What are you doing?
I’d kissed him. It was up to me to decide how the kiss would morph.
Did I kiss him in thanks? In friendship? In desperation for everything I might never see again? Or did I kiss him in lust? In attraction? In hopes of finding my rules on friendship could be stretched to something more?
Galloway bit back a groan as I parted my lips, accepting everything I couldn’t articulate. His hand swooped up, capturing the back of my neck. His fingers tightened around my nape, pulling me harder against his mouth.
The possessive pressure undid me; I swiped my tongue into his wet warmth.
And that was it.
He snapped.
His crutch thudded softly to the sand as his arm wrapped tightly around me, lifting me off my feet. A few hops and hobbles and my back wedged against the umbrella tree, my front bowing under the hard lines of his body.
I gasped as his fingers hooked around my hair, tugging my head back, kissing me harder.
Oh, God.
He was everywhere at once. Kissing me with an intensity I worried would devour me.
Don’t stop.
His hands ran down my body only to recapture my face. Kissing me harder, faster, wilder.
Wait...
I clung to him, letting him do what he wanted because it gave me the freedom to live in sensation.
Stop.
I couldn’t stop.
My lips danced with his; our tongues fought and licked.
Stop!
Lust crushed everything in its path. I melted as Galloway grabbed my thigh and hitched it over his hip. I arched my back as his hand skated to my breast. I moaned as— “Wait!” I pushed him away, panting hard.
He growled as I removed his fingers from my nipple. The sharp jolt of liquid pleasure almost made me give in. But this wasn’t real life. This wasn’t some holiday. This was serious.
This can’t happen.
Ducking away from the cage of his arms, I did my best to straighten my hair. Conner and Pippa still slept (thank God) and I rubbed my lips to rid the electrical current left by his kiss.
Galloway breathed hard. “What was that?”
I paced in front of him. “I—I don’t know.”
“You kissed me, remember?”
“I know I did.”
“Then why did you stop?”
“Just because I kissed you doesn’t mean I was going to sleep with you.”
“Oh, no? You were pretty keen on the idea a few seconds ago.”
The heat throbbing in my core rapidly switched to indignation. “Wow, your ego’s pretty big, you know that?”
“That’s not the only thing that’s big.” He winked.
“Really? You’re going to treat this like a sleazy pickup?” Infuriation was a smoking fire in my chest. “That’s low, Galloway.”
“What do you want? An apology for something I didn’t start?” His jaw ticked. “Look, I’m aware that there are things about me that aren’t...smooth. A lot of me is riddled with flaws. But that kiss...it wasn’t one of them. That kiss—” He cut himself off, whistling under his breath. “That kiss was the best damn kiss I’ve ever had.”
I shivered with delight even as I stomped on lust with steel-capped boots. “Doesn’t matter. It won’t happen again.”
“Why not?” His voice was a whip.
I waved at the warming dawn, lapping tide, and empty island. “Because we have much more important things to worry about.”
He sighed, bending awkwardly to pick up his crutch. “You’re right.”
I paused, sensing a trap.
Determination plastered his face as he repositioned himself. “However, this situation is a pretty shitty one. What’s the harm in finding happiness to make it bearable?”
My breathing slowly calmed. “You’re saying you were happy kissing me?”
“I’ve never been happier.”
“Oh.”
How can he say that with what’s happened?
“You guys are up already?” Conner yawned, rubbing his sleepy eyes.
Galloway and I jumped.
The guilt of doing something we shouldn’t stamped a scarlet letter onto my forehead.
Galloway managed to set aside our little indiscretion and act completely normal. “Yep. No sleeping in for us.”
Conner swiped his good hand through copper hair, making it stand up in every direction. He needed a bath (we all did), but apart from the dwindling supply of toothpaste and the aid of our ingenious use of sand as soap, we had nothing else to use.
Dragging dirty hair over my shoulder, I quickly plaited it—doing my best to hide that it desperately needed a clean. I couldn’t decide if the blonde was darkening with filth or bleaching thanks to the salt and sunshine.
Rolling from his makeshift bed, Conner jumped a few times to get his circulation going. “Damn, I’m freezing.”
My eyes flittered to Pippa; she slept in a tight ball with my jacket over her legs. Poor kid needed blankets, not exposure to the sky.
Would it be possible to make some?
It might be possible, but bedclothes were far down the totem pole of importance.
As is making out and all things related to desire.