Since he had only tonight, however, he’d make the most of every second. He pulled back and then sank into her again, deeper this time. Did it again. Piper’s body pulled at him, trying to hold on to him, as though that part of her was in full agreement with his over-and-over-for-half-of-forever sentiment. He could feel the sharp pulses as she got nearer, and he reached a hand between them, happy to give her what she wanted.
He braced his other hand against the pillow beside her head, loving the way her hair spilled over his fingers, her face close enough to touch. She smelled like green apples and soap, Piper and woman, a sweet, sexy scent with an edge that drove him crazy. Her skin was soft everywhere he touched, but beneath the softness was muscled strength. She’d worked herself back from her injury, and her body reflected the way she drove herself through life. She didn’t hold back, going all out for her goal.
She moved against him as he drove in and out of her, his hips meeting hers in a primitive closeness. Faster. Harder. Her body gripped his, squeezing him firmly, as his fingers plucked her tight, needy clit with each thrust.
“Cal.” His name was a raw moan, all feminine demand on her lips.
“I’m here,” he promised and gave her what they both wanted, slamming his hips against hers, driving himself deeper, quicker. He couldn’t hold on much longer, but he needed her to come for him. With him. He cupped her face, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was raw and urgent, watching her face as she climaxed because he loved seeing her come undone. As soon as she went over the edge, he let go himself, pumping himself hard and fast into her as she held him tight.
14
SHE’D TOLD HERSELF that winning wasn’t everything (okay, so Piper might have been kidding herself just a little there). Without the Fiesta contract, she had no hope of securing the bank financing, and Del would sell his half of the dive business. At best, she’d have a new partner who might let her continue to run things the way she had. At worst, she’d have a fight on her hands. It was hard to concentrate, though, when she would have rather been replaying yesterday’s memories of Cal. He’d kept her up most of the night, and it had been worth it.
When her cell phone rang, her heart leaped. Fiesta had finally come a-calling.
“Victory is ringing.” Carla nudged the phone toward her. “Answer it.”
Right.
She’d have her answer in four, three, two... She hesitated. It would be over. She and Cal would settle their bet, play out their remaining nights and then go back to...whatever it was they were before. Friendly competitors. Neighbors.
“If Fiesta hangs up, I’ll kill you,” Carla said conversationally.
Piper picked up the phone and tapped the talk button.
“Piper Clark speaking.” Her voice sounded sure and confident, and Fate had to be on her side, because none of the nauseating churn in her stomach came through in her voice.
Sal Britten answered, darn it. Maybe Fate wasn’t in such a good mood, after all.
“This is a difficult call to make,” Sal said and his self-satisfied voice made her question her decision not to let him drown. Okay. Not really, but letting him flounder for just a few more seconds might have improved his personality.
And then she processed his words and mouthed a really foul obscenity. Any conversation beginning with those four words didn’t come with a happy ending.
Sal, however, was perfectly happy. He kept right on talking, not pausing for breath. “While we at Fiesta Cruise Lines were extremely impressed with your proposal, Piper, we’ve decided to go in another direction.”
Carla looked at her expectantly.
“I see, Sal.” She hadn’t missed his deliberate use of her first name. He was a patronizing asshole. And then she processed his words. “Dream Big and Dive has not been awarded the contract.”
Carla thumped her head down on the counter. Piper pretty much felt the same way, but it was like a diving competition where you’d been matching the leader on the scoreboard point for point and then, when the final scores flashed up on the board, you realized that some itty-bitty percentage of a point had gone to the other diver, who would get to stand on the podium instead of you. It sucked, but you put your game face on and congratulated the winner. Took a few photos on the sidelines, waved and beat the fastest, most graceful retreat possible to the locker room, because once you were in the shower, you had plausible deniability for the tears.
“We’re awarding the contract to Deep Dive,” Sal continued, oblivious to the way her world was imploding around her.
Of course. Cal would be a gracious winner. He always was. “May I ask why?” she gritted out.