed him.
    But of course, screwup that I am, I lose
track of time on the day of our first real date.
    “I’m so sorry,” I say. “I swear, I—”
    He silences me with his lips. His mouth is
gentle at first, hesitant, like he’s uncertain how I’ll respond
after our time apart. Like he’s forgotten how natural, how right our bodies feel against each other. But the minute his
lips touch mine, my entire body comes alive. Goose bumps ripple
across my flesh, chasing the waves of heat that rush just beneath
the surface of my skin. I let out a small moan, and whatever doubts
Calder had seem to disappear.
    He yanks me against his body, crushing me to
his hard chest. His mouth moves hungrily, desperately, against my
own, and mine meets his with equal passion. I revel in the taste of
him, eager to drink it all in.
    Damn, I missed this.
    He’s backing me up against my desk now, and I
don’t protest when he pushes me down on top of it. Something falls
to the floor beside us. My files? The invoices? Honestly, I don’t
care. One of Calder’s hands moves around the small of my back while
the other winds in my hair, his