Juliet

When we’re finally out of the hospital, I’m glad to see no reporters waiting for us. Apparently, they lost interest after I refused to answer their questions, and Lock wasn’t available either.

And luckily, none of them followed me to my house.

Nothing can wipe the grin off my face as soon as I’m back home. I immediately cuddle everything in sight; my couch, my table, my walls. Even my dead plants.

I honestly don’t care; I’m that happy to be back home.

Except, the moment Lock walks in, all of that seems to vanish into thin air.

He’s broody, and he throws himself down in a chair and glares. He had a rough time. I literally had to drag him onto the airplane; he wouldn’t have come along if I didn’t. I even had to strap him to his chair and promise the flight would be over soon. He didn’t let go of my hand the entire time, and his pulse was racing.

It made my heart ache for him.

“Want me to make some tea?” I ask, trying to cheer him up. He loved it when we were still in the hospital, but now it doesn’t even make him look up. He just nods.

I rub my lips together and go into the kitchen, smelling all the herbs and food that’s in there like tea, honey, and a half-eaten bag of chips. I don’t even care if half of it has gone stale. I’m savoring the scents. I can’t wait to buy more and dig in again. God, how long has it been since I cooked a proper meal? Too long. I should make us something tonight, but what?

“Hey, have you ever had spaghetti before?”

“What?” He frowns when he looks at me.

“It’s long and you can slurp it, and it tastes like tomatoes and herbs.”

He shakes his head, shrugging, his brows raised. Guess not.

I smile. “It’s delicious. I’ll make it tonight.”

“Great.” He gets up from the chair and starts touching the television with his hands, feeling the whole thing.

“The remote is in the drawer,” I say, pointing at it.

He immediately goes for it and uses it to switch through all the channels until he finds the one we watched when we were at the hospital … animal documentaries only.

I sigh, watching him stare wistfully at it. I don’t know what to do at this point. It seems as though the farther we get away from the island, the unhappier he becomes.

There must be something I can do.

Biting my lip, I approach him from behind and wrap my arms around him. “Hey there, handsome.”

He smiles gently as I kiss him from above, my boobs firmly pressed against his head. He moans into my mouth and kisses me harder, taking my mouth. Suddenly, he drags me over the couch, making me squeal. I end up in his lap, held down in his arms, while he showers me with kisses.

I’ve never felt better in my life.

Is it abnormal to love a man who kept you a prisoner on an island?

Maybe … but I don’t like normal anyway.

He caresses my cheeks and murmurs, “You know that only tempts me to do dirty things to you.”

Grinning, I raise a brow and ask, “Like what?”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips as his hand moves down his body to the pants I bought him. He unzips himself and takes out his cock. It’s already hard. As he pushes me closer, I acquiesce and take it into my mouth.

His head falls back onto the couch as I start to lick him, eager to get him off. I want him to stop thinking. Stop everything and focus on me. I’m here … isn’t that enough?

His pre-cum makes my pussy thump, and I suck even harder to taste him. He groans and grabs a fistful of my hair, pushing me farther down until I gag. God, I love it when he does that.

He quickly pulls me back up again and rubs my ass with his free hand. A sudden soft spank has me jolting up.

“Fuck, I love your tongue wrapped around my dick,” he groans.

He shoves down my pants until they’re below my ass, and then he slides his hand inside. His fingers brush my clit and circle around it, making me wet and even hornier than I already was. And I continue sucking his dick until his veins pop and he’s about to burst.

But he quickly removes his fingers and pushes me away. Then he grabs me by the waist and slings me over his shoulder as he gets up from the couch. I squeal.

“Bed?” he growls.

“Upstairs.”

He marches into the hallway and up the stairs, opening every door until he finds the one he is looking for, the one with the king-size bed … and the huge panda in the corner.

I have a secret thing for pandas, and I never tell a soul about it.

I would’ve tucked it away before he came here, but it’s too late now. Oops.

He briefly glances at it and shrugs when I grin like a crazy woman. Then he throws me onto the bed and crawls on top of me, ripping my clothes off as if they’re paper to him.

“All these clothes are in the way,” he growls, visibly annoyed even though it only takes him seconds to throw it all into a corner of the room.

He quickly dives back down and parts my legs, burying his face between them. I gasp and bite my lip when he goes down on me, his tongue expertly licking all my nooks and crannies in a way that makes me moan with delight.

I love the way he can work his mouth to give me all the pleasure in the world. It’s like he craves it, enjoys it, loves to hear me purr.

He laps me so good, my whole body begins to shake and hum, and I grasp the sheets tight. When I come, I clamp my legs together and call out. “Fuck!”

He grins and presses soft kisses and licks my clit until the orgasm is over. Then he rises, and I struggle to breathe when he comes down on top of me and pulls my leg up beside him.

“Fuck, Jules … You’re my undoing … But I fucking love it.”

He plunges into me without holding back, making me gasp.

“Yes!” I moan as he fucks me hard and fast.

I feel dirty. Bad. But I love everything about it.

I love everything about him.

And I love how he’s filling me up right now with every inch of his being.

We’re both high on lust and need, our bodies dripping with sweat and desire. He looks me in the eye as he makes sweet, filthy love to me, and I take it all. I don’t want him to hold back. This is what we both need, what we crave.

We fuck until we’re both out of air and come undone together, wetness and cum spilling everywhere, moans echoing through the space. Spent, he rolls onto the mattress and lies down next to me, breathing out loud.

I stare at the ceiling as the heat rushes through my body.

I can’t ever get enough of him.

“What are you thinking about?” he suddenly asks.

I turn my head and smile at him. “You.”

He smiles back and leans in to press a kiss to my forehead, and we curl up together.

But even as I lay here with him by my side, I can’t help but feel melancholic. I know his love for me is practically infinite, but at what cost?

“Do you miss the island?” The question blurts out of me.

He nods but remains silent. It’s enough for me. I don’t need words. I’ve seen it in his behavior, in his emotions, everything. He’s not really here.

And I’m beginning to understand that no matter what I do, nothing will change the way he feels about the world beyond the island. Even if he does his best, he might still not be happy here.

And I don’t want to force him to stay just because of me.

I hold him tight and whisper in his ear, “You should go back.”

“What?” he mutters.

“To the island.”

He looks up at me, frowning. “Why?”

“I don’t want you to be unhappy,” I say, taking a deep breath.

“I am happy. I have you,” he says, holding me even tighter as if he’s afraid I’ll leave him.

Tears well up in my eyes. “Don’t lie.”

He lets out a big breath.

Yes, I used his words against him. But sometimes we have to hear what we don’t want to hear. Listen to our mind instead of our heart.

We both sigh. No more words are needed to describe our situation.

I love him, and he loves me, but sometimes we need more than love to survive.

We both knew it was coming.

The truth.

He doesn’t belong here.