slipped it over her head, before he reached up and did the same with his. “I’d rather it be only us right now.”
No, no, no, I can’t do this. She couldn’t catch her breath as he scooted closer. The tips of his fingers traced over her cheek, light as butterfly wings, before his palm settled there. The warmth of it sent a shockwave of desire through her, and she sucked in a hard breath. “Please…” No.
Jonathon leaned in, his lips hovered over hers. “There’s something about you, angel,” he whispered. “Something I can’t quite put my finger on.”
His words leaked into the fog of lust, chilling the heat. Phoebe pushed back from him and scrambled to her feet, not daring to look back as she strode toward the surf. Tears welled up, and she swiped them away, sniffing. That “something” he’d mentioned had changed her life forever and it seemed he still didn’t remember it. And even if later he did recall their one night, would it matter to him? Probably not, she thought, as escaped tears trickled down her cheeks.
Stars popped to life one by one as Phoebe stared over the Indian Ocean. The half-moon reflected in the waves, night birds took up choruses with frogs and the gulls. She heard the splash of something large as it breached the surface of the water. The peace soothed her rattled emotions, and she took several deep, cleansing breaths of the fragrant air.
Before long the stressful day had taken its toll. Her eyelids grew heavy and she yawned. Sand fleas nipped at her feet and ankles, and she waded into the warm waves. The temptation to take a swim tugged her, but there were many species of sharks and stingrays calling the shallows home. They weren’t known to be particularly dangerous to humans, but nonetheless she didn’t want to risk an encounter while they were most active. Help was miles and miles away.
She turned back to the campsite. Jonathon had disappeared, perhaps inside the hut. Shadows cast by trees made it impossible to see beyond the door. There wouldn’t be much space between them, even with her petite size. Being within touching distance of a man who left her wrecked seemed cruel. Sleeping outside might be better. But avoiding Jonathon wasn’t the answer, they still had a full twenty-four days left on the island. Best to buck up and deal with it. Let him know she could resist temptation despite the little voice that mocked otherwise.
She returned to camp and peeped into their shelter. Jonathon lay on the pallet of palm fronds, an arm slung over his face. He appeared to be asleep. Her gaze drifted down his body. Muscular arms, six-pack abs, strong thighs. His boxer briefs stretched over his hips, and she saw the outline of his soft cock beneath. Heat crept into her face and she stepped back, deciding to tend to the fire.
She fed some wood to the flames, and poked at the coals with a stick. Smoke drifted around her, burning her eyes, but chasing away the humming mosquitoes. With nothing else to keep her busy, and exhaustion leaving her shaking, she walked to the hut, placed her headband on the sand next to her island mate’s, and ducked inside the shelter. Jonathon had laid down as close to one wall as possible, yet their arms still brushed as she stretched next to him. His presence filled the small space, and she pulled palm fronds over her, trying to block him out.
“Have any bedtime stories?” he asked.
She started at the sudden sound of his voice. “Sorry, did I wake you?” she asked, silently cursing. Sleeping Jonathon was much easier to deal with than awake Jonathon in their tiny, makeshift home.
“No, it’s too quiet to sleep. I’m used to the sounds of traffic.”
The din of the island’s nighttime tropical creatures sounded louder than any traffic she’d ever heard. At home, she often fell asleep to the quieter sounds of crickets and owls.
“Might be fun to share some ghost stories, seeing as we’re on a deserted island,” he continued.
She heard him
No, no, no, I can’t do this. She couldn’t catch her breath as he scooted closer. The tips of his fingers traced over her cheek, light as butterfly wings, before his palm settled there. The warmth of it sent a shockwave of desire through her, and she sucked in a hard breath. “Please…” No.
Jonathon leaned in, his lips hovered over hers. “There’s something about you, angel,” he whispered. “Something I can’t quite put my finger on.”
His words leaked into the fog of lust, chilling the heat. Phoebe pushed back from him and scrambled to her feet, not daring to look back as she strode toward the surf. Tears welled up, and she swiped them away, sniffing. That “something” he’d mentioned had changed her life forever and it seemed he still didn’t remember it. And even if later he did recall their one night, would it matter to him? Probably not, she thought, as escaped tears trickled down her cheeks.
Stars popped to life one by one as Phoebe stared over the Indian Ocean. The half-moon reflected in the waves, night birds took up choruses with frogs and the gulls. She heard the splash of something large as it breached the surface of the water. The peace soothed her rattled emotions, and she took several deep, cleansing breaths of the fragrant air.
Before long the stressful day had taken its toll. Her eyelids grew heavy and she yawned. Sand fleas nipped at her feet and ankles, and she waded into the warm waves. The temptation to take a swim tugged her, but there were many species of sharks and stingrays calling the shallows home. They weren’t known to be particularly dangerous to humans, but nonetheless she didn’t want to risk an encounter while they were most active. Help was miles and miles away.
She turned back to the campsite. Jonathon had disappeared, perhaps inside the hut. Shadows cast by trees made it impossible to see beyond the door. There wouldn’t be much space between them, even with her petite size. Being within touching distance of a man who left her wrecked seemed cruel. Sleeping outside might be better. But avoiding Jonathon wasn’t the answer, they still had a full twenty-four days left on the island. Best to buck up and deal with it. Let him know she could resist temptation despite the little voice that mocked otherwise.
She returned to camp and peeped into their shelter. Jonathon lay on the pallet of palm fronds, an arm slung over his face. He appeared to be asleep. Her gaze drifted down his body. Muscular arms, six-pack abs, strong thighs. His boxer briefs stretched over his hips, and she saw the outline of his soft cock beneath. Heat crept into her face and she stepped back, deciding to tend to the fire.
She fed some wood to the flames, and poked at the coals with a stick. Smoke drifted around her, burning her eyes, but chasing away the humming mosquitoes. With nothing else to keep her busy, and exhaustion leaving her shaking, she walked to the hut, placed her headband on the sand next to her island mate’s, and ducked inside the shelter. Jonathon had laid down as close to one wall as possible, yet their arms still brushed as she stretched next to him. His presence filled the small space, and she pulled palm fronds over her, trying to block him out.
“Have any bedtime stories?” he asked.
She started at the sudden sound of his voice. “Sorry, did I wake you?” she asked, silently cursing. Sleeping Jonathon was much easier to deal with than awake Jonathon in their tiny, makeshift home.
“No, it’s too quiet to sleep. I’m used to the sounds of traffic.”
The din of the island’s nighttime tropical creatures sounded louder than any traffic she’d ever heard. At home, she often fell asleep to the quieter sounds of crickets and owls.
“Might be fun to share some ghost stories, seeing as we’re on a deserted island,” he continued.
She heard him
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