My curiosity wins out.
“Fine,” I agree.
“Your boyfriend gave it to me,” he grumbles. No explanation, just the statement. I didn’t realize he and Dane had any interaction, and I’m surprised. Especially because I feel like this is something Dane would have told me.
Is Weston lying?
“You must have done something to deserve it,” I say.
Like kill the last Guardian.
A soft chuckle echoes in the otherwise silent room. “Keep telling yourself that, princess.”
Silence falls again as I wait for my question. I wonder if he changed his mind when he doesn’t speak, and my impatience is too much to handle.
“What’s your question?”
He doesn’t answer right away, just shifts and adjusts the blankets, pulling them slightly tighter around me.
“How old are you?”
That’s what he wants to know? My age? On an island with no time, my age shouldn’t matter at all, especially since every person on Dawnlin is of varied ages. All of us deserve to be here, no matter how old we are. I can’t believe he didn’t ask me something he truly wanted to know, something that would help his cause.
Maybe he thinks showing a personal interest will soften me. He’s wrong. I answer him anyway. If he squandered a perfectly good chance to find out information, that is his mistake.
“Twenty-one.”
He looses a soft sigh before speaking again, the words barely a mumble, “That’s what I thought. Goodnight, princess.”
The mattress shifts underneath me as I assume he turns away.
My mind reels with what he could need to know my age for, but I decide I don’t care. How do any of the Castaways even know how old they are? They’ve been stuck at this age for as long as they have been here, and no one truly knows how time moves here compared to the real world.
I shrug it off as a mere curiosity and close my eyes, praying for another night without nightmares.
“Goodnight, Captain.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Images of Weston hovering above me flash through my mind all night, making sleep near impossible. It’s like I can still feel his hips pressed into mine, his breath brushing my lips, the grumble in his chest as he questioned me.
I should not be this attracted to him, and I can’t make sense of it. How could someone as beguiling as him have such a cruel heart? My body can’t seem to control itself when it comes to Weston, and I blame it on pent up sexual frustration from stopping Dane so he didn’t find my map.
I toss and turn all night, giving up on staying hunkered close to the edge. Sleep is intermittent, an unsatisfied ache preventing any true rest for my body or my mind. I need it to go away, and there’s only one way to do it. My eyes stay closed as I bite my lip, heart pounding in my ears, blocking out all other noise.
Fingertips brush over the soft shirt as my hand wanders slowly over my body, moving to fill the need itself. Part of me doesn’t care if I rustle the bedding, as long as I don’t make any other noises. My solitary focus is to get rid of this need.
I feel the edge of my undergarments and slowly slide beneath them, my hips wiggling in anticipation of the touch, when I freeze. The brush of lips on the tip of my shoulder startles me,followed by a callused palm sliding over my elbow, down my forearm.
“Let me.”
The voice grumbles in my ear and heat floods my entire body, the space between my thighs turning molten. My chest heaves as my hand quickly abandons its plan, instead grasping the sheets beside me as his lips trail light kisses across my collarbone.
I nod quickly, squeezing my eyes shut tighter. I know if I open them, I might stop this from happening, even if my body is screaming at me to let it. I feel his smile on my skin as he shifts over me, hovering, driving me wild without any contact except for his lips. He trails his nose up the column of my neck, kissing and licking his way up to my jaw.
A hum fills my chest, and I lift my chin, giving him more access.
He slides his hand down my side, settling at the crease above my thigh. His fingers flutter, bunching my shirt until the hem is balled up in his hand. An involuntary shiver courses through me as the shirt slides up higher.
