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She made her choice.
Now she stays.
I’m tired of playing games. Tired of her wanting to stay, then leaving, then staying.
What reason could she have for being so indecisive?
Unless, I’m not the only one feeling … things.
And the more time I spend with her, the more I’m eager to find out. But that headstrong attitude of hers sure makes things complicated.
“T-thank you …” she mutters, sucking on her bottom lip.
I can’t help but focus on how wet her lips are. Hot damn.
“For not putting me in the pit, I mean,” she adds, clearing her throat as she tries to jerk her arm free. But I’m not letting go. “Can I have my hand back now?”
I shake my head. “You’re coming with me.”
“What? Where?” she mutters as I pull her along through the jungle.
“Home,” I reply.
“You don’t have to hold my hand, you know. I can walk,” she says, sounding all vexed by the fact I’m taking back what’s mine.
I don’t fucking care if she wants to light a fire or not.
She had a shot to do whatever the fuck she pleases … and now it’s my turn.
I stampede back to the hut and throw everything aside, slamming open the door and pushing her inside.
She stumbles back against the table, her hands reaching for anything she can use to fight me, but that’s not going to work. I don’t leave sharp objects behind. I’m not that stupid. Especially not when it comes to a woman as volatile as she is.
“What are you doing?” she asks, reaching for one of the bowls. Interesting choice of weapon.
Frowning, I approach her, but she holds up one of the wooden bowls I made as if she’s going to throw it at me. “Don’t.”
“What are you going to do with that?” I ask, taking another step. “Hit me?”
She nods, hissing. “I’ll do it.”
As I stand before her, I grab her wrist. “No, you won’t.”
I slowly lower it.
She doesn’t even fight back.
Her breath hitches in her throat as I lean down and whisper, “See?”
She purses her lips, trying to hide the blush on her cheeks by hissing, “Because you’re holding me.”
“Am I?” I release her wrist and cock my head.
“You’ve been holding me in this hut ever since I came here. Like a prisoner.”
“I gave you a chance to light your fire.”
“Yeah, after you threw water over it and ruined it,” she scoffs.
“And you still followed me back …” A smirk spreads across my lips.
“So? Where else was I supposed to go?” she asks.
“Anywhere but here, right?” I say, raising a brow.
She narrows her eyes and looks away, breathing out a sigh.
So I lean over and whisper in her ear, “Lie.”
Then I turn and walk back to my kitchen area.
Accompanying Song: “Touch” by Marz Léon
Juliet
For a second there, I almost forget how to breathe.
Not because I was scared of him … but because of my own feelings.
The way he approached me and towered over me was intimidating, but in a totally different way. Not threatening in a violent way … threatening to my integrity. My morals. My heart.
He was so close to my face, I could feel his breath on my skin.
And deep down, I was desperately hoping he would kiss me … right there … beneath my ear.
I shouldn’t let this affect me, yet it does. I’m his prisoner.
I’m not supposed to be pining for him, yet I am.
And he knows it.
Shit.
I could see it in his eyes, in the way he looked at me. His reflect that same hunger.
Maybe that’s why I’m scared. Scared of what might happen if I let go.
I can barely turn around and face him as he’s cleaning some of the bowls that we used in the kitchen area.
Why did he just walk away like that? Was it to taunt me? Get me to speak up? Admit what I’m feeling?
No, I refuse to.
He’s playing with my heart, and I don’t like being played with. Especially not when it comes to what happened to me on this island.
I’m not some girl he can use for fun and then discard. It happened before with other guys who only wanted me for my body and nothing more. They hurt me … and he will too. I just know it, and I won’t allow it.
He’s pushing my buttons to see if I’ll run, so it’ll be easier for him to lock me up again. He’s trying to make me give him a reason to tie me up and throw me in the pit.
Well, I won’t give it to him. Not if I can help it.
He turns around to face me, and I clutch the table to get a hold of myself so he won’t try to seduce me again. He throws me a look and then points at the bed.
“Sit down,” he says.
I don’t reply. Instead, I stare at him the same way he is staring at me.
