Page 100 of Made for Mayhem

I rounded the table, caught Daisy’s wrist—firm but careful—and pulled her behind the tent.

“Ty, what the hell are you doing?”

“Winning,” I said, jaw tight.

We disappeared behind the tent, the noise of the carnival muffled but still buzzing in my ears. I released her wrist only to plant my hands on either side of her, caging her against a nearby booth without touching her.

Her chest rose and fell fast. Mine matched it.

“You don’t get to do that,” she said, voice shaking a little. “You don’t get to throw money at me because you’re jealous.”

I leaned in, stopping just short of her mouth. “You don’t get to let half the town bid on you and expect me to be fine with it. This is what Stevie was talking about this morning, wasn’t it? You knew you were signing up for this?”

Her eyes flashed. “You’ve been the one keeping distance.”

“I was trying not to make this harder on you,” I shot back. “But watching someone else take you on a date? That was never going to happen.”

She swallowed. “Truth or dare, Ty.”

My pulse pounded under my skin, heart racing as I inched in closer. “Dare.”

I should have seen it coming, but nothing prepared me for the moment Daisy rose on her toes and dragged my face down to hers. Our lips collided, and every rational thought I’d been holding onto shattered.

My hands tightened in her hair, pulling her closer, her fingers curling into my shirt as if she was afraid I’d stop. Not a chance in hell.

Weeks of restraint burned away in seconds. There was only her, soft and wild and finally mine to touch.

She kissed as if she’d been wanting this just as bad. Her nails grazed the back of my neck, and my breath caught. The way she sighed my name, half warning, half surrender, ruined me.

“Daisy…” I murmured against her mouth, and she swallowed it, pulling me back in.

It wasn’t careful anymore. It wasn’t patient. It was weeks of holding back turned to wildfire—her back against the booth, my body pressed to hers, her hips rolling against my palm when I rested it there.

A shrill buzzer blared beside us, and both of us jumped, heads whipping toward the sound.

A ring toss game a few feet away erupted in cheers, the triumphant ding of a winning bell echoing right next to the tent. The laughter rolled like a wave, snapping the spell we’d been drowning in.

I froze, still breathing hard, forehead resting against hers. Her lips were swollen, her eyes wide, like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss me again or kill me for starting this when, once again, I couldn’t finish it.

“Ty,” she whispered, voice unsteady. “Don’t back out on me again.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” I said, stepping back just enough to see her face. “I’m yours.”

A new sound rose over the crowd—Mason’s voice, smug and far too loud.

“Auction’s still closed,” he yelled, “but I’m taking bets on how long you two make out back there.”

Daisy groaned, pressing both hands to her face. “Please tell me that wasn’t Mason.”

“Can’t do that.”

She peeked through her fingers, eyes sparkling with mortified laughter. “You just spent ten grand to play Skee-Ball with me, and I think this might be more embarrassing.”

“Maybe,” I said, still catching my breath. “But that sounds like money well spent.”

She looked up at me, something soft flickering across her face. “You’re insane.”

For a second, it felt like we might start again right there. Her fingers brushed mine, that same damn spark shooting straight through me.