Wicked Nights by Anne Marsh Page B

the bet,” he said firmly. He knew what happened when he gave Piper so much as an inch.
    “You agreed,” she countered, every bit as stubborn as he remembered. The years hadn’t softened her up
    any. Or taught her to be reasonable.
    He braced as the ride spun higher and the swings arced out into the air. Squashing Piper hadn’t been
    part of his plan. “Cut me some slack.”
    “Nope,” she said. “No way. You were my childhood nemesis. You never went easy on me once.”
    Her body curved into the turn, and she threw her arms up again with another whoop, taking at least a
    year off his life as her butt lifted off the seat. He anchored her with an arm around her waist, feeling the
    warmth of her beneath the thin cotton top. She looked sweet and sexy, both of which were misleading. He
    had no idea what game Piper was playing with him, but she’d never shown the slightest awareness of him
    as a man. Or sweetness. Stubborn, fierce, competitive—Piper was all of those. Sweet, however, was not
    part of her vocabulary.
    He didn’t even like sweet.
    He tucked her bag of candy into his pocket before it flew away. See? Nothing but trouble.
    “We’ll renegotiate,” he stated firmly.
    “Cheater,” she said, a small smile curling her lips, and the delight in her voice matched the grin on her
    face. “You’re a cheater, Cal Brennan.”
    He had no idea what she was talking about. Up, down, sideways. He never knew where he stood with
    Piper, other than on her shit list. He seemed to have a permanent place there. But that was Piper. She was
    confusing, annoying and definitely...sexy? It had to be a residual from seeing her bare breasts the other day.
    Her spectacular, beautiful, completely naked breasts.
    He could feel an answering grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Piper,” he crooned. “You’re not
    making any sense.”
    And...his words were the match to her tinder.
    “Shut up,” she snapped. “And hold on.”
    She muttered something else he couldn’t quite catch—but she’d always had a potty mouth, so he could
    make an educated guess—and then hooked a finger in the front of his T-shirt, dragging him toward her. He
    could have stopped her. He was bigger, and he outweighed her by at least eighty pounds. And yet he leaned
    obediently toward her. Another first for him.
    The ride lurched into its final, lightning-quick round, the music building to a deafening roar. His
    stomach lurched right along, and Piper laughed, her face glowing. She’d always loved riding this
    monstrosity. He was close enough now to see the paler gold ring in her brown gaze and the freckle by the
    corner of one eye.
    Her hands bunched in his shirt, knuckles brushing his skin, the metal of the dog tags he wore to
    remember. He had no idea what she was up to. Piper was one surprise after another. She’d never been
    prone to violence, though, so he figured he’d stay safely in the swing.
    She slid over. Up. Working the swing and gravity and God knew what else until her butt was planted
    firmly in his lap. Surprise.
    “Piper—” Her name came out sterner than he’d intended. A warning, because not everything had to be a
    game between them.
    “Shh,” she whispered, her eyes twinkling. “I’m working on a safety violation here.”
    She pressed her mouth against his, and his arms snapped around her, anchoring her. Because they were
    turning, whirling, and he didn’t want her flying out of the swing. Nope. He didn’t want her hurt, even if he
    wasn’t sure what else he did want.
    Her mouth was a wicked surprise, her lips soft and giving as they brushed his. Slightly sticky, too, from
    the taffy, but he could work with that. He’d never thought of Piper as sweet before tonight—in fact, he tried
    hard to not think about her because he’d suspected danger years ago—but the sugar glossing her lips
    tempted him to have just a taste of her.
    “Wow, Cal.” She didn’t sound pissed off, which was a pleasant change from her