Wicked Nights (14 page)

“So.” Piper paused, and for the first time he spied a hint of uncertainty, quickly banished, on her face.

He leaned against the wall and waited for her to make the next move in this game they were playing. This

was going to be good.

“Where do you want me?” he asked agreeably.

The sun was setting now, lighting up the ocean with color, but the light inside Piper’s house was soft

and golden. She picked up a sofa cushion and dropped it, sending motes of dust dancing in the sunshine.

Her housekeeping skills hadn’t improved any over the years.

Piper cursed and he held back a grin. She wasn’t getting out of this one with a witty comeback. She’d

started something she didn’t want to finish and, yeah, watching her squirm was fun. He’d tease a little bit

more—because this was
Piper
—and then he’d call Daeg and head back to his own place. He might not have

been in the cottage in years, but some things stayed the same. He headed for the hallway.

“Bedroom’s down here, right?”

“I need a beer,” she said behind him. “Or a margarita.”

The grin was unstoppable this time, but he had his back to her and she couldn’t see.

Finding her bedroom wasn’t hard to do. The cottage had only three bedrooms and, when he opened the

doors, two of them were clearly unused. Plus, she’d chosen the room he’d have picked, the one where he

could see the ocean from the bed. Piper had left her mark in here, too. The bed had enough height to

reenact the Princess and the Pea. Plus, the surface was buried beneath a mountain of useless little throw

pillows. Huh. Not what he would have imagined. He cleared a spot and lay down on the bed, legs stretched

in front of him and crossed.

The sound of a blender echoed down the hallway. Apparently, Piper had meant one thing tonight. It was

margarita time.

“You want me naked?” he hollered.

She ignored him, so he removed his boots and set them on the floor where he could grab them if he had

to make a quick retreat. He also texted Daeg and asked him to bring his truck out here. The SEALs had

taught him it was always wise to establish an escape route early on.

Daeg was on it, too. Sure thing. Do I need to alert the cops now?

Right. Cal texted back: Ha ha.

Then, because Piper was taking her own sweet time getting back to him, he sent a couple of texts about

the rescue dive program he’d put together.

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”

Piper slouched in the doorway. She’d made one margarita. Apparently, he didn’t merit a drink. Just sex.

He patted the bed beside him.

“You coming over here?”

She glared, but she also looked tempted. He hadn’t expected that. She took an angry swallow of her

drink, and he had no idea what was running through her head. It must have been good, though, because her

cheeks turned pink.

“You owe me a night.” She took another drink.

“If you want.” To his surprise, he meant it. What had started out as a joke and a dare was...something

more?

She came over to the bed and he fought the urge to reach up and pull her down into his arms. She

hadn’t turned and run down the hallway, which was something, but he didn’t know how far she really

wanted this to go. So he took the margarita glass from her and took a drink. And shuddered. Piper didn’t

make margaritas any better than she compromised. The drink was sickly sweet, the tequila a distant

afterthought. At least he’d be fine to drive.

She snatched the glass back from him, eyeing the drink level. Which was too bad. She should have

brought enough to share.

“I should put tonight to good use.” The smile lighting up her face was pure mischief. “How do you feel

about bondage?”

Bondage wasn’t something he’d ever been interested in experiencing firsthand. “If you tie me up, I’ll tie

you up.”

Her eyes darkened and he sucked in a breath. She was thinking about it—and she was turned on.

“Piper,” he crooned. He plucked the glass out of her hand and set it on the bedside table.

“I don’t like you.” She leaned forward.

The feeling was mutual. She was impetuous with an unforgivable side of rude. Plus, she’d insist on

being in charge of any relationship she had, and he’d never let anyone—male or female—dominate him, in

bed or out.

“Got it.” When he leaned forward to meet her halfway, their foreheads touched and he caught a whiff of

salt and tequila and something else. Something all Piper.

“You owe me,” she whispered, like she was trying to convince herself.

“A bet’s a bet,” he agreed. Besides, if she got tonight, then he’d get another night. His pulse picked up as

he thought about the possibility.

“So we’ll just get each other out of our systems,” she said, nodding like they’d both agreed to

something.

“Piper?” He whispered her name against her mouth.

“Yeah?” Her tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip.

“Shut up.”

He kissed her because he suddenly needed to, and he had no idea why. He’d never planned on kissing

Piper, but her eyes said she might be thinking the same things he was, and heat shot through him at just the

possibility. Her fingers curled in his T-shirt, tugging him closer, so he slid his hands along her neck,

threading his fingers through her flyaway curls to hold her nearer still. He kissed her and she kissed him

back, her mouth softening. Opening up to let him inside. Her breath came in little catches and he was pretty

sure the rough groan he heard was his own. His brain had her name on a desperate soundtrack of
Piper

Piper Piper.

Her fingers discovered the hem of his shirt and tugged. Perfectly willing to help her out, he broke off

their kiss long enough to help her draw his T-shirt over his head. She tossed it somewhere, wriggling out of

her own shorts, and then ran her hands up his chest and over his shoulders.
Perfect.
He found her mouth

again or she found his. He wasn’t sure which, but it didn’t matter. They were kissing each other again, long,

slow, hot kisses. Her tongue swept into his mouth, taking charge, and he wanted to grin. And thump his

chest. Roar out his pleasure. Any or all of the above.

Instead, he slid a thumb beneath the strap of her tank top, nudging the narrow strip down her shoulder.

Taking the hint, she shimmied her arms out. He had to open his eyes. Her bra had teased him the whole way

here, and, yeah...Piper had fabulous taste in lingerie. The satin cups were edged with something lacy and

perfectly, wonderfully naughty.

“You’re beautiful,” he said hoarsely.

“More kissing,” she demanded, uninterested in his opinions.

Kissing he could do. He swept his hands up and cupped her breasts through the soft fabric, rubbing a

thumb over the plump curves as he gave her what she’d asked for. More kissing, more touching.

The familiar sound of trucks pulling into the driveway had him breaking off.
Shit.
Daeg might as well

have marched a mariachi band down the driveway. Cal pulled back with a groan, resting his forehead

against hers.

“This is why locking the door is a good thing.”

The hard rap on her front door was followed by a brief pause. Cal could practically hear Daeg running

the pros and cons of opening it. In a community as neighborly and tightly knit as this one, that was what

you did. You knocked—and then you came in.

“You called in the cavalry?” Piper sat back. Her hair was drying into wayward corkscrews. Margarita

making had apparently trumped finding a hairbrush. She looked sexy and mussed and the
last
thing he

wanted to hear was Daeg’s repeat knock.

He sat up and her hands fell away. “I figured you’d want me gone at some point, and I didn’t want to

walk.”

Right. Because they both knew it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility she might kick him out and

make him hike the five miles back to town. In the dark.

“Would I do that to you?”

He looked at her. “I’m not sure. But we haven’t always gotten along.”

“Because you were bossy.”

“You were reckless.”

She made a show of looking down at her exposed bra. Daeg pounded again and called something.

“Case in point?”

“Maybe.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and settled back. “As long as we’re clear.”

He didn’t know if her words were his cue to leave or not, but he swung his legs over the side of the bed

and went to collect his keys.

* * *

PIPER’S WEEK HAD, frankly, sucked. Del planned on selling the dive shop out from under her. She

hadn’t gotten the Fiesta contract. Yet. She hadn’t gotten the contract
yet.
Nothing was going the way she’d

planned and, really, that had been the case since the man who’d been lying on her bed had pulled her out of

the water five years ago.

The murmur of voices reached her from the front door. Then the door shut. She’d bet ten bucks Cal

had locked it. Outside, a truck started up and drove off. She heard just the one engine, though, and

wondered if Cal had decided to stay. Sure enough, he reappeared in the door of her bedroom.

“Daeg and Tag say hi,” he said.

She flopped back onto the bed. “This is all your fault.”

“Everything?” he asked, coming over.

Yes. No. She wasn’t angry, more...at sea. She always had a plan and it always was a good one. Her plans

worked out. Cal wasn’t part of the plan. “You bet.”

He leaned against the door frame and opened his arms wide. “You’re in charge. I’m at your beck and

call.”

His small, lopsided grin had her wondering if he’d read her mind. That could be useful—or

embarrassing.

Those three words—you’re in charge—were the magic words she’d been waiting for, however. For no

good reason, she wanted this man. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Time to take action. Her

hair was salty and tangled from a day in and on the water. She liked the way her hair curled after a dive, but

she also had salt on her skin and in places she very much hoped Cal would be touching.
Kissing.

He straightened up. “Are you leaving?”

One point for her.

“I want a shower.” She paused just long enough to motion toward her margarita and then headed for the

bathroom door, shooting him a naughty grin. He definitely brought out her inner bad girl. “Bring my drink.”

“Is that an order?” His rough question had her pulse speeding up.

She smiled.

“Absolutely, beck-and-call boy.”

She stepped into the bathroom, achingly aware of the man following her. She might have only one night

—
two more,
her libido reminded her, but only one where she definitely got to be in charge—so she’d make

every minute count. Her bathroom was the first room she’d remodeled in the cottage, because she loved

baths. She’d scoured antiques shows in Marin County until she’d found the perfect piece, bribing one of

her brothers to drag the heavy white claw-foot tub back to Discovery Island. It was big enough for two, but

she’d also installed a rain shower.

She’d put every spare dime and hour she had into this room because it was her happy place, her refuge.

From the slate tiles in soothing gray to the tub by the window, looking out over the beach, she’d built out

her fantasies. Part of her wondered what Cal would think.

Part of her didn’t care.

He was
hers.

Temporarily, fantastically all
hers.

She reached into the shower and hit the water before grabbing a stack of towels from the shelf. Rose-

colored towels.

Pink.

“Pink? Really?”

She flashed him a grin. “Be glad I don’t make you pose for a photo.”

She turned and leaned against the sink. The white pedestal was a Victorian antique she’d scored for a

song and refinished, the china cool and slick beneath her fingertips. How far would he let her push him?

He closed the door. Wow. She’d been close to Cal before—he’d ridden behind her on the way to her

place—but this was different. This time, they both knew they were going to get naked and act out their

secret fantasies. She’d known Cal for years, but the heat blasting through her was as unfamiliar as it was

luscious.

“Strip,” she said.

“Now I’m definitely hearing an order.” His voice sounded rough and husky.

“Make it good,” she suggested.

He didn’t hold back any, either. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

His eyes met hers, waiting for her to take charge.

No problem. She traced a finger down his thigh, feeling the hard muscle there. “Take it all off.”

“You want to help?”

She thought about his question for a moment.

When she hesitated—
too many choices
—he made the decision for her. His fingers grasped the hem of

his T-shirt and slowly pulled the cotton up, revealing the chiseled lines of his abdomen.

“Closer,” she ordered throatily. She could look
and
touch. Not a problem.

He stepped toward her, until his feet brushed hers, and then sucked in a breath when she ran her fingers