Free His Wicked Games (His Wicked Games #1) by Ember Casey

from
there.”
    My stomach twists. “What?”
    “The top of the house,” he clarifies,
flashing an amused smile.
    I look away. He’s doing that on purpose,
trying to make me blush, but I won’t let him think he’s unsettled
me. He can’t know I’m attracted to him—and he definitely can’t get
any hint that anything might have happened last night.
    “That sounds good,” I tell him evenly.
    I study my host out of the corner of my eye.
Today he's wearing a gray T-shirt and dark jeans. He looks so normal . If I passed him on the street I'd never guess he
came from all this. My eyes linger on the way his sleeves stretch
over his shoulders, the way his hair curls down around the collar.
He still hasn't shaved, but he doesn't look sloppy. Just
deliciously sexy.
    I glance away before I get worked up again.
I'm not here to ogle Calder. I'm not some sort of animal or sex
fiend. I'm a professional woman who came here to save her dad's
life’s work.
    Calder leads me up a flight of stairs. My
bedroom was already on the second floor—where the heck is he taking
me? My question is answered when we reach the top and he throws
open a door. Cold air rushes in around us. He's brought me up to
the roof.
    “I hope you’re not afraid of getting a little
wet,” he says, his eyebrow quirking.
    I try to ignore the sexual implication of his
words.
    His hand grazes my lower back as he ushers me
outside. A tingle races across my skin. I step away from him, but
the heat from his touch lingers on my spine.
    The roof is, no surprise, spectacularly
beautiful. This section is covered by a high pavilion ceiling, and
globe lanterns dangle from the beams. There's an entire freaking
kitchen up here—complete with a large stone oven—a full bar, and of
course the sort of furniture that puts the grungy couch in my
apartment to shame. Beyond the pavilion, a pool stretches across
the roof, its silvery surface dappled by rain. The surrounding
patio is done in gorgeous red-brown stone. The whole scene looks
like something I've only ever seen on one of those fancy television
design shows.
    “What do you think?” Calder says. “Want to go
for a swim?”
    I must show my shock on my face because he
lets out a laugh.
    “Haven’t you ever been for a swim in the
rain?” he asks. “You get damp either way.”
    I’m not sure if he’s being serious or
not.
    “I don’t have a swimsuit,” I remind him.
    The corner of his mouth curls up. “Not a
problem.”
    Before I can utter another word, he pulls his
t-shirt over his head, exposing his perfectly chiseled chest.
    My mouth falls open, but I snap it quickly
shut again.
    “What are you doing?” I say.
    He grins. “Swimming.”
    His hands move to the button of his
jeans.
    “Are you stripping?” I’m unable to keep the
shock out of my voice.
    “I’m not going to swim in my jeans,” he says
matter-of-factly. His fingers pause on the zipper. “You’re welcome
to join me, of course.”
    “I—” My entire face is on fire. “I’m not
going to take off my clothes.”
    He shrugs. “Suit yourself. You’re missing
out, though.” He unzips his jeans and slides them down in one
movement, revealing a pair of dark boxer-briefs.
    Once more I’m bombarded with memories of last
night, of his naked body reclining on the bed. Of the way I touched
myself at the sight of him.
    My body responds in turn now. I clench my
hands and unclench them again, trying to gain control of
myself.
    Calder hooks his thumbs in the waistband, and
my heartbeat quickens. Is he going to pull those off, too?
    “For someone who’s shy about skinny-dipping,
you certainly have no qualms about watching,” he says.
    I almost fall over.
    “I—I’m not watching,” I say, quickly turning
away. “You’re the one who tore off your pants without warning.” I
imagine I’m the color of a ripe tomato right about now.
    He chuckles. “Come, Ms. Frazer. It’s nothing
you haven’t seen before.”
    My blood runs cold. Oh my God.