He looks at me for a long beat, his eyes narrowing like he’s reading every micro-expression on my face.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.
“Because you look… different. Relaxed. Almost happy. It’s weird.”
“The waterfall was relaxing,” I deadpan.
Ethan snorts. “Don’t lie to me, Reyes. I’ve known you too long.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You fucked her, didn’t you?”
I swallow hard, fighting the heat rising up my neck. “Ethan?—”
He bursts out laughing and wraps his arm around my shoulders, messing up my hair like we’re back in college. “You fucking did! I know it!”
“You’re an asshole, Cole,” I mutter, shoving him off me.
“Sienna’s been driving you crazy since day one,” he says, matter-of-factly. “About time you did something about it.”
Before I can respond, Aria’s voice cuts in from a few feet away. “Are you idiots coming or what?”
Ethan leans in closer, lowering his voice so only I can hear. “You certainly did last night, didn’t you?”
I punch him hard in the arm. “Fuck off.”
He laughs louder, rubbing his arm dramatically as he heads toward his ATV. I follow him, rolling my eyes as he makes a subtle comment to Sienna, who also tells him to fuck off.
I watch as she climbs onto the back of Aria’s ATV, shooting me one last look over her shoulder—a heated, loaded look that says we’re nowhere near done talking about last night. My stomach flips at the promise in her eyes.
As we ride back toward the resort, the jungle blurring past, I feel something deep inside me shift.
We survived the night.
We survived the kiss.
We survived the sex.
But returning to civilization feels strangely harder than being stranded.
Because nothing feels the same anymore.
Not when I know, with absolute, bone-deep certainty, that one week left on this island is nowhere near enough.
Not even close.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sienna
“Mission accomplished,”I announce, dropping the gift shop bag onto the coffee table with a dramatic thud as I flop onto the couch beside Milo. “I have single-handedly secured the most ridiculous outfit known to mankind.”
Milo looks at me with worry in his eyes. He’s got nothing on but those low-slung gray sweatpants he seems to wear only because he knows they taunt me. I do an appreciative sweep of his chest, my mouth running dry as I remember how his muscles tensed under my touch yesterday.
He clears his throat to get my attention. “I got your outfit earlier while you were napping. Should I go get it?”
I snap my gaze up to meet his. “Yes, immediately.”
