Unseen Messages(83)

“It’s not bullshit. I’m not avoiding you. I’ve just been...busy.”

I flinched, hating the way my voice wobbled and chest emptied into a cavernous ache.

Neither of us spoke for a moment.

He cleared his throat. “We need to talk.”

My heart swooped. “No, we don’t.”

“How about I make this easy for you?” He shifted, his splinted leg rustling in the sand.

Every day, he seemed slightly better. He hobbled now rather than hopped, but the injuries still hadn’t healed.

“For the first time, we have the camp to ourselves. We can be honest. No cryptic talk, no games. I need to speak to you, to clear whatever the hell is going on between us, because this—” He waved at the space between him and me “—is not working.”

I sighed heavily. My fingers clutched my notebook, dying to run away and ignore him. What could he do? Chase me?

Turning to face him, I kept the book behind my back. “Well, we’re alive, and it’s been five weeks, so something has to be working.”

“You know what I mean.”

I widened my eyes deliberately. “Truly, Galloway, I don’t know what you want from me. You said it perfectly the other day when you had your hand down my shorts.” I blushed when his mouth parted, and he licked his bottom lip. “You know I want you, but you’re right, I’m afraid of you. And fear should never be part of a relationship.”

“Wrong,” he growled. “It should have everything to do with it.”

“What?”

He watched me beneath hooded eyes. “You don't fear me, Estelle. You fear what I can make you feel. If you didn’t feel when I touched you, then there wouldn’t be anything between us. And there is something between us. Something that deserves to be explored.”

I hated that he was right. I hated that he could see right through me and didn’t give me anywhere to hide. I’d tried so hard to ignore him. I forced myself to forget the delicious sensation of his fingers inside me. I downplayed the epic release under his control. And I definitely didn’t let myself dream of stealing him into the forest and finishing what he started.

I wanted him.

So, so much.

But he was right. I was frightened. For reasons I still didn’t understand.

Galloway looked into the fire, granting me a brief reprieve from his gaze. “I don’t know anything about you, Estelle. You won’t talk about where you’re from or who you are. You won’t let me in. But this is our life now. We don’t know how long we’ll be here. And I’m sick to bloody death of lying in bed at night so damn hard from wanting you and not knowing where I stand.”

His English accent. His words. They dripped like morphine through my blood, blocking my concerns.

My temper hissed. “I don’t tell you stuff? What about you? Whenever I ask the simplest question you shut me down. Don’t be hypocritical, Galloway, it doesn’t suit you.”

I would never tell him I understood his pathological need for secrets. I wasn’t comfortable sharing pieces of myself, handing over my history, and willingly opening my world to another’s criticism. I respected his need for space because I demanded the same.

Besides, I already know more than he thinks.

“Hypocritical? You want to play that card?” He bared his teeth. “Fine. Let’s focus on who’s the true hypocrite, shall we?”

My mouth fell open. “You can’t mean me.”

“Got it in one.”

“How?”

His eyes narrowed. “You kissed me first, remember? You’re the one who started this.”

“That kiss was a mistake. We’d just crashed and were so thirsty we were a day away from dying. Excuse me if I gave into a spur-of-the-moment decision to have some happiness before I died.”

“And it was a bloody amazing kiss.” His hands tightened on his spear. “Do you deny it?”

I gritted my teeth. I wanted to deny it. If I did, it might put an end to this ludicrous conversation. But I’d never been a liar. I ran, yes. I hid, yes. I went out of my way to avoid a fight from anyone. But I’d never been a liar.

I hung my head. “It was good. That I can't deny.”

“And the other day, when I made you come. Didn’t that feel equally amazing?” The smugness in his tone irritated me.

My hackles rose. “Besides the point.”

“No, it’s the point. Answer the question. Did you or did you not like what I did to you?”

How dare he put me on the spot? What if Pippa and Conner could hear us?

“Galloway, stop—”

“No, I won’t stop. Not until you put me out of my goddamn misery.”

I breathed hard. “How?”

“Tell me the truth.”

“What truth?”

“Can I have you or not? Will you let me take you to bed? Will you give in to whatever links us and put us both out of pain, or will you be stubborn and continue to avoid me?”

Keeping my notebook a secret was forgotten as I brought the pages in front of me and hugged it. I squeezed it as if the answers Galloway demanded could be found in its lined papyrus. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you want me or not? Simple question. Simple answer.”