Page 26 of Beach Reads: Three Summer Scorchers

O ne time, back at the coffee shop, Miriam and I spent twenty whole minutes with our elbows propped on the counter, watching a construction crew work across the street.

It was a lull with no new orders, and those guys were better than TV.

When the clouds parted and the summer sun blazed hot, they all took their shirts off, muscles slick with sweat.

“Damn,” Miriam said, whistling under her breath, but it wasn’t the bare chests we were swooning over.

This was some kind of elite construction crew, not the stoned, jeering weirdos you sometimes get.

They were serious, quick, moving together in perfect sync to build scaffolding at record speed.

“Is there anything sexier than a truly competent man?”

I hummed along in agreement back then, but I had no idea. No idea.

Because River Dawes is the ultimate competent man. He fights, he tracks, he survives in the jungle. He commandeers a boat like it’s nothing, and back on that beach he ate my pussy like a dream.

Compared to River, poor Tango is a trembling kid. He keeps shooting me pleading looks, like I could save him, when he’s the trained agent or mercenary or whatever. He’s the one piloting our boat, River looming over his shoulder and barking commands.

When we first burst onto the bridge, covered in sweat and sea spray, Tango yelped and nearly fell out of his chair. He fumbled for his knife, but River moved faster than a blink, and then Tango was sprawled over the boat controls, chalky white behind his freckles, palms up in surrender.

“Do you want to die on paper, or for real?” River asked him.

“P-paper,” Tango stuttered. “Definitely paper.”

River clapped him on the shoulder— hard . I think part of him was secretly disappointed by that answer. “Smart man.”

So now we’re headed for the nearest city port, an unlikely trio. Tango reported our deaths to the agency already, and once we reach land, he’s gonna disappear too. Start over. Or else face River’s wrath, and no one with a single working brain cell would choose that.

“I might learn carpentry,” Tango says now, squinting out at the water. “Or another trade. Find a nice girl and settle down.” His eyes slide to me, then dart straight ahead when River snarls. Secretly, I preen.

I love when River gets jealous over me.

The sunset paints the ocean pink and gold. The mood relaxes the longer our captive’s eyes stay off me—and Tango’s calmed down a lot since he survived the last few hours. He won’t stop chatting, pushing his luck. He’s happier than I ever saw him around Echo.

Feeling bold again, he says, “I never really liked the whole agent thing, but once you’re in, you’re in, you know? It’s not like you can hand in your notice.”

“Yes,” River says. “I know.”

Tango flushes and refocuses on the boat controls. I choke back a laugh where I’m lounging in the first mate’s seat, bare toes wriggling in the warm air. My boots went overboard with their tracker hours ago.

It’s not bad at all, this pirate’s life.

I’ve explored the whole boat from top to bottom; raided a kitchen area for bottled water and snacks.

I even found a funny nautical hat, and it makes me look cuter than a sunburned button.

Now and then, we’ll see movement in the distance—a pod of dolphins racing along the waves, or a humpback whale breaching. Pretty damn cool.

River keeps shooting me worried glances, but I’m fine. Totally fine. Sure, I had a mini freak out earlier, my legs turning to jelly at the sight of Echo’s floppy, lifeless limbs, but I feel a million times better since chowing down on a pack of chocolate cookies.

I’m fine .

So my crush is a lethal killing machine. So he didn’t even blink as he offered to torture Echo for me.

He also winced as he peeled the tape off my wrists, like he felt every tiny prickle and sting. River hates seeing me in even the slightest discomfort. That’s a heady sort of power.

And maybe there’s more than one way to be lethal, you know? Maybe having the devotion of a dangerous man does the job too.

Sure wish we didn’t have this third wheel, though. I know I asked that Tango be kept alive, but with each passing hour that River spends not touching me, I regret that decision more and more. Especially since Tango turned out to be such a chatty Cathy.

But I’ve started to wonder… what if River doesn’t want to touch me again? What if he’s glad we have this buffer? When I tried to ask about our future back on that beach, River dodged the question like a pro.

So maybe Tango’s here to save River the trouble of turning me down, you know? To save him that awkwardness. Maybe this was a tropical island fling, and that’s all.

I slump in my chair, frowning. Because how would we even fit together? I’m a barista, and I’m not even great at it. I make a mean cappuccino, but my latte art sucks. I’m average in every way.

Meanwhile River is like a comic book hero brought to life. Oh god, is he desperate to get rid of me? To lose the dead weight? Will I have to fake my own death and start over… alone? What if there aren’t coffee shops where we’re going?

Maybe I’ll learn carpentry too, like Tango. Gah.

“Stay on course,” River says, taking my elbow. I jolt. Wait, when did he move close? He eases me up, his grip firm, and tells the other man: “If you deviate an inch, I’ll slit your throat.”

Tango’s nervous laughter turns into a cough. “Yes, sir.”

River turns to me, voice low. “Come on.”

I stumble after him in a daze. “Can we trust him?” I hiss as River leads me out on deck, the sky blushing pink all around and reflected on the water. It’s cooler now, the breeze cutting through my tank top and making me shiver.

River tugs me to the edge. “Not an inch. But we can trust him to save his own skin.”

My fingers wrap around the metal rail, and I flex them, clinging tight. The engine rumbles beneath us, the boat cutting through the calm ocean, and the white dots of seabirds cluster together on the water, gossiping and preening their feathers.

Ask him. Just ask him.

Ask him if he still wants you.

Why is this so freaking hard? I just survived a band of mercenaries, damn it! I hiked up a volcano! I tramped through a jungle! Why are these feelings so much scarier?

River steps behind me, his chest warm and solid against my back, and grips the rail on either side of my hands. Oh.

I melt with relief.

“Betty,” he says, lips brushing my earlobe.

Shivers cascade over my skin, and heat pulses between my legs.

Thank god. Thank god. “Listen, I won’t force you to stay with me.

If you’d prefer, I can make sure you’re safe, set you up somewhere new, then leave you be.

Protect you from a distance. I won’t make you do anything, alright? If you’d rather—”

“But it’s an option?” I interrupt, squeezing the rail until my knuckles go white. “Staying with you is an option?”

There’s a long pause, and my stomach drops.

I can’t say goodbye to this man. I can’t.

“That will always be an option for you,” River says at last. The words scrape out of his throat, raw and confessional. “Whether you take it now, or in a year, or in ten years’ time—”

“I’ll take it now,” I say quickly. Adrenaline spikes in my veins, and there it is again: that thrill. That dizzy, flying feeling. I grip the rail with clammy hands, and I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. The wind tosses my hair. “I want to stay with you now.”

River makes a rumbly noise, half triumphant, half disbelief, and crowds against me, head to toe. His booming heartbeat rattles my bones.

“I’m not a good man, Betty.” Calloused palms slide under my tank top, stroking my hips, my waist, my ribs.

“You are to me.”

And besides: what’s life without that delicious edge of danger? You think some well-behaved accountant could ever make me feel this way? Buzzing with so much joy and excitement, I could levitate off the deck?

“That’s because you’re mine,” River breathes against my neck, trailing hungry kisses over my skin. “Precious. Perfect. Mine.” Then, quieter: “Fucking Tango. If he looks at you one more time, I’ll gouge his eyes out.”

I snort, because he’s joking. Probably.

When I reach back and weave my fingers through his dark hair, River butts against my hand like a tamed jungle cat. When he flicks my pants button open, my legs go all wobbly, and I lean harder on the rail.

“Yeah?” River’s breath is hot against my ear. He yanks the zipper of my too-big army fatigues down, then pauses. “Betty?”

I gulp down air, trying desperately to think straight. Every cell in my body is screaming for me to bend over already, idiot!

But we’re not alone on this boat. I cough. “Can Tango see us?”

River’s enraged snarl makes my belly twist. Hoo, boy.

“ No, ” he grits out, chest heaving against my back. “He will never see a fucking inch of you.” The breath saws out of him, strained and ragged. “Goddamn it, Betty. Now I need to kill someone.”

My startled laugh calms him down. He shakes his head, the tension seeping slowly from his muscles, then mouths at my shoulder as blunt fingers stroke the waistband of my underwear.

River pauses again. Still waiting for my blessing. I nudge back with my ass, feeling bold again now I know this is truly private. It’s just us.

Just me and the rogue agent I tamed. No biggie.

“You gonna let me touch you, sweetheart?” River’s low voice thrums with satisfaction. Primal, male satisfaction, as his fingers dip inside my underwear and coast lower. When he finds me soaked, he grunts and curls over slightly, like I’ve kicked him in the gut. “ Christ .”

Blunt fingers saw up and down my seam, spreading wetness, circling my clit. Making me gasp.

“I’ll do you one better,” I tell him, and though my insides are all jittery and nervous, my words are steady.

I tilt my hips and hope my meaning is clear—but then I think hey, why be shy ?

I didn’t survive this caper only to swallow my words.

“I’m gonna let you fuck me, River. Right now on our getaway boat. Claim me. Make me yours.”

He groans, and it sounds pained. The fingers between my legs move rougher, possessively, coasting easily through the slickness, and his teeth scrape my jaw. “So I’m your man?”

“Yeah.” I jut my ass out further, demanding now. “You’re my man. My first and only. So what’s taking so long, huh? Don’t you want to see what you’ve won?”

River’s bark of laughter startles a flock of seabirds, even over the noise of the boat engine.

They explode off the surface of the water, white wings flapping, screeching their complaints, but River’s too busy yanking down my pants and underwear to hear them.

They’re already fading into the distance behind us anyway.

He strips me all the way naked except for my tank top, the stained white fabric flapping in the wind. Gonna burn it so soon. Then he props my knee on the middle rail, spreading me open, and now I’m bared. On display.

Cool wind rushes over my body, tickling me everywhere. The metal rail is cool and slippy with seawater beneath my knee, but I don’t care. I tilt my ass and toss my raggedy ponytail like I’m auditioning for a music video.

And maybe I look dumb—but judging by the ravenous glint in River’s dark eyes, I don’t think so. He crowds close again, clothes against skin, and his knuckles brush my lower back as he works his belt buckle.

“You’re mine,” he says again, and he sounds surer now. Strong hands grip my hips and tug me back an inch, putting me exactly where he wants me. “My perfect girl.”

The broad head of his cock nudges my entrance. I tense up for half a breath, the reaction automatic, but River strokes my spine until I melt again. “That’s it, Betty. Be brave. Let me in.”

Brave? Oh, I can be brave. I’m the barista who hiked above a freaking lava field.

I bite my lip and sink back on his shaft.