Page 30 of Return to the Island

18

Juliet

After we swam, he made us grilled fish and vegetables over a small Hibachi. This at least felt familiar. I refused the formal seat at the table, telling him we should make a picnic of it, spreading the table cloth over the sand by the fire. He’d given me a moment of privacy after we swam and I draped myself in a towel. He wore the same thing wrapped around his hips, and we laughed at how native we’d become. Again, it felt good to laugh.

He fed me off his fork. I fed him with my fingers. It was romantic in its own way, not the forced way he originally intended. After cleaning up the dishes, we sat by the fire with our own thoughts. He’d taken a blanket and wrapped it around us. We still wore only our towel-dressings. The night chattered as it had before with birds chirping, the ocean gently lapping, and the breeze rustling the leaves. It was peaceful, like my heart at the moment.

“What’re you thinking?” he asked.

“How things change.” I paused. “I feel like the island recognizes me. It’s telling me things, but I don’t understand their meaning. Silly, right?”

“Garvey would say you are one with nature.”

“Explain Colton, his son, to me. I thought you disliked him.”

“I learned that Garvey was instrumental in getting me into restorative justice. His grandfather and my great-grandfather had some kind of understanding. When he learned I was in trouble, he went to my father. His son had gone through this process. I asked Garvey about the experiment.”

“Was he involved?” I asked, shifting to look up at him from my position between his thighs.

“He wasn’t. I should have known better. He believes this island is sacred. He trusts in his cultural heritage. He believed I was here alone, but he also recognized that finding you here was a sign. Nature speaking, in some way.”

“So you believe it? Getting in touch with nature and everything?”

“Can't get any more one with nature than eating dinner nearly naked,” he replied playfully, his finger tugging at my hair. I laughed in response and silence slipped between us again. My thoughts turned serious.

“So many things I'm sorry for,” I said, my voice low.

“Me too,” he said swiping back his hair. He looked more like I remembered. Not so polished. “Trusting Rick. Being a dick. So many things I can't take back.”

“You still feel responsible for me, don’t you?” The question made me sad.

“I feel love for you.”

I spun to face him, my eyes searching his.

I still love you, I wanted to say, but I didn’t. I couldn’t explain why I still held back.

“Come inside the tent,” I said instead. I stood and stalked to the canvas structure, his presence following me as he moved from his seat by the fire. Just inside the flaps, I removed my towel. Slowly, stepping forward, I lowered and kneeled onto the mattress. It was lusher than his original one. A thick blanket softened the edges.

“And the vixen has returned,” he muttered directly behind me, having caught up to me.

Crawling forward on the bed, my bare ass exposed to him, he grabbed my ankle, halting me in the position.

“I want to have you my way. Can you trust me?”

I looked at him over my shoulder, my hair loose and tucked to one side around my neck. The truth was I did trust him, but I couldn’t explain it any more than my love for him. I nodded instead.

“Stretch forward, reach for the edge of the mattress.” The command made me wet, heat rose between my thighs. I did as he asked. Reaching forward like a lazy cat, my fingers found the edge of the mattress.

“Lift your hips.”

I purred in response, not recognizing my own noises. Firm hands caressed my ass, a warm massage to the cool skin.

“I won't ever tie you up again unless you ask me. And we'll stop if it's too intense.” His voice was husky, his attention focused on spreading the globes of my behind apart and gripping my hips. My heart raced with the possibility. I didn’t know if I could handle him going there.

“We'll play this my way.” The phrase made me catch my breath, and he rubbed a hand up my spine to calm my fears. “Blink can be our safe word.” On instinct, I blinked without responding verbally.

He smoothed over tender skin and my hips shifted, following the warmth of his palm. He smacked me once, and I yelped, and then he slammed into me without warning. I shifted forward with the fierce thrust, then curled back against him, drawing him deeper. My fingertips dug into the edge of the mattress. I purred again.