Chapter 7
1372 Words
The next morning, I slowly regained consciousness to the soothing sound of waves and a faint scent of incense. A warm, soft body pressed against me, and I recognized it as Florence, the company president.
Her cool face was close to mine, her arms wrapped tightly around me, her body nestled against me like a small cat seeking warmth.
As I shifted slightly, Florence instinctively held me even tighter in her sleep. Glancing out of the tent toward the beach, I felt the morning sun shining down, free from the threat of wild wolves, and it brought a sense of comfort.
Just then, Florence murmured in her sleep, perhaps stirred by my movement. "Ah—wolf! There's a wolf! Help!" she cried out, her eyes snapping open in alarm.
As her vision cleared, she met my concerned gaze.
Remembering the events of the past few days, Florence clung to me, finding solace in my strong chest.
I lowered my head, observing her slightly haggard face and the delicate skin pressed against my chest.
The heiress of the Blackwell Group had likely never faced such danger in her life.
Gently, I patted Florence's shoulder and reassured her, "Don't worry. I've killed the wolf. You had a high fever yesterday, so I brought you back here to rest. Does your head hurt?"
Still drowsy from sleep, Florence rubbed her head against my chest after hearing my explanation. Her voice was soft as she replied, "I feel okay. I didn't know you were so capable, able to kill a wolf."
Was this really the sharp-tongued, ruthless heiress of the Blackwell Group? She felt more like a kitten nestled in my arms.
Perhaps due to our recent closeness, or maybe because of the tearful look in her eyes, I instinctively pulled this powerful businesswoman closer, gently stroking her forehead. "I had extensive wilderness training during my time in the army. Don't worry, we'll survive on this island until rescue arrives. I'll set some traps around us to keep us safe from any wolves."
Though the crude tent was a far cry from a five-star presidential suite, and I lacked a tailored suit or an expensive watch, in Florence's eyes, I was her hero.
Perhaps because she wasn't used to being this close to a man, Florence blushed as she gently pushed his finger away from her forehead. "Silly, I didn't permit you to hug me so tightly! And why are you sleeping with a stick? Were you on watch all night?"
As she spoke, she instinctively reached for her waist. Since waking up, something hard had been pressing against her, causing discomfort.
I immediately noticed her movement and tensed.
Any healthy man would have reacted the same way.
I grabbed her hand to stop her, blurting out, "That's my stick! Don't touch it!" My voice was flustered, my ears turning red.
Like a curious kitten, Florence's interest only grew after being stopped. She wriggled, determined to investigate further.
Her perfect curves pressed against me—her full breasts, encased in black lace, and her shapely hips brushing against my body. I felt a surge of heat rise within me, my self-control slipping.
"Florence, stop," I said, my voice strained as I struggled to restrain her. But the more I resisted, the more playful and determined she became.
Finally, I grabbed her hands and held them firmly. My breathing was heavy as I warned her, "Stop it, Florence. I can't promise I'll be able to control myself."
She froze for a moment, her eyes locking with mine. Then, with a mischievous smile, she challenged me, "What do you mean by that? Show me."
I stared at Florence's beautiful face, her exposed collarbone, and the ample curves of her breasts framed by a black lace bra. The sight only made the tension in my pants worse.
Driven by hormones, I couldn't hold back any longer. I leaned forward and kissed her, my hands instinctively exploring her body.
This was Florence's first conscious kiss with a man, and she froze in my arms, reacting like a timid, helpless rabbit, unsure of what to do.
Then, voices suddenly broke the silence outside the tent. "There's a dead wolf here! I thought it was some animal sunbathing."
"Cecilia, look! There are footprints too! We might be rescued!"
Florence immediately pushed me away, her cheeks flushed. "Arthur, listen! Do you hear that? There are voices outside!"
Not far from the tent, two tall women were standing over the wolf carcass, marveling at its crude butchery.
Jennifer Scott, noticing the footprints and the tent nearby, looked surprised. 'Did someone set up camp on this island?'
As she started toward the tent to investigate, I stepped out.
Axe in hand, I emerged from the tent and saw the two women talking. Both were tall and strikingly attractive. One of them, whose blouse buttons strained against her full figure, wore flesh-toned stockings that shimmered in the sunlight.
I recognized them immediately.
The busty woman was Jennifer Scott, my team leader at work. Five years my senior, she had mentored me often, leaning over my desk to explain things, giving me an unobstructed view of her generous cleavage, which her business attire always struggled to contain.
The other woman, dressed in a more conservative business suit, was Florence's secretary, Cecilia James. I'd only ever seen her from a distance before.
After confirming their identities and ensuring the area was safe, I raised my left hand in greeting. "Good morning! Thank God I found you on this deserted island! We're saved!"
Jennifer, just as surprised as I was, waved back.
After the storm and being stranded here with no cell service, seeing a familiar face felt like a miracle.
When she learned I was responsible for the tent and the dead wolf, her eyes widened in admiration. "Arthur, I knew you'd survive! You're so resourceful! You built a tent and even hunted this fierce animal!"
Curious about how Jennifer and Cecilia had managed to survive, I asked them.
Jennifer explained that they had found a stream and, after considerable effort, managed to catch a few fish. They had been living off those and the snacks they had in their pockets.
'A stream with fish?' This was incredible news. It meant we wouldn't have to worry about fresh water or food anymore!
Florence straightened her clothes inside the tent and, after making sure it was safe outside, stepped out.
Jennifer was talking with me about their recent ordeal, but when she saw her boss appear, her eyes widened in surprise.
Cecilia, however, looked even more shocked.
The moment Florence emerged, Cecilia strode over, threw her arms around her, and hugged her tightly.
The joy of their reunion lifted all of our spirits as we sat around the campfire outside the tent, sharing stories about our harrowing experiences.
After we had rested for a while, I stood up and said, "The weather's good right now. You all stay here by the fire, warm up, and eat some berries. I'll go process the wolf carcass and make breakfast for you to celebrate our survival."
Florence, still recovering and having grown to trust my abilities after everything we'd been through, simply smiled and nodded from her spot by the fire, watching me walk away.
As I headed toward the wolf carcass, Jennifer stood up. "I'll go help him," she said. "Miss Blackwell, you and Ms. James rest up."
I had planned to move the carcass to a flat rock, but Jennifer joined me anyway.
As I worked, my gaze unintentionally drifted to her chest.
Her blouse was slightly open, revealing a deep cleavage that was hard to ignore.
Just as my thoughts began to wander, I heard her teasing voice beside me. "Arthur, enjoying the view?"
I froze, caught off guard. Jennifer had teased me like this at work before, but in this situation, it felt different. I just couldn't resist such an alluring sight.
My face grew warm, and I blushed slightly, but Jennifer just laughed, her tone light and playful, like a kind older sister.
"I'm just teasing you, don't worry," she said with a smile. "Our meeting after the disaster is the greatest gift God has given us."
- Writer
