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He wasn’t strong enough for
that.

Instead he tried to distract himself
with her eyes. But the green jewels glittered up at him with a
mixture of anger and something … something else. Something that was
reserved for hoarse cries and straining hips. He didn’t like the
look in those eyes. Or rather he liked it too much.

He searched for safety in the stern
line of her mouth, but even as his gaze drifted over it, her lips
softened and parted in invitation.

He got lightheaded as more blood rushed
from his brain and to fill the length of his shaft in a blinding
surge. His belly tightened with it, the skin along his spine
convulsed in chills. He’d never felt a surge of lust so strong and
he prayed to God he never would again. Another like that, or
stronger, and he feared he’d black out.

Or worse his heart would give him up as
nothing but a rutting bastard and therefore not worth all the
effort it gave keeping him alive.

Almost against his will, no, completely
against his will since all brain functions had ceased, packed up,
and changed locations, his eyes dragged down her body. Along her
throat where her pulse beat against her skin like a bird trying to
escape from behind a porcelain prison. Lower still to the bodice of
that twice-damned black gown where her breasts rose and fell
rapidly.

She smelled sweet, she was panting and
squirming beneath him, and when he narrowed his eyes he saw the
hard little peaks of her nipples beneath the fabric.

His nostrils flared and in his pants
brain power returned to full, hungry, power.

With a growl he lowered his head and
captured that welcoming mouth. After all that fight he’d just seen
in her he expected the nip of her teeth and welcomed it. He
returned the favor. His own teeth punishing and nipping at the soft
lushness of her bottom lip and feeling her arch and tremble beneath
him with each taste.

He rewarded her by licking the sting
away before plunging into her mouth. Taking and thrusting, licking
along the insides of the sweet cavern until she moaned. He
swallowed the needy sounds she made and fed from her as if he were
starving until her tongue began to meet his own. She grew bolder,
her own passion growing stronger. They clashed and danced, teased
and offered, until they were straining against one another. She
sucked his tongue in her mouth in a rhythm that was age old and
instinctual and he thrust against her in blind response. She cried
out and he realized, belatedly that he could feel her even through
his britches. She was wet, so wet she soaked through the material
of his clothes to sear the head of his cock as it strained for her.
She thrust against him, desperate, wild and open. She was so soft,
and she tasted like the cool cream of milk and some unknown berry.
He wanted her. Wanted to fuck her, claim her, bite her until her
body was covered in proof of his ownership. Until she smelled of
him and dreamed of him and ached between her legs for
him.

But he didn’t just want her. He needed
her and he’d promised himself a long time ago never to need
anyone.

He jerked away from her, the skin of
his lip tearing from the assault of her canines as he disengaged
himself. She was rolling under him, undulating like a cat. Her hips
lifting and rolling in lazy sensual circles while she stared at him
with eyes gone blind with desire and a face gone slack with
pleasure. The glazed look on her face was almost enough to draw him
back but with a short, frustrated curse he pushed himself off her
and came to his feet, panting with the strength it had taken for
him to do such a simple thing.

It was hard, even harder than when he’d
had to leave her in the stables. Then his withdrawal had had mostly
to do with John, but now it went beyond that.

Now it was about protecting himself
because she’d gotten deep enough under his skin to cause
significant damage should she be taken away.

The awareness of that was
frightening.

But … but her thighs were still spread
for him, her back was still arched, breasts pushed forward for his
touch, and the dreamy look in her eyes, the lazy, satisfied smile
on her kiss swollen lips, were for him and him alone.

Damon doubted that any other man had
ever seen her like this and a fierce desire to make sure that no
one else but him ever did rocked him back on his heels.

He ran a hand through his hair, glad it
was no longer stiff with salt, and over his face. He tried to erase
the urge and the madness but he wasn’t sure how well it
worked.

Turning his back on her he said, “Fix
yourself. You’re no light-skirt so stop posing like
one.”

His words were deliberately harsh,
deliberately cruel, and he tried not to flinch when he heard her
gasp. He walked over towards the boulder as she began fumbling with
her clothes, her breathing harsh in the sudden silence.

Then, “I’m no light-skirt, Mr.
Burleigh, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t treat me like
one.”

There it was again. Mr.
Burleigh.

He was beginning to hate the sound of
his own last name.

He pulled on his shirt even as he
spoke.

“You could have fooled me, Princess.
Watching a grown man bathe and then writhing under him like a cat
in heat.” He’d had another word in mind but found he couldn’t say
it in reference to her. He was growing soft. He turned back to her,
relieved to see she was once again prim and proper, even though she
was flushed with embarrassment and anger. At least she wasn’t
looking at him as if she was starving and he was a feast meant just
for her.

Which had been his goal.

“Now see here, Mr. Burleigh. I did not
come here with the express purpose of spying on you. If you truly
believe otherwise then you’re even more conceited and delusional
than I first thought.”

Ouch.

“And another thing…,” here the color on
her face deepened and her eyes flickered. She licked her lips. “It
takes two to kiss like that. I wasn’t the only one writhing around
like a cat in heat.”

He tsked as if disappointed in her and
slowly, watching the way her eyes darkened in response, he lifted
the hem of his shirt with one hand and ran long sure fingers across
his still straining erection. He shuddered and watched her echo the
motion, her lips parting instinctively.

“I thought we established a long time
ago that I was anything but a gentleman, Darlin’.” It was alarming
how easy it was to fall into that molasses and cream rhythm of the
south when it wasn’t even his birthplace. He continued, “I’m no
saint either. So if I’m no gentleman and I’m no saint then what
does that leave?”

She bit her lip. “A-a man?”

He nodded, his eyes locked with hers,
desperate to make her understand. “Only a man. Flesh and blood. A
packaging that finds itself mighty hungry for you, Princess. I’m
weak and you’d be smart to be more careful with yourself in the
future.”

Meaning don’t look at him naked, stop
walking around with nipples as hard as pebbles, and when he lost
his mind and pushed himself on her, slap him rather than arch
against him.

This last would make a world of
difference because Damon was never so far gone that he’d force
himself on her if she pushed him away.

Just in case she didn’t know, he told
her. “When I come after you again--” Wait. That sounded bad. “If I
come after you again, all you have to do is tell me no. I’ll stop.
You know … if you can’t--if you can’t fight me off.” If he held her
hands over her head again is what he meant.

He grimaced and turned away. God did he
sound like a fool. Or an animal. Toss-up as to which
one.

“I’ll remember that, Damon.”

He found himself brightening almost
immediately. She was calling him by name again. Then he
scowled.

That proved it then.

Definitely a fool.

* * * *

After he collected some of the spring
water in the flask, he led Jocelyn back to camp. The silence
between them was tense but not awkward and Jocelyn was happy for
that. She hated when he withdrew and went all broody on her. She
liked his laughter and his teasing too much.

Another thing she was beginning to
like, even more than his smiles, were his kisses.

When he’d kissed her in the stable it
was if he’d needed to assuage a curiosity that had been dogging
him. As if he’d been wondering what her lips or tongue tasted like
and had simply needed to know. Today was different. Today he’d
known and he’d craved more of her. He’d fed from her mouth as if
she were the finest ambrosia and the feel of his excitement pushing
against her body had woken something up inside of her.

It was nothing like her dream. He was
harder and hotter than her imagination could have
conjured.

Larger too, thicker. Something she
could sink her claws and teeth into and hang on until he assuaged
her growing curiosity.

It had felt right to have him there
between her legs, as if that’s where she’d wanted him from the
start, as if it was where he belonged and no one else would be
acceptable. She supposed such feelings were improper, but she
didn’t care. If she ever got back to society the simple fact that
she’d been alone with Damon on the island would ruin her beyond
repair.

Jocelyn found that she no longer cared.
Ava was safe. She could feel it. And right then there was nothing
she could do for the estate. She knew that Charles was taking
perfect care of it in her absence so there was no cause for
concern. So until she got back home and thought about her future,
because she was beginning to question what she wanted to do and
what she felt she had to do, she was free to indulge in a little …
fun.

Because that’s what it would be if it
was with Damon. Fun, and exciting and breath taking. She wanted to
explore this strangeness he made her feel, she wanted to explore
him. After that little speech back at the pool she knew she could
trust him not to hurt her or go too far, though the thought that he
would ever force himself on her had never even entered her mind.
She’d nearly laughed when he’d brought it up the very idea of
saying ‘no’ to him or fighting his touch being such a ludicrous
one.

She wanted him, still wanted him, and
she would make no secret of it nor pretend otherwise. Once she got
past whatever barrier he kept erecting between them she would have
him.

It was a blessing that he had his back
to her so he couldn’t see her smile. She didn’t think he’d get the
joke.

* * * *

Once back at camp Damon spoiled her. He
sat her down on a makeshift cushion he’d made out of his jacket.
Jocelyn supposed he was making up for his behavior by the pool
despite his earlier assurances that it was all her fault. She liked
that, and for the next hour watched him cut down leaves and
branches with a small dagger he pulled from his boot. When her
stomach growled he tossed her some fruit from the small pile they
had sitting by the fire. He worked tirelessly. Using the knife to
strip bark and unneeded twigs from the small branches until they
were smooth. Then he’d lash them together and weave the stalks of
palm fronds through the space. It was a very soft creation, very
supple and light but all the same it was tiresome work what with
the heat and trekking back and forth through the sand. Sweat soaked
his skin and plastered his clothes to his body and often enough she
found her gaze drawn to him. The view of his muscled back kept her
entertained for a good long while before she became bored. She
wanted to ask him about the marks but decided it was too soon after
what had happened and could wait. What she really wanted, what she
needed, was to explore. To move and search around. The island was
hers and she wanted to claim the treasures it hid.

She felt like a pirate, or an explorer,
and before she knew what she was doing she’d grabbed another piece
of fruit and gotten to her feet.

Damon straightened immediately, as if
he’d sensed her departure even with his back to her.

He looked over his shoulder, saw she
was standing and scowled.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m bored. I want to look
around.”

He eyed her a long moment before
sighing. Then he picked up his dagger and tossed it to
her.

“Fine. Just be careful and if you’re
gone more than a few hours I’m coming after you.”

Pleasure, pure and simple, engulfed
her. It felt good to know that he trusted her with his blade, that
he believed her capable and strong enough to handle herself. He
might not say it but he respected her and she tingled all over with
the pride his esteem suffused her with.

She nodded and hurried away before she
could launch herself on him and kiss him again. She walked along
the beach, picking up shells only to discard them again. Gathering
sticks and fruit as she went and taking them back to camp so Damon
wouldn’t worry over her absence too much. Several trips later she
was traveling even further out until she came up on a grouping of
rocks. It was hard to climb over them; the stones hurt her toes
through her shoes and scraped her hands. Her persistence paid off
when she found the small grooves in the rocks and used them for
toeholds.