Wicked Nights (16 page)

“Let’s—” She didn’t finish her sentence or even her thought. The cloth dipped lower, moving down

past her stomach to her core.

“Let’s let me take care of you, okay?” His ragged breathing promised he was right there with her, and

letting Cal have his way didn’t seem like a bad idea at all.

“Right now,” she demanded.

And he did.

He touched her intimately with the cloth, nothing but four-hundred-count Egyptian cotton between his

fingers and her flesh. The rough friction of the material was even better than bare skin, letting her prolong

the sweet, steady ache. She was close, her body tightening, bearing down on him.

“Tease,” she muttered.

“I’m not teasing.”

When, long minutes later, he reached to turn off the water, she scrambled to get out first because there

was something too devastatingly sensual about Cal looking after her. The truth was he overwhelmed her.

Fantastically, wonderfully so, but she was losing control of her body in a way she never did. She wrapped a

rose-colored—
pink
—towel around her and padded into the bedroom, leaving him to follow her.

* * *

PIPER WAS STILL determined to be in charge, to be the one giving the orders. Sexy, yes. Cal loved the

way she knew what she liked and how her sensuality didn’t embarrass her. Piper was as all out in bed as

she was diving. Or living. Piper didn’t hold back. But he wanted something more from her.

He wanted her to trust him.

He followed her into the bedroom, turning different options over in his head.

“Do you trust me?” This night was for her, but for some things, he wanted permission.

She had to think about her answer, which wasn’t the response he’d been hoping for. “Piper—”

He knew she didn’t want a discussion or a conversation. She wanted hot, meaningless sex. With him,

though, which apparently meant what they did in her bed wasn’t going to be meaningless. Not for him.

Her knees hit the edge of the mattress. “Yes.”

“Yes, you trust me?”

“You want a notarized document?” she growled back. “Because I can absolutely get up and get one for

you, right now.”

He couldn’t stop the smile from flashing across his face. “Remember, you offered.”

She’d been warned.

* * *

CAL TURNED AWAY from the bed and if he wasn’t looking for a condom, she’d kill him.

“Top drawer,” she said. “On the left-hand side. There are condoms.”

He made a rough sound, half protest, half amused. So, yeah, she liked being in charge. She knew what

she liked, too. He’d have to deal with it.

He came back, though, setting a foil packet by the side of the bed. That wasn’t all he had. He also had a

handful of her sarongs. The thin strips of mesh fabric tied over her hips and hinted at the bikini bottom

beneath. She had no idea what kind of fashion statement he intended to make.

“Modest much?”

He gave her a look she couldn’t quite interpret.

“I’m going to tie you up.”

A statement of intent, her brain noted through the lightning bolt of heat torching her body. Not a

question at all.

“Any questions?” he asked roughly. “Objections?”

She should object. She really, really should but...he’d made her think about it. About how it would feel

to be at Cal’s sensual mercy, her body his to touch. Instead of protesting, she shook her head.

“Good.”

He made quick work of tying her up, carefully fastening her wrists to the headboard. Just her wrists,

and not so tight she couldn’t get free if she needed to, but tight enough to remind her she wasn’t going

anywhere easily.

“Now you’re all mine.” The look in his eyes got her going. She’d wanted to take him, to take advantage

of being the one in charge, but he’d turned the tables on her...and she loved it. Arousal shot through her.

She’d never been the kind of woman who needed or wanted a man to take charge, but this was...wicked

sexy.

He ran a finger over her stomach and the muscles there fluttered nervously, as though she had a

thousand highly aroused and nervous butterflies flapping around in there. Being tied up, even as a game,

made her feel vulnerable. Which was something she didn’t do. Of course, Cal didn’t like opening up, either,

which made them a good match on some levels. Now, however, she couldn’t
do
anything but wait. And

anticipate, her brain on overload suggesting possible fantasies.

Too late, she thought of a question. “Do I get to tie
you
up on your night?”

One night was definitely
not
going to be enough.

“I should gag you,” he said tenderly, brushing his fingers over her mouth. “You look beautiful.”

Heat curled through her as he touched her intimately.

Perfect.

“Kiss me some more,” she demanded as his fingers did something positively wicked and she clenched

deep inside. His hand urged her leg up around his hip, another good idea she decided with a breathy moan.

Like always, he didn’t hesitate. He decided—and then he did. “Absolutely.”

Like her words were some kind of permission he’d been waiting for, he took charge, lifting her

effortlessly as he moved down the bed. She squeaked. To her eternal mortification, she made an inelegant,

embarrassed sound of surprise.

“Cal—”

“Shh. My turn.” She felt his rough whisper against her core. Her very bare, very exposed core. He

kissed her and then she completely lost it. He had her whimpering and groaning, and there might have been

begging involved, although she’d deny it if asked. His big hands on her hips kept her right where he wanted

her, his fingers dipping in to tease and part her. And his mouth...she lit up like a forest fire from the heat

and pleasure.

“Cal—” She squeaked his name out, and her reward was a very male sound of appreciation. He kissed

her some more, clearly in no rush, as deliberate and thorough about this as he was about everything. If

she’d known he was this good, she’d have jumped him sooner, she thought, dazed.

“Now it’s your turn,” he said against her, and the hot whisper of his words right there, where she was

tight and slick, sent her over the edge in a rush. She came shockingly fast, rocking against him.

There was a rustle as he untied her and conjured up the condom.
Yes.

“May I?” he asked, and there was no holding back the smile splitting her face.

“My pleasure,” she said, wrapping her legs around his waist. He’d won the first round, but... She

grinned and pushed, until he rolled over so she straddled him. Threading her fingers through his, she

pinned his hands over his head. “You cheated.”

“You’re complaining?” She gripped his hips with her knees and sank slowly down.

“Absolutely not.” He groaned out the words.

She loved his body, she decided. He was all hard, tempting muscles and ridges in all sorts of delicious

places. She couldn’t wait to explore him, so she sank down a little farther.

“Just making my point.” She leaned forward and nipped his ear.

The touch was his tipping point, because he bit out a curse and surged upward. “Piper—”

There. She wriggled and took the last inch of him. “
Now
it’s my turn.”

She began to move and, nope, he didn’t have any complaints. Even when it was her turn for a very,

very long time.

10

A MALE ARM pinned her to the bed. An arm that matched the leg tossed casually over her own leg.

Piper squinted and spotted her panties on the floor in the dim morning light. Getting dressed seemed like a

logical next step, so she worked her way out from beneath the arm and sat up. She preferred sleeping with

the curtains open because she liked seeing the ocean. Plus, it wasn’t as if she had neighbors. Other than the

very occasional fisherman or motorboat, there was no one to see in. Liberated, she stood up and padded

over to the window. Yep. Same ocean view she’d admired every morning for the past two years. The

difference lay in the bed behind her. Resting her forehead against the glass, she postponed turning around.

The rustle of sheets warned her time was up. “Piper?”

Cal’s raspy voice made her melt and sent heat shooting through her body. Apparently, one night hadn’t

been enough to get him out of her system, after all.

“Present and accounted for,” she said, when what she really wanted to say was “How come you’re still

here?” It would have been easier if he’d done the walk of shame to his truck and gone home. Maybe. Or

maybe he wasn’t a morning person and it was still too early for him to be thinking. She didn’t know.

They’d skipped all the dating preliminaries and gone straight for the good stuff.

“Are you coming back to bed?” Did he want her to? She was a morning person.

“I’m up.” She padded barefoot over to the door. Maybe other people managed their mornings-after

more smoothly, but talking just seemed awkward. Cal sat up, the sheet falling to his waist, and she revised

her opinion. Naked was a good look for Cal.

“Is there something I’m supposed to say here?” He ran a hand over his head.

“I’m making coffee.” It had to be the lack of caffeine that had her considering crawling back into bed

with him. “I’ve got work to do. Contracts to win. You can have the first shower.”

“Right.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Do
not
look,
she told herself as he swiped his

clothes off the floor.

She kept repeating those words to herself over the course of the next twenty minutes while she made

coffee and scared up a muffin. She was still trying to convince herself she’d succeeded when she parked

her butt in a chair down by the water and finally admitted she’d failed.

Have sex with Cal.

Get him out of her system.

Hah.

Her plan was an epic backfire. She’d had sex with him.
Once.
And, hallelujah, it was likely going to

happen a second time—she owed him a night, after all, and Cal always collected on their bets.

He’d taken charge of her, of her body. And she’d
liked
it.

Correction.

She’d loved it.

Out here, alone with her thoughts and the ocean, she could be honest with herself. She’d had no idea

that
not
fighting with Cal could be so much fun. Toe-curling, senses-devastating fun. Apparently, he had

hidden depths. She should have been plotting her dive program and figuring out how best to wow the

Fiesta team. Instead...she was wondering if her night with Cal also included the morning after. And making

a mental note to negotiate future bets more carefully.

Cal wasn’t just the Grim Reaper raining disapproval on her actions. He was
sweet. Thoughtful.
And he

had a sense of humor. She’d known some of those things before—after all, anyone who came up with a bet

where the loser wore a red, white and blue string bikini clearly had a fine sense of the ridiculous (and he’d

agreed to wear the suit if he’d lost, so he was also fair). He’d also carted her butt down the sunbaked dock

yesterday, like some kind of Sir Lancelot. At least, she thought that was the guy who’d tossed his grade-A

and probably ermine-lined cloak over a mud puddle so his queen could keep her feet dry. Or maybe that

was Sir Raleigh. Whoever the guy was, Cal had made her feel special last night.

Special.

Like there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

Funny how she’d felt something suspiciously similar when he’d jackknifed into the water at Rose Wall.

She wasn’t stupid and he’d never been a good liar. Something had gone wrong, and it hadn’t been with his

equipment.

Equally clear, he didn’t want to talk about it. Keeping silent might be just a guy thing. A fish or a piece

of seaweed had brushed his leg, and he’d startled. He was embarrassed. The big, tough navy SEAL had

overreacted and was covering.

But...she didn’t think so.

SEAL training wasn’t some kind of covert op. While she’d never trained herself to be a SEAL or a

rescue swimmer, she’d heard stories. Watched the videos on YouTube. Any man who could swim three

hundred and fifty feet underwater before surfacing for a breath of air? That man wouldn’t have been

worried by a leaky snorkel.

Nope. She suspected it was something else.

There had been plenty of island gossip about Cal’s last mission. Things had gone wrong, and his team

had lost a man, or so she’d heard. He’d come home, but maybe he’d brought some mental baggage with

him. Or he’d been injured and hadn’t wanted to tell anyone—again, just like Cal. She looked back toward

the house. She could ask him.

In fact, she’d tried.

He’d shot her down. Deflected her with a night of hot sex.

The decoy routine alone was almost reason enough to ask him again before she started jumping to

conclusions.

Or was tempted to read anything else into their night. Hot sex did not a relationship make, and she

couldn’t afford to forget, not with the Fiesta contract on the line.