“Yes, I love gummy bears. Mummy rarely let me have them, though.”
The sun had kissed every inch of Pippa’s body a nutmeg brown. Most days, she ran around topless in her white knickers (well, now grey from swimming and no bleach). I’d tanned as well but not as much. Being blonde, I burned instead, but my hair had turned almost white thanks to always being in the ocean.
Galloway was the only one whose hair colour hadn’t noticeably changed. It’d stayed a delicious dark chocolate, demanding my fingers to run through it.
He was so handsome. So wild and untamed, becoming sexier the further society slipped away. His beard framed his perfect lips, taunting me to kiss him, and his blue eyes only grew brighter the more he tanned.
His muscles had become even more defined as we all lost body fat, turning to sinew and skeleton. But his hands...they intoxicated me the most. Was it because two of his fingers had been inside me? Or was it because of the visible veins disappearing up ropy forearms?
Everything about him turned me on. The daily battle was real.
Not to mention, a second period had tormented me the past few days. I’d always been irregular and the fact I had no sanitary products meant those days were the worse. Leaves could only do so much. (Let’s just say, laundry day turned into laundry hour and I stayed alert when I swam, just in case of sharks).
I hate being a woman.
I squeezed the flax, wringing out some of my frustration.
“G said he’d show me how to make a necklace out of fish bones.” Pippa beamed. “You want to learn, too?”
He knows how to do that?
My heart fluttered. Galloway...sigh. He’d gone out of his way to entertain the children, making me want him almost as much as I wanted sugar and coffee.
No, I want him more than that.
I squeezed my eyes.
Stop it.
“I’d love a lesson...if it’s okay if I join.”
“Yep.”
“It’s a date then.”
Drying my hands on my legs, I pushed upright.
Pippa followed, her body nimble and naked chest showing a skinny girl who needed to put on a few kilos.
Are we malnourished?
Will my periods vanish the longer we stay?
How long could a human body function before vitamins and minerals depleted to dangerous levels?
“That’s it?” She pointed at the flax. “Are you going to drain it?”
“No, I’ll let the sun and water rot it a little.”
“Rot?”
“I’m not sure that’s what I want to happen. But I need the structure to break down, so it becomes malleable. Rotting is the best idea I came up with.”
“And the salt water will do that?”
“Who the hell knows?” I threw my arm over her shoulders. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we? Now, let’s go find G and play with fish bones.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
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G A L L O W A Y
......
EIGHT WEEKS
WAS IT POSSIBLE to hate everything but be grateful at the same time?
I hated clams, but I loved them because they fed us.
I hated the evergreen-tainted water from the trees, but I loved every droplet because it quenched my thirst.
I hated the sand, the sun, the waves, the island, the calendar on Estelle’s bloody phone marking every day we’d been missing, but I loved them all because I was alive to see them.
And I hated Estelle...but I loved her, too.
Damn curse.
Damn woman.
I’d done what I’d promised and locked away every desire and craving I had for her. I treated her like the best friend I never had. I went out of my way to be kind and courteous and how did she repay me? By watching my every move with lust dripping from her pores. She licked her lips if I stripped in the hot sun. She sucked in a breath if I accidentally brushed past. Her body sent message after message to take her.
She infected my dreams, my thoughts, every damn moment.
It wasn’t fair.
I suffered a permanent case of blue balls and deliberately sat farther and farther away from her at meal times and during chores around the camp.
But it didn’t help.
There was no ignoring the heat in her gaze or the begs in her body.
But she’d told me no.
And until she told me yes, she could keep staring, keep hurting both of us. I’d tried to make her accept me, and she’d turned me down. If she wanted me...it was her turn to do the grovelling.
Conner groaned as his spear flew sideways down the beach. If the kid wasn’t in the ocean hunting fish, he was on the sand practicing.
Today was no different.
My leg itched and I wanted the splint off. If I were honest, I’d wanted it off the day Estelle had put it on. But I didn’t dare remove it. I was too chicken to see if the break was still abnormally crooked.
I’d become used to estimating the time with the placement of the sun, and I guessed it was threeish. Estelle and Pippa had disappeared to find firewood, and I was sick to death of plaiting rope for a house I still wasn’t physically ready to build.
Screw it.
Hauling myself up, I grabbed my walking stick. Last week, I’d chopped my crutch in half so I could use it as support rather than a second leg. I’d disposed of the end, keeping the bulbous root for a convenient handhold.
Hopping toward Conner, I was grateful the sharp pain had turned to an aching throb and was tempted to put more and more weight on my ankle.
Don’t be an idiot.