Wicked Nights (Men of Discovery Island 2)

“We’re competing for the same business contract.” Darn it. Her voice got all soft and husky on the last words.

“You also had a bet,” Carla pointed out. “And he lost.”

“So did I.” As much as it galled her.

“Take advantage of him.” Carla shoved her toward the door. “When’s the last time you had fun?”

Carla’s definition of fun was dangerous, and Piper knew she was wavering. And was lost when Carla popped open the door and leaned out. “Are you as good as you look?”

Cal raised a brow. “I plead the Fifth.”

“Right.” Carla avoided Piper’s attempt to smack her. “Because I promise you that Piper here is.”

Cal raised a brow, all masculine amusement. Yep. He knew what Carla was up to.

“Okay.” Something inside her broke. Hot and wicked and...right. She strode toward her bike. “Get on.”

She gestured toward her Harley. The low-slung orange-and-chrome bike with its powerful engine was her baby. She didn’t let just anyone ride with her. She hoped he appreciated the invitation.

“Where are we going?” He didn’t move, his feet still planted on her sidewalk. Carla smirked and retreated inside the dive shop. Wise woman.

“My house. We’ll do it there. If my bike is in front of your house overnight, your mother is bound to drive by and notice.”

“It?” He grinned but looked slightly dazed. She wasn’t ceding home-court advantage to Cal. Plus, his mother would have them engaged before breakfast. Not that she was planning on sticking around until breakfast.

“You owe me one night. I plan to collect.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “We both lost.”

“Ladies first,” she reminded him and tossed him her spare helmet. He caught it by reflex.

Throwing a leg over the bike, she patted the seat behind her. “Get on.”

He came over and then paused Yep. Cal was thinking instead of jumping. “Just so I’m clear, what exactly are we doing here?”

“We’re having sex.” She flipped the key in the Harley’s ignition and reached for her own helmet.

Cal swung onto the seat behind her, caging her between his arms. “And we’re doing this because...?”

“To get it out of our systems. And because you lost a bet.” She gunned the motor and he groaned.

“Hold on.”

“I plan to.”

* * *

CAL WRAPPED HIS arms around Piper’s middle. Possibly, he held on a little tighter than necessary. While he considered his less-than-gentlemanly impulse, he tucked his head beside hers, resting his chin on her shoulder. The position gave him a prime view down the front of her shirt and of the black bra with strips of blue lace. The cups pushed her breasts up and he could imagine all sorts of things he’d like to do to her bra, starting with getting her out of it.

Piper’s family owned a ramshackle cabin on the water’s edge. Fewer than ten minutes after they’d left town, Piper veered off the main road and took them down a gravel driveway, which spit rocks when Piper took the final stretch too fast. She parked hard, killed the engine and slid off the bike.

“Home sweet home.”

He tried to remember how long it had been since he’d last stopped by the Clark place. The roof was missing a few more shingles, and the paint had long since peeled off. The yard, however, still sported the same mismatched collection of Adirondack chairs, piled with colorful cushions and surrounded by half-melted tea lights in jars. A bug zapper connected to the house by a frayed electrical cord did its thing overhead. Jesus. She was going to cause a fire.

Of course, it wouldn’t be the first fire the Clark place had witnessed. In addition to the tamer pursuits of bonfire building and marshmallow roasting (safely down on the beach with a few cubic tons of water on hand), Piper and her brothers had built signal fires in the barbecue after reading a book about Lewis and Clark. They’d also experimented with setting leaves on fire with a magnifying glass, fished birds’ nests out of the cottage’s stopped-up chimney and practiced their long jump over the fire Piper’s dad had built to burn the fallen leaves. Good times. It was a miracle any of them had survived.

“Come on.” She strode away from the bike, without waiting for him, and made for the door.

He didn’t like following like a puppy on a leash. He also didn’t know why he was here. He half expected her to turn around, yell “Gotcha,” and send him on his way. Since there was no figuring Piper out, he settled for watching her very fine ass lead the way. The worn denim cupped her in all the right places, and so, yeah, maybe he knew exactly why he was here. He and Piper were oil and water, but they had chemistry.