Title: Truth or Dare
Author: Ember Casey
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: August 26, 2013
Calder 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 fingers twisting and pulling at the strands. He leans over me, nudging my thighs apart so he can press nearer. There’s a clatter as something else tumbles off the desk. Something big this time—probably that dinosaur of a three-hole punch we’ve had since this place opened.
There’s no way Dad didn’t hear that.
I push Calder off of me and sit up, grabbing him by the tie even as my dad’s voice floats in from the next room. “Lily? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine! It’s nothing!” I tug Calder around the desk and shove him down onto the floor. He’s too surprised to resist or argue, and I pray that he catches the warning in my glare. I’m just bending to pick up the three-hole punch when Dad appears in the doorway.
“Is everything okay, honey?”
“Yeah,” I say, waving the beast of a gadget at him. “Just knocked a couple of things off my desk.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Calder raise his eyebrows in surprise. I give him a small kick, hoping he gets the hint.
Dad is looking curiously at me, and I realize suddenly how disheveled I must appear. My hands skim over my shirt, my skirt. And—oh, God—my hair…
“It’s been a rough day,” I say, trying to brush it off, hoping against hope that my face isn’t as red as it feels. Crap, are my lips swollen?
But my dad either doesn’t notice or chooses not to see.
“That Collins woman again?” he says. “She’s been a real trip.”
I nod. “Called and changed her numbers again. I—”
Calder is touching me. His fingers are sliding up my leg—softly, slowly, sending shivers all the way up my thigh. I clear my throat and try to shift away from him, but his hand follows.
“I—I redid the invoices,” I manage, indicating the papers that are still on the floor. Calder’s hand has slipped beneath the hem of my skirt now, and it’s slowly inching its way upward. His breath is warm against my ankle. When I try to gently nudge his face away, he nips at my skin and flicks his tongue sensually along the back of my leg. I try not to squirm.
“How many do they have coming?” Dad asks.
It’s hard to remember the number with Calder’s mouth teasing my ankle and his fingers caressing my thigh. “Two hundred and twelve, I think?”
Dad whistles. “A big one.”
“We need it.” I lean forward and grip the desk, trying to keep my face blank. Calder’s ever-climbing hand is now tickling my strategically-closed thighs, trying to force me to part them. In spite of the situation, my body reacts instinctively to the touch. Heat pools in my lower belly, a contrast to the panicked lump in my throat. I’m having trouble breathing normally, and my face and neck feel warmer with every passing second. I swear, if my dad finds out about us like this, Calder’s going to get it. And by “it” I don’t mean the prize he’s currently seeking between my legs.
I shift again, and this time I feel my heel connect with Calder’s cheek. He sucks in a breath, and I cough to cover up the sound.
Dad’s frowning. Great, he must have heard.
But no—he’s shaking his head. “Didn’t you have dinner plans with a friend?”
“Yes. Yes I do.” I smile. “I was just about to change.”
Dad’s smiling again. “Good. You’ve been working too much these past few weeks.”
“I could say the same of you.”
It’s true, but if I’m being honest, Dad looks the best he has in months. When the Frazer Center for the Arts was on the brink of closing, he was a mess. I’ve never seen him look so old, so tired, so haggard. But now he might be a decade younger. He’s smiling more—laughing, even—and, as cheesy as it sounds, the sparkle is back in his eyes. We’re not completely out of danger yet, but we’re moving steadily in the right direction, and that positive energy has been enough to make Dad excited about this place again.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” he says. “You have fun tonight, honey.”
No sooner has he turned away than Calder grabs my hand and yanks me down beside him—or, more accurately, on top of him.
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About the Author
Ember Casey is a twenty-something writer who lives in Atlanta, Georgia in a den of iniquity (or so she likes to tell people). When she's not writing steamy romances, you can find her whipping up baked goods (usually of the chocolate variety), traveling (her bucket list is infinite), or generally causing trouble (because somebody has to do it). She is the author of HIS WICKED GAMES and TRUTH OR DARE.