Page 7 of Blue Collar Hotties

She’s my best friend’s little sister. Maybe Luis meant for me to look out for Riley, but he definitely didn’t want my scarred hands all over her; didn’t want me panting over her tight, perfect body. I’m a decade older than her, and I’m messed up. I’ve seen too much. Done too much.

Riley Sanchez is my miracle. I won’t soil her with my touch. No way.

I stack the freshly cut boards on the end of the workbench and drag over a fresh length of wood. The breeze smells like sawdust and pine.

“Iknowyou can swim, Cade. I watched you do a lap of the lake three days ago.”

“I never said I couldn’t swim.”

There’s a breathless silence, and when I glance up at Riley, I’m startled to find hurt in those wide eyes. My arm slows, sweat making my grip slippery on the saw, but she’s turning away. Pushing her dress over her hips with her back to me.

“Suit yourself.”

No. No, I don’t like this sudden coolness between us, thisdistance. Riley’s shoulder blades shift in her tanned back, and she steps out of the mound of green fabric, strolling to the edge of the deck.

“Riley.”

No response. Her yellow bikini bottoms hug the swell of her ass, those plump cheeks peeking out below the fabric. God, I want to grip her there. Squeeze her, knead her,parther. Lick the glistening length of her slit. My mouth is so fucking dry.

“Riley. Hey. We’re not done here.”

She purses her lips, throwing me a flat look over her shoulder. “Oh, please. We both know you don’t really need my help, Cade.”

“Yes, I do.”

She smooths her escaped strands of hair away from her face, turning back to the lake. The water is clear as glass, the mossy rocks visible deep below the surface.

“Be careful—”

Riley enters the water in a neat little dive, icy droplets hitting my bare arms and face. She streaks beneath the surface, agile and smooth, so like the mermaid I mistook her for that first afternoon.

My chest aches as I watch her swim away. More than anything, I want to toss this saw aside, tug my clothes off, and dive after her. Cut through the lake water with powerful strokes, catch up to her and…

And…

Yeah. The thoughts swirling through my head, the dark hunger gnawing at my insides—that’s why I stay dressed and firmly on land.

Riley doesn’t know what she’s asking for when she invites me for a swim with her every day. If she did? She’d never ask me again.

* * *

I’ve finished fixing the deck by the time she finally comes back, dripping a trail of cool droplets over the wooden boards. The replacement boards are lighter, smoother, and they wobble less under her steps.

“See?” Riley’s voice is light, but she won’t meet my eye. “Knew you didn’t need me.” She scoops up her dress, thenpauses at the towel I set out for her.

The workbench creaks as I carry it around the side of the cabin. No point stowing it properly; we’re bound to need it again tomorrow.

When I come back around the building, Riley’s bundled up in the towel, tucked up to her throat. She stares out at the lake, and she looks so haunted for a second that I can’t breathe.

“Riley.”

Her chin wobbles, but she doesn’t turn.

“Riley. Come here.”

It’s rare for us to touch. Despite living together for three weeks now, despite passing each other tools and cooking together and washing up each night, I can count on one hand the amount of times our bodies have come into contact.

This is why. As soon as Riley walks into my open arms, as soon as her cold nose presses against my throat, hunger rips through me, raw and devastating. I choke back a groan, wrapping her tight in my arms, and cradle my best friend’s little sister against my chest.

---