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DAY THREE

“I’m sorry.”

I spun around, stumbling in shock. “You’re awake.”

Galloway’s hand lashed out, catching my elbow and keeping me upright. “Heard you get up.”

I took a step away, breaking his hold (even though his touch was more than welcome). I didn’t like the animosity from yesterday and definitely didn’t like the sensation of loneliness when he’d left. I had no one else to turn to. We couldn’t afford to be angry with each other.

“I’m sorry, too.”

His eyes smouldered in the night, his lips twitching into a soft smile.

Some of my fear and unhappiness dissolved. I was so glad to have someone to talk to, even if the topics of conversation weren’t normal.

Galloway was no longer a stranger but a friend. A friend I trusted even if I didn’t fully understand.

Turning to face the polyethylene he’d wrapped around a few branches of our shady tree (what was that about anyway?), I whispered, “I couldn’t sleep.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I ensured Pippa and Conner slept without interruption. After my slip into unconsciousness, I’d awoken abruptly, only to find the sun hadn’t risen yet.

“Me either.” Galloway swayed, his crutch wedged beneath his arm for support. The cut on his thigh had scabbed over, healing faster than the scrape on my chest.

At some point, he’d pulled on a pair of board-shorts with a black and teal pattern. They hid his boxer-briefs but still allowed the splint to stay on.

“How are you feeling?” I hugged myself, doing my best to stay warm. Daytimes were hot but the nights...weren’t. If lack of hunger didn’t kill us, the swinging temperatures would.

Galloway glanced away. “I’m fine.”

“Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

A flicker of amusement. “Probably not.”

“Such a man.”

“I would’ve expected a worse name than that.”

We made eye contact. My heart became a stupid pinwheel. “Oh? What should I call you?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Idiot? Douche-bag? Those are two.”

I let the joviality hover, enjoying the simplicity. “I don’t think either of those suit you.”

His voice switched to an intoxicating murmur. “What do you suggest then?”

Turning to face him, I cocked my head. I used it as an excuse to stare at him. Stare at his dark brown hair curling over his forehead, the pink sunburn on his nose, and his perfectly formed lips.

My stomach fluttered as his gaze dropped to my mouth.

Everything tightened. My muscles, my core, my heart.

I wanted to bridge the gap between us. I wanted to wrap myself around him, and in turn, have his arms wrap around me, stealing reassurance that tomorrow would be a better day.

Joking disappeared as we stood, totally silent, utterly immobile, neither breaking the spell. It was unbelievably stupid to get caught up in desire, but in that stolen moon-sleeping moment, reality vanished and I indulged in guilty, desperately needed pleasure.

Kiss him.

Galloway sucked in a breath as I swayed closer.

I didn’t touch him.

No hands or arms or fingers.

Just closed the distance, stood on my toes, and pressed my lips to his.

He froze.

I froze.

The world froze as our lips joined, and I forgot what came next. I forgot because every thought in my head erupted into a thousand pieces of confetti.

His lips, oh...

They were so warm and firm and masculine and...

He tilted his head ever so slightly, the tip of his tongue caressing me. His touch wasn’t a seduction more of a question.

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.