Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1065

Chapter 1065: Chapter 1065

The morning began with damp grass and sunlight dripping through the trees like melting gold. The air was warm, thick with the perfume of blooming vines curling along the tree trunks, and birds whispered lazy songs into the silence. The scent of firewood, freshly baked roots, and crushed berries drifted over the clearing where the women moved slowly, lingering in each other’s company, touch hanging between them like something sweet and unspoken. Rose stretched in front of the fire, her back arched deliberately, eyes half-lidded as she ran her fingers through her long, wild hair. Her tunic slipped off one shoulder, revealing a smooth line of skin and the curve of her breast as she reached for a fruit from the basket.

Jude, already shirtless and barefoot, walked out from the house with his usual ease, his eyes instantly locking onto her. Rose didn’t speak. She smiled. That same curve of her lips, that knowing gleam in her eyes, made his pulse quicken without reason. She bit into the fruit slowly, letting the juice roll down her fingers, and Jude stepped toward her like a moth drawn into the slow flicker of a dangerous flame. But before he reached her, Layla slipped between them.

Her body was already slick with riverwater from her morning swim, her tunic clinging to her curves and leaving nothing to the imagination. Her lips were glossy from biting into a piece of honeyed bark, and her eyes sparkled with something almost mischievous as she tilted her head and gave Jude a look that said she wasn’t in the mood to share. She slid her arm around Rose’s waist, pulled her in, and whispered something against her ear that made Rose giggle.

Then, without breaking eye contact with Jude, Layla kissed Rose full on the mouth.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was slow, burning, messy and deep, Rose’s hands locking behind Layla’s neck as she arched into her. Jude exhaled hard, his breath catching in his throat. It wasn’t jealousy that gripped him. It was hunger. Desire coiled tightly in his belly like a spring being wound just past its limit.

Behind him, Zoey froze mid-step. She had come from the forest path, holding a bundle of herbs and tender root vegetables. Her expression was neutral at first, even amused. But then it changed. She tilted her head slightly, narrowing her eyes as she watched Rose’s fingers curl into Layla’s hair with almost too much eagerness. It wasn’t that the intimacy was strange, it never had been. They had all grown used to touching, loving, indulging in one another. But something was...off.

She said nothing.

The morning rolled on with heat rising and laughter echoing. Rose seemed insatiable today. She brushed against Grace while collecting firewood, her fingertips skimming the back of her neck like a feather. She danced barefoot around Stella, laughing as she tugged her close by the hem of her skirt. When Emma knelt to fix a loose part of the cooking pit, Rose pressed a kiss to the small of her back and whispered something that made Emma blush crimson.

And Layla was just as electric.

Her touch had shifted. Slower, more drawn out. Not teasing for fun, but laced with an energy that made everyone she brushed against lean in without thinking. She sat close to Natalie, thighs touching, as they sorted through leaves, and let her hand rest a moment too long on Natalie’s inner knee. She pulled Sophie into her lap later by the water and pressed gentle kisses to her shoulder as if they’d always been lovers. No one pulled away. No one questioned it.

Except Zoey.

She had started watching them both now. Carefully. Silently.

They were too in sync. It wasn’t just physical anymore. Rose would tilt her head at the exact moment Layla did. They reached for the same fruit. Laughed the same way. Even sighed with the same rhythm. Zoey caught it while they sat near the house in the afternoon, sewing and fixing torn nets. The way Layla glanced up, caught Rose’s eye, and smiled that curved, too-wide smile. And Rose mirrored it, right down to the glint in her eye and the slight twitch at the corner of her lips.

Zoey’s stomach tightened.

She said nothing.

Instead, she smiled. She sat close when Rose invited her to, even let Rose rub oil into her shoulders. The fingers moved with practiced ease, but Zoey didn’t relax. She felt every movement too precisely, too intentionally. Rose leaned in, letting her breath tickle Zoey’s neck, and whispered, "You always carry tension here," before pressing her lips to Zoey’s skin in a kiss that burned.

It would have felt normal, even thrilling, a week ago. But Zoey’s eyes flicked sideways, and she saw Layla watching them from the edge of the house. Watching with that same smile. Not jealousy. Not admiration. Just watching.

Later, as the sun dipped below the trees and bathed the camp in soft pink and orange hues, the others had gathered for food and wine. Jude sat between Susan and Emma, laughing with Stella who tossed a berry at his head. Rose had her arm draped over Natalie, but her eyes flicked to Layla across the fire. Layla caught the glance and shifted so her leg was pressed flush against Grace’s. They were playing a game, and no one seemed to see it. Or maybe they just didn’t care.

Everyone felt good. Their touches more casual now, kisses freely shared, clothes looser than usual. The firelight played on sweat-damp skin. Laughter came easier. They seemed...happy.

But Zoey wasn’t laughing anymore.

She caught Rose and Layla exchanging another silent look and then turning away at the same time, as if rehearsed. She turned her attention to Jude. He hadn’t said anything either. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. Maybe he was caught in the haze, like the others. After all, Rose had sat in his lap earlier, and Layla had straddled his thighs behind the house with a wild hunger that made even Jude shiver. He hadn’t questioned it. But Zoey couldn’t forget the smile Layla wore when she leaned back afterward, naked, laughing breathlessly, the moonlight catching on her eyes, eyes that looked just a little too much like Rose’s.

When the others settled into beds, bodies tangled in twos and threes, Zoey stayed up. She sat at the edge of the house, feet tucked beneath her, staring into the trees. The wind rustled the leaves like whispers. She could hear faint sighs from the rooms, soft moans, laughter still dancing in the warm air. She closed her eyes.

And then she heard it.

A low giggle. Not from the rooms. From the trees.

She stood slowly, careful not to wake anyone. She moved through the clearing in silence, every step measured. The laughter came again, closer now. And this time, it was two voices, overlapping. Familiar. She slipped through the trees and saw them. Rose and Layla. Not touching, just...standing. Facing each other, eyes locked.

Then they began to mirror each other again.

A slow tilt of the head. A step forward. A reach of the hand.

It wasn’t seductive now. It was rehearsed.

Like a dance they’d done a hundred times.

Zoey’s heart pounded.

She stepped back before they could see her and slipped into the shadows, retreating silently, heart loud in her chest. She climbed the porch and settled back into the blankets, body trembling despite the heat. She looked across the room at where Layla now lay curled around Rose in one of the shared beds.

Zoey couldn’t sleep.

She stared at them in the darkness, breath held in her chest.

Something wasn’t right.

And she was going to find out what it was.