Riley
O kay. How does a girl seduce her older brother’s best friend? Especially when the friend in question refuses to even touch her most days, and sleeps out on the deck every night? When he won’t go for a swim, but he looks at her with those glacial eyes burning up with need?
I’m stumped. And it’s not like I have a whole lot of experience in this area. In fact, my only frame of reference is the smutty fan fiction I got hooked on a few summers ago, and lord knows that stuff was definitely not accurate.
I don’t think sex pollen or kissing lessons or a bet will help me here. I mean, we already have only-one-bed, but Cade won’t freaking sleep in it. He’d rather stretch out on the deck every night, fending off the bugs.
Tricky. Very tricky.
“You’re plotting something.” Cade frowns at me from where he’s kneeling in front of the log burner, stoking the fire. “Should I be concerned?” The flames cast a golden glow over his rugged face, and his stubble is thicker than ever. Nearly a full beard.
I give him a sunny smile from my spot on the lumpy sofa, my arms wrapped around my knees. “You survived war zones, Cade. Why would you be scared of little old me?”
“Not scared.” He’s muttering. Irritated and gruff.
God, I just want to lick him all over, scars and all.
It’s night time, the sun long gone, and I’ve found this is the best way to keep Cade in the cabin: asking him to maintain a fire. I could definitely do it myself, but that’s beside the point, isn’t it?
This way, I get to watch his muscles flex as he moves, picking up logs and prodding the stack with the poker. I get to admire his scarred knuckles and calloused palms. What would they feel like on my skin?
It’s way too hot and muggy tonight for a fire, too, but Cade doesn’t call me out on that fact. Maybe he wants this excuse too; maybe he gets the same ache in his stomach when we’re apart.
Or maybe I’m making a fool of myself.
Hey. What do I have to lose?
Everything. The realization hits me like a slap in the face. If I chase Cade away, if I lose this man…
I grip the edge of the sofa, my breathing ragged. I may not survive it.
“! Hey, hey.” Big, warm hands cup my cheeks, and Cade’s voice is distant, but he’s frowning at me. Gruff with concern. His face is so close. “Angel. You okay?”
Am I okay?
No, I’m not okay. Some days I barely think about my brother at all, and other days the grief drags me under like a sudden, vicious riptide. I’m not sure which is worse.
“S-sorry.” My teeth are chattering. God, this is humiliating. I can’t breathe.
“Don’t be sorry.” Cade’s voice is louder now, cutting through the noisy din of my thoughts. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
The sofa groans as he sits at my side, gathering me onto his lap, and I cling to him like my life depends on it. What am I thinking, trying to seduce this man? I can’t risk what we have already. It’s too precious to me. It’s everything.
“Tell me.” Cade sounds tortured, rocking me from side to side. “Tell me what upset you, . Did I do something? Did I… is this about earlier?”
Earlier, when he hugged me so close, I felt the proof of his arousal against my hip. Earlier, when he said he didn’t trust himself with me. When he stared at me like a starving man, the outline of my damp body imprinted on his front.
“No.” I press the words against his neck, my lips seeking out his warm, warped skin. “No, I—I liked that.”
Cade groans, but he makes no other move. I guess a sniffling girl on the verge of a panic attack isn’t his kink. Weird.
“Then what is it?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. Can I really tell him this? It seems so risky—but oh god, my mouth isn’t waiting for permission. I’m spilling it all. “I was just thinking that I couldn’t bear to lose you, too.”
Cade’s low, wounded noise settles something inside me. Because he feels this too. This man understands me, better than anyone else ever has in my life.
And maybe he’s not flat out, hands down, head-over-heels in love the way I am, but I’ll take it. Whatever he can give me, I’ll take it.
“You won’t lose me.” His quiet words are an oath, the only other sound the pop and crackle of the fire. The air smells like wood smoke and Cade’s soap. The sweet tang of sawdust. “I swear it, . That will never happen.”
Can he promise me that? Luis couldn’t.
I sniffle, burrowing into his throat.
And it’s the second time we’ve touched in a day, the second time we’ve crossed this line, but this time, Cade doesn’t break things off. He sits there, cradling me on his strong thighs until my breathing evens out, until my grip on his neck goes slack, and the flames bank low in the log burner.
“Sleep in the bed with me,” I mumble at last, and I’m not trying to seduce him now. I just can’t bear the thought of hours away from him.
There’s a long pause. That silence… it sounds like hope.
“Not tonight,” Cade says at last, and even though it’s not the answer I wanted, I smile against his chest, raw but settled.
Yeah. Cade squeezes me tighter, and I sigh.
It’s definitely hope.
* * *
“, did I leave my—oh, shit.”
Standing at the kitchenette counter, I glance over my shoulder. It’s early, the blue-tinged light of dawn spilling through the open window above the sink, and I’ve got two half-made coffees in front of me. My spoon clinks against the mug, wisps of steam curling into the air, and the cabin still smells like last night’s fire.
Cade stares like I’m an alien. Like he just caught me unzipping my skin suit.
“What?” I peer down the length of my body. “Oh, sorry.”
Yeah, I wasn’t thinking straight this morning. I woke up groggy and tired, my head stuffed with cotton wool, and sometime in the night I’d kicked off my pajamas into the tangle of bed sheets. I was in one of those moods, one where my heart is numb and even the smallest task is a Herculean effort, so I didn’t bother hunting through the bed for my pajamas.
I swiped one of Cade’s t-shirts off the spindly laundry rack instead. Threw the soft, navy fabric over my head, and checked the hem covered my ass before going in search of coffee.
“That’s… you…”
Clearly, I’m not the only one struggling this morning. Cade scrubs a hand down his face, and he’s still staring at where his t-shirt grazes my mid-thigh.
“I’ll wash it again for you, don’t worry.”
Cade huffs and shakes his head, but still says nothing.
And jeez… it’s like I can feel his eyes on me. Tracing up my thighs like the softest fingertip; skating over the shirt to feel my hips, my waist, my ribs.
His shirt is loose on me, barely brushing against my skin in some places, and the points of my nipples jut against the cotton.
“Coffee?” I rasp, because what the hell else am I gonna say? Sure, I want to coax Cade into kissing me someday, but I’ll need all my brain cells to do it. Most of mine are still asleep right now. And this is our tradition every morning, sipping coffees together with our feet dangling off the deck, so I take refuge in it. “We’re low on milk.”
Cade opens his mouth, then closes it again. Shakes his head like he’s trying to dislodge an extra pesky thought.
“That’s my t-shirt,” he says at last, like he can’t function without saying the words. “You’re wearing my shirt.”
Heat crawls up my neck and I turn back to the counter, hiding from his intense gaze. Is it really such a freaking huge deal?
“Sorry,” I mutter again, finishing up the coffees. “I’ll change in a second.”
“No.” The low command drifts through the quiet cabin, and my stomach swoops. “No, . Don’t.”
His footsteps are soft, but the creaking floor gives him away. When Cade comes to a stop directly behind me, his breath stirring my rumpled hair, I can’t breathe. I squeeze the spoon until my knuckles turn white.
“I like seeing you in my clothes.”
I bite my lip. Hard. Is this really happening? Is that rough edge to Cade’s voice because he wants me, or am I imagining the tension crackling in the air?
“They’re comfy,” I say weakly.
“Are they?” A hand rests lightly on my hip, then coasts slowly, oh so slowly, up to the dip of my waist. Even though he’s barely touching me, the heat of Cade’s hand scorches me through the fabric, and shivers race over my skin. “Does this feel good, angel?”
“S-so good.”
There’s a grunt of approval. The floor creaks, and Cade moves closer, until the hard warmth of his chest presses against my back. And his hand is still on me, still tracking slowly higher, and as it goes, the hem lifts and bares more and more of my thigh.
My bare toes scrunch against the floor. My breath comes in soft pants.
When Cade’s thumb grazes the underside of my breast, white static fills my brain. A desperate whimper escapes me, the heavy ache between my legs nearly unbearable already—but Cade drops his hand and steps back.
“Sorry,” he says gruffly. I blink at the kitchen window, stunned. “Got carried away for a second.”
He reaches around me, swiping his coffee, and then he’s gone, his boots thumping heavy over the cabin floor. The door creaks as he swings it open, a cool breeze rushing in, and then it bangs shut. I’m alone again. Dazed and flustered.
Did that just happen? Am I going insane?
And how can I make it happen again?