Wicked Nights

by Anne Marsh

  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 to
ward 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 over the exposed skin.

  “Perfect,” she said as he yanked the shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor.

  Then he paused. “Should I stop? Or call you mistress?”

  The thick ridge beneath the buttons of his jeans was promising, too, and also all hers for tonight.

  “Not unless you have a death wish.” Sometimes, a woman had to be honest.

  “Piper.” Her name was half groan, half curse. She thanked the powers above that she got to him the way he got to her. “I’m pretty sure you’re driving me crazy.”

  “I always do.” She traced the waistband of his jeans and, hello, someone was definitely happy to see her. Cal bumped against her hand. She reached for the first button and popped it free.

  “True.”

  “I’m just planning on doing it a little differently tonight.”

  “Piper.” There was her name again. She wiggled her fingers, just a little, more because he felt good and she couldn’t help but be aware of him beneath her palm. “We don’t have to do this. The bet was a joke, not a legally binding contract.”

  “Are you saying you don’t want to have sex with me?”

  He braced his arms on either side of her on the sink, somehow managing to make her feel both secure and looked after. Those were new sensations for her, because she always took care of herself. Cal, on the other hand, looked after everyone. He made sure his friends and family—hell, the whole island—were safe and had what they needed. Apparently, he’d decided to include her in that number. She didn’t want pity sex but something else entirely. And, she’d admit it, she hadn’t misplaced her competitive spirit like she intended on misplacing her clothes.

  If she was having sex with Cal, she was going to be the best he’d ever had.

  “That’s not what I’m saying at all,” he said, but his voice sounded husky. Sexy, and the tug she felt was something else unexpected. Since when had she found Cal attractive?

  Since always, the little voice in her head chimed in.

  “So, you do want me?” She moved her fingers and discovered she could stroke the very tip of him. She slid her fingertips in a small circle, and he sucked in a breath. The tiny inhalation was a definite yes, right there.

  “We don’t like each other.” He sounded a little desperate, so she popped a second button, giving herself more room to work with. More Cal.

  “Nope. We drive each other crazy.” He was dead right.

  It also wasn’t fair how gorgeous he was. To compensate, she unbuttoned his third button.

  “But we did have a bet,” she said. “And I’ve never known you to renege on a bet.”

  “I’m a man of my word.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and she’d never been so grateful for a bet before. This wasn’t about winning or losing but about a chance to explore Cal. She had him for one wicked night—and then, because fair was fair and they’d both won or they’d both lost, depending on how you looked at it—she’d be his.

  She could hardly wait.

  “Off,” she ordered and he gave her what she wanted.

  He slid a finger beneath the last button on his jeans—there was nothing sexier than a man in button-up jeans, where she could slide the tips of her fingers between the gaps, stroke him where he was hot and hard—until it gave. Cal was commando. And lip-lickingly gorgeous.

  His dark eyes watched her, but she discovered, his control was an illusion. When she touched him, he made a rough sound of pleasure, which only encouraged her to do it again. And again. She loved the way the groan slipped out. She wrapped a palm around him, literally holding Cal in the palm of her hand. He might not like her, but he definitely wanted her, and she could work with desire. He wasn’t moving fast enough, though, so she tapped his hip, the little smack loud in the room. “Pick up the pace, Brennan.”

  He grinned at her as he shoved his jeans down his legs, and his crooked half smile went all the way to his eyes. This close to him, she could make out the faintest shadow of stubble on his jaw. Huh. Maybe Cal had a bad boy in him, after all. Or she’d been too busy pushing his buttons to take a really good look. Or undoing his buttons.

  “I’m all yours. Do your best,” he said.

  His rough gasps and muttered curses were a power rush but also something more. She wasn’t thinking about the something more tonight, so she pushed those thoughts away. Instead, she scraped the nails of her free hand lightly over his stomach, enjoying the way the muscles there—and Cal had more than his fair share of muscles—jumped. He liked this, too. A lot.

  With her other hand, she stroked the length of him as she cupped him. He groaned, something incoherent, half prayer and half her name. Lucky him—she’d barely gotten started. She leaned forward.

  * * *

  PIPER WAS A take-charge woman. Cal had discovered that indisputable fact when he was ten and nothing had changed in the twenty years since. What had changed was how much he liked it. Liked her.

  Her mouth surrounded him, hot wet perfection that made parts of him howl with pleasure. The strangest thing, though, was that this was Piper. While he was no angel, he usually insisted on having so
me kind of relationship with a woman before they went to bed together. He hadn’t been holding out for a ring and happily ever after, but he hadn’t been into the casual hookup and bar scene, either. Nor did he think Piper was. Island gossip being what it was, he’d have heard if she’d made a practice of casual hookups.

  Piper’s bathroom was getting dark, and he wished he’d thought to flip on a light when he’d made the return trip from her front door. He wanted to see her face as she made love to him. Had sex with him. Or maybe both, if he was lucky. He didn’t know what this was, but the way she made him feel was out-of-this-world good and like nothing he’d felt before.

  Her mouth covered him, sinking down. His hips rose up to meet her, and he was putty in her hands. He could imagine the wicked gleam in her eyes if she knew. Which she had to, because he was making all sorts of noises. He skimmed his hands over her shoulders, her throat, tangling his fingers in her curls. At some point, she’d lost her tie and her hair was spread all over him. Another thing he liked too much.

  “Come up here so I can kiss you.” The growly demand was back in his voice.

  “You lost a bet, Cal.” Her fingers did something positively wicked to him at the same time. “Tonight’s mine and I’m in charge.”

  She lifted her mouth off him just enough to get the words out. Each word was a hot whisper over his skin. Nope. He wouldn’t be lasting long tonight, and his imminent loss of control was only partly due (very, very partly due) to the fact he hadn’t had sex in months.

  Losing, however, didn’t seem like such a bad thing when she put it that way.

  Just to prove his point, she licked her way up the length of him.

  “Please?” The word sounded needier than he liked, but it worked.

  Piper paused. Her fingers squeezed him deliciously, briefly, and then she slid up his body. Her parts fit against his as she leaned in to kiss him.

  His own hands got busy, stripping off her shirt and cupping her breasts, skimming the curves until he found the clasp in front. One quick flick, and she was shrugging out of the bra he’d admired so much. Her lingerie was still pretty, he decided—it was just that she was so much prettier. His eyes were getting used to the dark. Piper was all soft shadows and dark curves, but his imagination hadn’t done her justice or considered the possibility of her intriguing tan lines and the paler places where her bikini had covered her up. Barely.