I’m playing with fire, pushing this thing with Riley too far. But now that I had her, however small, however fleeting, I wasn’t missing one second.

I do nothing to hide my smile as she tugs her shirt off, exposing the flimsy red strings and triangle cups. I’d seen her wear this bikini once. One torturous time. It was right before I left for North Carolina. I spent the summers with my dad, so I usually didn’t have the privilege of seeing Riley in a bathing suit. But the day before I left, she and Emma were at the community pool, reclining on chaise lounges, talking and laughing. She never took off her damn cover-up—believe me, I waited all day. I’m guessing because she was too self-conscious. But here at the lake it’s just us. Me and her. And no extra layers are needed to shield self-doubt and insecurities, because there aren’t any between us. There never were.

“You’re staring.” Her voice is quiet as she drags a sandaled foot in the dirt.

“Can’t help it.”

Her eyes meet mine, searching, and I downplay the intensity that has blossomed around us. “You want to know what guys like?” I shrug but continue to hold her stare. “They like bikinis.”

She’s the first to look away. “Are we going in?”

I walk farther down the dock, closer to the lake. “Ladies first.”

She snorts and walks nearer to me as we approach the edge. She bends at the waist, extending her hand as though to feel the temperature of the water, but at the last second she reaches up, grabs my arm and pulls me forward. I gasp as the shock of cold water pierces my skin.

I break the surface, sucking in a huge breath. She finds my eyes, her own warm with laughter. “You have ten seconds,” I say, voice calm but menacing.

The laughter dies on her lips, and she narrows her eyes. “Don’t be a baby.”

“Ten.” My voice booms as I paddle toward the dock. “Nine. Eight. Seven.” My body cuts through the water until I’ve reached the ladder. My hand circles the top rung. She’s standing stock-still, watching me as she contemplates her next move. “Six,” I call, as I lift myself from the lake.

“Holy shit! You’re serious.” She begins to backtrack down the narrow, wooden deck. As I get closer, she spins around and breaks into a run, but I’m too fast for her. Much too fast.

My arms circle her from behind, holding her tight against me as I lift her up.

“Stop!” She squeals. “You’re all cold and wet.” She thrashes in my arms as I stalk back toward the edge. “Jesse, stop. Stop.” She’s breathless, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s how she’d sound during sex. Strong, yet desperate. “Please. I’m sorry.”

With those last words her voice softens, and if I didn’t know her quite as well as I do, I might have fallen for the cute and innocent act. My body shakes as a low chuckle rumbles through me. “Nice try.”

“Jesse Samuel Collins.” Her voice rises. “Put me down this—”

Splash. Her body hits the water and she shrieks right before her head goes under.

I jump in a moment later, set to grab her and toss her again, but she’s already cutting through the water. Riley’s a great swimmer. But then again, so am I.

I reach her a minute later, and she splashes me in the face. “Asshole!”

“Hey.” I splash her back. “Who pushed who first?”

“I didn’t throw you. Jesus. I almost lost my top.”

My eyes immediately drift to her tits, where the fabric remains fully intact, not an inch of extra skin exposed. “Then I’m only sorry I didn’t throw you harder.”

Her eyes flash once, but then she plunges beneath the surface and is off again. We swim for another hour. Splashing. Racing. Doing the same tricks we performed as kids.

When I was younger—before I started spending summers working with my dad in his mechanic shop—Riley and I would spend our entire break together. I can’t even begin to count how many times we came down to this very lake on lazy summer afternoons. I remember one summer she made me play Ariel and Sebastian with her every single day—that was during her Little Mermaid phase.

Today, though, things are different. Like when she climbs out of the water, my eyes remain glued to her ass. Yep, that’s definitely new. And when she leans back and raises her face to the sun, my lips twitch with the urge to suck the water droplets from her chest.

“God, today was fun.” She angles her face toward me. “Why don’t we do this more often?”

I shrug. School. Work. Tod. “Life gets in the way, I guess.”

Her smile slips a bit, but she quickly rights it. “Let’s make a deal.” I wave my hands for her to continue speaking. “Once a month, no matter what, we come here and go in.”

A bark of laughter escapes my lips.

“Don’t laugh at me!” She nudges me with her elbow.

“I’m not,” I lie, but she raises her eyebrows in disbelief. “It’s September, Ry. It’s warm now, Indian Summer, but it’s gonna get cold real quick.”

“So?”

“No way.” I shake my head. “No way you’re gonna do it.”

She squares her shoulders to face me, fully accepting the challenge. Riley is by far the most competitive person I know. “Wanna bet?”

“That depends. What are the stakes?”

She taps her finger to her jaw. “Okay, we both have to go in, together, once a month until graduation. The first one to back out loses.”

“Okay.” I scratch the back of my neck. “And what does the winner get?”

She shrugs. “Whatever he or she wants. Loser agrees to one favor of winner’s choosing.” She extends her hand. “Deal?”

I take her hand in mine and shake. “Hope you’re ready to lose, Ryan.” I can’t help tagging on the silly nickname, because I know it will rile her up even more.

She pulls her hand back and narrows her eyes. “In your dreams, Jessica.”

She gathers her hair in one hand and pulls it into a high ponytail atop her head. “Wanna get ice cream before heading home?” She speaks around the hair tie between her teeth.

“Huh?” I mumble, eyes still on her tits, her hardened nipples straining against the fabric.

Okay, so maybe I was indulging a fantasy or two, but when she said “one favor of the winner’s choosing” my brain hit the ground running. I can’t quite help it if the favor of my choosing involves her spread naked in my bed.

“Ice cream?” she repeats, and my eyes snap to hers.

Hell no, I don’t want to get ice cream.

When we were younger, Riley and I played for a co-ed soccer team, the Stardust Strikers. She had no interest in sports (still doesn’t) but she joined the league because I signed up, and back then we did everything together.

She was terrible—and no, I’m not being sexist—she was that bad. During game time she’d watch the “pretty” butterflies or wave to me when I tried to pass her the ball. To be honest, I’m not sure she even knew that the object of game was to get the ball inside the net.

After our Saturday games, Coach Bempke took the team to Dip Delight, and we’d each get to order a soft-serve cone. On days we won (hardly ever) we were allowed to order rainbow sprinkles.

As we got older, Riley stopped playing sports—thank God—but she still made an effort to come to my basketball games, the home ones anyway. And Dip Delight was a tradition (read: punishment) we kept to this very day.

Somewhere along the way our innocent ice cream dates turned X-rated. Well, at least for me. I remember when I was thirteen, her blue cotton candy ice cream had melted and dribbled onto her fingers. With bated breath, I watched as she sucked each digit clean. I was horrified when my dick hardened, absolutely convinced that she knew every naughty thought that had flickered through my mind. But she simply smiled that huge Riley smile and chattered on.

From that day, I both looked forward to and dreaded our ice cream dates. I covertly (or at least as covertly as possible) watched as her tongue licked round and round the cone, darting side to side, catching each drop of sweet cream.

And in those moments, my very first Riley fantasy was born: her on her knees, looking up at me, wide-eyed, slowly licking my cock as she would the cone.

Over the years, that fantasy had progressed, had become much more detailed, much more explicit. Now, she was naked underneath my basketball jersey, legs spread wide with one hand buried between her legs. Those beautiful full lips were wrapped tightly around my cock as I whispered all the filthy things I wanted to do to her.

“Earth to Jesse!” She waves both hands in front of my face.

I clear my throat once, and say, “Nah. No ice cream today.”

Her bottom lip pouts, but she says. “All right. Whatever you want.”

If only it were that easy.