Hauling me onto the wave-lapped shore, Galloway lay me down, baptising me in seawater as his hands clutched the beach on either side of my head and thrust up.
Everything dissolved.
My legs opened.
My fingers clutched.
And my body beckoned him deeper.
“Christ, Estelle.” His mouth found mine and together we rode, splashed, and claimed, rocking to the same despairing rhythm, our tongues mimicking our bodies, our mutual want ensuring our rise to the pinnacle flew rather than swam.
Thrust after thrust, I spooled tighter into a galaxy waiting to supernova.
Thrust after thrust, my fear about him coming tainted my pleasure.
And when a growling groan spilled from his lips and his back turned to stone and his features set in quartz, I panicked.
“Stop!”
He didn’t.
His lips claimed mine again, orchestrating my body to ignore repercussions and only live in the moment. To come with him. Because he was seconds from coming undone.
“No!” I screamed, my heels kicking his back.
His hips stopped pistoning, his eyes round with fear. “What? I won’t hurt you. I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.” Rage replaced the stunned terror. “You said you believed me!”
My breathing turned wet with swallowed tears. “I promised? You promised. You said you wouldn’t come inside me.”
His eyebrows shot into his dark hairline. “I wasn’t. I wouldn’t.”
“You were about to.”
Babies and pregnancy and complications.
My passion bubbled into panic.
“I wouldn’t go back on a promise, Estelle. I was about to pull out.”
I shoved his shoulders. “Well, pull out now. I can’t—I can’t do this.”
Wrong thing to say.
Heavy shoplifter-proof shutters clanged over his eyes. Without a word, he moved his hips, withdrawing the hard deliciousness from between my legs. Sitting on his knees, he scowled. “Happy?”
Scrambling up, I hugged my knees, feeling ridiculously stupid and horribly naked. “No. I’m not happy. I know I just ruined it. But I’m sorry. I can’t...I can’t—”
“I wasn’t going to come in you, Estelle. You told me not to. I would’ve obeyed.”
I had nothing to say.
I was stupid to jump the gun and ruin something so perfect.
But it was ruined, and I didn’t have the strength to salvage it.
Not today.
Unfolding, I stood, fighting the urge to cover myself. “I’m sorry, Galloway.” Turning my back on him, I scooped my sodden bikini floating like a black stain on the water and purposely didn’t look back.
Chapter Forty-Two
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G A L L O W A Y
......
I RUINED IT.
Just like I ruined every other good thing in my life.
That night, I lay in bed agonising over how I could’ve prevented the awful ending after the best sexual experience of my life.
Estelle was everything I wanted. It wasn’t just because she was the only woman on the island. It wasn’t just because I found her attractive and smart.
She was my person.
The one perfect creation just for me.
And the knowledge that I’d upset her by doing something she didn’t want me to do.
It bloody killed me.
I’d tried to talk to her once I returned to camp. We had all day to clear the air and sort out how to fix what was broken. But Estelle threw herself into taking care of Pippa and Conner. She gathered firewood, stoppered containers full of fresh water, fried silver fish in coconut milk, and garnished the dish with fresh salad and toasted coconut shards.
By the time the moon kicked the blazing sun from its throne, lack of sleep from the night before with turtle watching, and the stress of upsetting Estelle, I fell into a restless sleep on my side of the partition wall.
All night she didn’t come to me. She didn’t crawl around the flax barrier or cuddle into my side.
The next day was just as bad.
Strained and unnatural smiles. Sugary words and polite conversation painted over the truth of what we needed to say.
It was God-awful.
The worst day of my damn life.
But with the magic of hindsight, it wasn’t the worst.
Not really.
I’d thought the crash was bad. Being stranded. The fear of survival and never being found.
Turned out, it could get worse.
And it was coming for us.
We just didn’t know it.
Chapter Forty-Three
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E S T E L L E
......
Fortune favours the fortunate. Bad luck favours the deserving.
The world has its favourites, just like every man, woman, and child has theirs. We have our favourite person, our favourite food, our favourite memory.
And unfortunately, the universe has its favourites, too. And for those who don’t play by its rules, misfortune and bad luck reigns.
I thought I was one of the favourites.
Turns out, I was wrong.
Taken from the notepad of E.E.
...
BAD LUCK COMES in threes (or, at least, that was how the expression went). Our luck—what with crashing and being left to our own devices for four months—might be slightly skewed. However, it felt as if the universe didn’t like us very much with the week that followed after I slept with Galloway.
First, there was Conner.
The day after my disastrous tryst, Conner collected his fishing spear like every other day and went to spend the morning chasing breakfast, lunch, and dinner.