What the hell was that about?
My cock had hardened to a damn palm tree, desperate to get inside her even though I didn’t deserve the kiss, let alone anything else.
I accepted my ration of food as Estelle broke apart the last muesli bar and nibbled hers with determination. I inhaled mine in one bite. I wouldn’t taunt my system with tiny tastes. It wouldn’t do me any better to eat fast or slow.
But I did know what would make me feel better.
Being productive and helpful.
My eyes landed on Estelle’s exposed arms and legs. She still wore Conner’s black t-shirt and cotton shorts. Conner wore similar attire of chequered board-shorts and a grey t-shirt, and Pippa wore a pink skirt and frilly tank top.
Instead of unblemished skin, they were all pink from being in the sun and swollen bumps marked our forearms and legs from mosquitoes.
The freaking bugs had killed us. We didn’t have coverage and were easy blood sacks.
That needs to be rectified.
How? I had no freaking idea.
Estelle finished her breakfast and tucked the empty wrapper and bottle into the pile of belongings so it didn’t litter the sea. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as she grabbed something from her handbag and turned her back on all of us.
I hated myself for watching.
I hated that I couldn’t stop my eyes drinking in glimpses of her naked back as she changed from t-shirt to bikini top now the heat had returned.
My cock twitched as she struggled to tie the strings, wrangling with the black material still strapping her ribs.
I was a damn pervert. A pervert who lay on his back giving in to weakness and injury.
Estelle managed to complete the bow, before turning to pick up a few items and forage in the black survival bag the pilot had in the cockpit.
What the hell is she doing?
My leg and foot didn’t feel any better and the constant throb made my temper nasty. I’d snapped at poor Pippa when she’d asked a billion questions about the water collector. She’d only been inquisitive, but her questions showed me how much of a fraud I was.
Estelle had given me a stern look, making me feel like scum (worse than scum, the algae infesting scum).
Self-pity was an ugly monster, and I wanted it out.
I needed it out.
The urge to walk, jog, run overwhelmed me. But I couldn’t. And even if I could, it would be insane to exercise beneath the hot sunshine with no food or water.
Conner stood, brushing his hands on his shorts. “Gonna use the little boy’s room.”
He vanished into the undergrowth, reminding me another task awaited. We had to dig a latrine; otherwise, the bugs would be ten times worse.
“We’ll leave when you’re done,” Estelle called after him.
Conner paused. “Leave?”
“Yes, to the helicopter.” She held up the Swiss Army knife and axe. “We’ll unscrew some panels so we’re prepared for rain.”
Oh, hell no.
“Wait a goddamn minute.” I hauled myself to my feet.
Shit...
The beach swam with agony. I wanted to punch a tree and vomit at the same time.
Estelle didn’t come to support me, backing away instead into the forest. “I told you before, Galloway. You’re not well enough—”
“I’m perfectly well enough.”
Her fingers tightened on the weapons. “No, you’re not. Be reasonable. You’re borderline feverish. Your ankle is giving you grief. Conner and I can do this. We’ll be back a lot quicker than you would be. The walk alone would kill you.”
My nostrils flared. “Way to make me feel completely useless, Estelle.”
Goddammit, did she have to take every task away from me?
“You’re not useless.” She pointed at the umbrella tree. “You’ve provided us with water, for goodness’ sake. You’ve guaranteed we’ll survive a few more days.”
I shook my head. “I should be the one going back there—”
Don’t make me say it out loud with the kid present.
Conner had disappeared but was most likely in hearing distance. And Pippa, she already had a healthy dose of wariness around me.
Not that I blamed her.
But things needed to be discussed...dealt with. Horrible things that no one should have to do.
“Estelle,” I growled. “You can’t go. I’m the one who—”
“Who what? Needs to drag heavy pieces of fuselage back? How exactly? You have a crutch; you can’t carry large items with one hand. That won’t work.”
She’s right.
I didn’t care that she was right.
This was about me being her equal. Me being worthy. Me showing her I was strong enough for her to lean...reliable enough to deserve her trust.
And something else entirely.
“I’m not talking about that.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
I glanced at Pippa. “Not suitable for—”
She jammed her hands on her hips. The flat muscles of her stomach peeked below the black strapping on her chest. “You started this argument, Galloway. So finish it. Why should you be the one to—”
Bloody hell.