Page 32 of Return to the Island

“I was too warm,” I replied, as his lips kissed my shoulder. “Need coffee?” I questioned with a giggle.

“Need you,” he said, and the length of him pressed into my backside. I moaned. “Are you sore?”

I rolled my head against his shoulder, and he shifted his body to crawl before me. On his knees, he walked backward in the water, taking my hands in his and tugging me toward him. Without a word, he led me deeper into the morning water, calm from a night at rest, and lightening in the dawn. When we were deep enough, he removed my bikini bottom, slung it over his shoulder and slowly entered me. My hands braced me on the sandy bottom, the weightlessness of the water lifting me along with his arm curled around my lower back. He moved deliberately, the ocean lapping over his back gently pushing him forward, filling me with a sluggish rhythm.

“Don’t want to wake without you,” he said softly, as if not to break the silence of the early morning hour. “Where did you go?”

I’d already told him I was too warm, but he read more into my exit from the bed.

“Lost in my head,” I said, my voice hitching as he swam forward, filling me.

“Don’t think,” he said, kissing me too briefly. “Not yet.” He stilled and the pulse of him inside me let me know he’d found what he needed this morning. He lowered my back and my bottom hit the sand. He reached between us and played with that sensitive place that needed attention. He pulled out of me, and sat back, spreading my knees. His free hand pushed at the water, forcing it to lap at my tender entrance while his fingers continued to toy with me. He watched where he touched me, his concentration on pleasing me.

I came softly, the feeling washing over me as the water licked at my core. As I settled, Tack returned to brace himself over me, his arms caging me in. My knees rose around his hips as his legs floated behind him, allowing the water to support him. He kissed me sweetly, sucking at my lips.

“Don’t leave me,” he muttered, and my heart pinched. There was nowhere I wanted to go.

19

Tack

There were moments I sensed her pulling back from me. In my desperation to keep us in the present, I found myself pushing her harder, faster, than I planned for us to go. Making her come on the boat. Entering her from behind. These weren’t things I had predicted would happen, but I found being on the island heightened my need for her, increasing my desire to keep her connected to me as much as possible.

I suggested we take a short hike after breakfast. I wanted to show her the tree house. Viewing it wasn’t meant to scare her, but I also wanted her to know how severe that storm had been, how close we were to losing each other more than we had.

She didn’t have her hiking boots, not knowing this was our destination so stomping through the jungle in her flip-flops was laborious. The paths we’d etched into the foliage with constant trekking from one dwelling to the other had long since disappeared, swallowed up by new growth. We hiked forward, occasionally wondering if we’d passed it or not gone far enough. Either way, we fell into our comfortable routine of walking with one another, taking an adventure as we crossed under the canopy overhead. Eventually, we broke through the trees into a space where the trunks stood sparsely apart. There we found what we were looking for.

One half of the hut still remained in the tree, surprisingly still intact, hugging the thick trunk like a koala cub. The other half lay as rubble, crumbled and broken on the jungle floor. Two years didn’t seem like enough time to pass, but the vines and the foliage covering it made the wreckage appear like it had been longer. I passed Juliet to near the heap. She remained a statue staring up at the broken structure.

“It was one of the best homes I had,” she said, her voice silencing the chattering of birds in the overhead leaves. “Growing up I had a decent home, small, but comfortable in Baltimore. When I moved in with my uncle, the filth of his trailer was the worst thing I’d experienced. When I went to college, I didn’t move into a dorm. I lived with Chellie. It was a dump, because it was all we could afford. I think a pimp lived on the floor below us.”

She shivered with the thought, and my blood froze at the idea.

“I own the building where The Mouse Trap is located. Bought it for cheap and finished an apartment on the second floor. In many ways, it replicates this space,” she nodded to the fallen tree house. “Miller says it’s like a jungle.” She laughed without humor.

“I’d like to see it.” The comment startled her and she looked at me as if she forgot I was with her. Her arms crossed in a protective manner around her mid-section.

“This tree house was one of the only homes I knew after I lost my family. Not a house, a home, like when my family was alive.”

A strange question came to mind.

“Do you want a family? Want kids?” I don’t know why I even asked, but she answered instantly.

“I do.” She looked away from me, her hands cupping her elbows. Her expression pinched, as if she were about to risk something and questioned the truth. “I thought I was pregnant when I came to see you.”

“What?” I growled, as my heart dropped. My fists clenched as I took two giant steps toward her. She shrugged as her eyes flipped up to mine.

“I hadn’t gotten my period. I thought, maybe…” She shrugged again as her voice faltered. “But it was a false alarm. My body hadn’t adjusted. I was no longer taking the medication they gave me to hold off my period.”

I reached out for her shoulders and tugged her to my chest. Holding her head pressed to my heart, I enveloped her, holding her as tight as I could.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. I’ll give you babies, I thought. I’ll give you everything you want. A house. A home. Just don’t ever leave me again.

She gently pushed off my chest after a few minutes and walked toward the tree, something catching her eye. She stepped forward and her hand came up to the thick trunk. Her finger traced over what was etched in the jungle bark. J M + T C.

She spun to face me. “How did I miss this?” Her mouth curled at the edges.

“I carved it after you left. I wanted the island to remember us.” It was my turn to shrug. I blew out a breath. “But now I want to make love to you against that tree as a big fuck you to this island. Fuck you for that tree house breaking.” My voice rose. “And fuck you, hurricane, for giving you to me and then taking you away from me.” I swiped hastily through my hair, wishing to pull at it. I was so pissed about the potential of her having my family without me. We weren’t finished here, I cursed at the broken tree house.