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  She’d started to say something, but Jane had glanced back at Eric’s boat and stopped her with a raised hand and a sly laugh. “Don’t bother. He’s got the same expression on his face. Both of you got hit by the same bolt.”

  That was exactly how it felt, looking at him here in such close quarters—like she’d been hit by lightning. But it was the good kind, the kind that electrified her, charged her up, sent a thrill of desire through her veins. From the second she’d seen him, she’d wanted to taste him.

  “Yes,” she whispered. Another bolt of that energy rolled through her. It was the pleasant kind, though, not stressful like today’s adrenaline rush. This felt like the best date she’d ever had. Or had never had, actually.

  “Hmm?”

  “You can take a kiss. As payment.” Now she was the one to look at the stars—avoiding his eyes in case the whole thing had been a joke and this man who sent electricity through her veins wasn’t really interested.

  The noise he made—a little puff of disbelief—was flattering. He reached for her hand, but she followed some weird instinct and shifted closer—to get on his lap, maybe?—and took this immediately from kissing to something…bigger. There was a little intimidation in the air. Not in the way he spoke to her or handled her, but in the memory of what he could do.

  Not to me, though.

  No, with her, he used gentle hands, slow movements, barely touching her body as she straddled him, putting them face-to-face. A little too close too soon, but also so damned exciting.

  “Kiss me.” His whispered words puffed into the cool air between them. The way he said it—an order or a plea?—lit her up in places she hadn’t paid attention to in ages. Her breasts, her pelvis, her lips. She was excited already, without doing a thing. She could only imagine where this would lead.

  She took a long, slow breath and leaned in. Just the tip of her nose touched his, their mouths not quite meeting, his eyes big and dark in the night. He was nothing like the stone-cold killer she’d witnessed on that platform, but that didn’t stop a long, slow shiver from sliding through her.

  “You do it.” Who am I, challenging this big, bad wolf of a man?

  “Thought you owed me.”

  Each word brushed his lips to hers in a not-quite-kiss more sensual than anything she’d ever experienced.

  With a stuttering inhale, she tilted her head, just enough to put friction between their mouths. It sent shocks through her body. Half of her wanted to smash her face against his, but the other half loved this strange byplay.

  He could palm her bottom now, and she wouldn’t protest. But he didn’t. He hadn’t even put his hands on her body.

  How long can I drag this out? What if I…

  She shifted her weight infinitesimally, but it might as well have been an earthquake for the effect it had on him. The noise he made was a low animal groan. Not quite a growl, but close. As if in pain, as if just this…tiny…rub was more than he could handle.

  She did it again, and this time, the animal didn’t stay in its cage. His arms went tight around her; his body beneath her hardened… Oh. Oh, he was hard.

  “You want that kiss or not?” He sounded tense.

  “Yeah.” She was breathless, her heart fluttering like a caged bird in her chest. Or maybe she was the creature caught in a net and he the predator. That made more sense.

  He’d do it now, she was sure. He’d kiss her, hard, and show her exactly what wild animals did with their prey.

  But he didn’t. Not the way she expected, at least. He didn’t press his now-open mouth to hers or shove his tongue down her throat. Though she could feel something savage thrum through him as surely as her own frantic response, he didn’t act on it.

  Instead, he put one hand on her shoulder, the other on her waist, and pressed down. Firmly.

  A long, low oh emerged from her mouth, dragged out by this powerful man. As though she had no say about what her body did—her heart, her mouth. All of it was tied to whatever he’d do next. Breathless with anticipation, she waited, eyes open too wide, expectation shimmering across her nerve endings as shockingly as the fear just hours before. In fact, she suspected that fear was making all of this much, much bigger.

  He shifted, and she let out a sound like she’d never made in her life, waiting for that kiss. He, meanwhile, was a stone wall of silence. She wished there was more light so she could see his face.

  What next? What next? She didn’t dare budge for fear of waking him from whatever this was.

  Have I ever been this turned on?

  How on earth could this slow grind feel better than sex? This was untamed, fierce, needy, and pure in the strangest way. This was back to basics.

  Real.

  And she wanted more.

  ***

  Eric darted a quick glance toward the horizon, relieved to see that nothing approached. Then again, he wasn’t sure how much good he’d be if someone attacked them in that moment.

  Christ, how was he not on fire right now?

  He let his eyes roam over this woman, this fantasy who’d suddenly dropped in his lap.

  Her weight was perfect, her flesh warm. Right here, through two thin layers of fleece, he bathed in her glow.

  She leaned into him, so close, and he barely held back a long, low groan. This woman. Damn, this woman.

  He’d had a crush on her, but he’d never imagined he’d feel this thrill when he finally held her. That was it, right? Adrenaline from whatever the hell was going on out here.

  Their attraction couldn’t possibly be this extreme.

  But he’d take it. He’d take whatever she gave him.

  Speaking of which. “Your lips.”

  “Jesus, Eric. This is…” She circled her hips in a way that made him wild before meeting his eyes. Hers were glazed over. He could just picture how he must look. He felt absolutely shell-shocked.

  “Yeah” was all he managed, and then “Come here,” though that was almost impossible. How much closer could she get when she was already plastered to his lap, her body cradling his?

  She leaned in, put her elbows on his shoulders, slid her hands into his hair, and—still undulating like a siren—whispered, “Why haven’t we been doing this for the past two years?”

  He bit back a groan and shook his head. Couldn’t meet her eyes, since her body was so close and her face a little too high, but that just gave him a chance to take in the way she moved. The woman was sexy. Insanely sexy.

  He had a flashback to the first day he’d seen her. At least two years ago now. He’d been newly retired, his back messing with him, but also his mind, and after a few near-sleepless weeks, he’d finally headed out on the Daphne. He’d wound up at San Elias, expecting peace and quiet. No interruptions.

  She and a blond—no clue what her name was—had shown up in their wet suits, greeted him with wide California smiles, and continued on toward the rig, wind whipping in their hair.

  Fucking Charlie’s Angels, he remembered thinking. Latina Angel, Surfer Angel… Where was the fucking redhead?

  But his pulse had picked up at the way she’d watched him while the blond had chatted him up. Nothing overt or sexual, but curious. As if she’d wanted to figure him out. And then her smile…

  The next morning, when he’d gotten up, again at loose ends, he hadn’t even asked himself where he’d go for the day.

  All the memories flew off, replaced by this solid, very present dream woman who was showing him she was miraculously real as she kissed him on the temple, then lower, then lower still to his rough cheek, and across to his ear. Her breath sent tight little shivers from his ear down to the tips of his toes, hitting every inch in between.

  Unconsciously, he lifted his hips a little, and she replied by pressing down, her silent sigh music in his ear.

  “Can’t get enough of this. Of you.” He tightene
d his arms, pressed her chest to his, and ground their bodies together, letting himself imagine this without clothes. If she were bare against him, they’d be there in seconds. That amped him up, made him hard as a rock, and turned him ferocious—for her body, but also for her life. Nobody messed with this woman. Nobody.

  As if she knew what he was thinking, Zoe placed placating kisses along his hairline, down to his jaw, and then she stilled, her bottom lip caught by the top one, her eyes roving over his face.

  “You’re beautiful.” Her words shocked little embarrassed pulses from his body.

  “Never been called that before.” His voice was rougher than he’d ever heard it.

  “You are.” She dipped her chin, ran her lips over the other side of his face, then pulled back to gaze at him again. “You’re like a statue or something. Like an old-time actor.”

  “These are good things?”

  She smiled mysteriously. “I remember the first time I saw you.”

  He raised his brows.

  “You know what you reminded me of? A lion, sunning itself.”

  “Hmm?” Not much of a response, but it was the most intelligible thing he could force from his mouth.

  “You looked so lazy. Indolent. Slow and easygoing. Jane said you were cute or hot or something when we left you, and I remember thinking, What? That man is not cute. Not in a million freaking years. That man is dangerous.”

  “What do you think now?”

  “I think I’ve got a lion between my thighs.” She drew closer until their mouths touched, like that first kiss they’d never had. “And the last thing I wanna do is tame him.”

  He cupped her face, barely noticing how heavily they were both breathing. He leaned in to take her mouth…and stopped. This is a big deal. Don’t hurry it. Don’t mess it up.

  He’d had this feeling at the start of every mission he’d ever been on—high emotions, high stakes. And so he did what he’d always done when things were too big to comprehend: he slowed the hell down.

  He ate her up with his eyes, took in every detail from the spray of freckles dotting her cheeks to the tiny hole in her nose where a stud had once been, and down to lips that were plush and pert and, frankly, the stuff dreams were made of. Her eyes—a dark whiskey in direct sunlight—were now bottomless pools of brown. And damn if he didn’t want to dive right in.

  Breath stuttering, he finally gave in to his desire and put his mouth to hers.

  Don’t rush this. Take it easy.

  The tip of her nose was cold, but her lips were hot, with just the right amount of give. Christ, how many women had he kissed without noticing these little details? He’d always been quick, unemotional, pragmatic. With her, he couldn’t help but soak up every little move, each reaction.

  Her lips were warm and lush, and her breath came out in quick little bursts that mirrored his. He wanted to eat her.

  Maybe it was the two-year build-up to this kiss, but he didn’t think so. It felt like more—a perfect storm of chemistry, hormones, adrenaline, nerves. So much self-denial.

  He pulled away, pressed his back to the cool stone behind him to gather himself for just a second, and heard her swallow.

  “Again,” she whispered.

  He complied. Damn, this is good.

  Like every meal he’d ever eaten when he was starving. Like water on a dry throat.

  He sipped at her, consumed her slowly but more greedily than anything he could remember.

  It was long past time to stop, back off, do a quick check of their surroundings. For her safety, if nothing else. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

  Because now that he’d tasted her, they’d have to blow up the whole island to pull him away.

  ***

  Okay, so apparently Zoe had never been properly kissed before. Because this was nothing like any kiss she’d ever experienced.

  The way he took her mouth was mesmerizing and so…complete.

  The problem with slow and thorough, though, was that it turned her mind to sludge and put her body in charge.

  Her body wasn’t having any of this slow crap. It wanted to consume him. So when he deepened the kiss, she moaned and shifted, and possibly even bit him.

  In response, he angled his head and licked into her mouth. One of them hummed, the vibration morphing into shivers that turned her nipples to painful little pebbles. Another sound was shared between them—hers, she was almost sure, and his hands moved from her face to her bottom. Finally.

  He grasped her, hard, and shifted her weight on his body—used her for his pleasure. It was mind-blowing. She could almost come like this. If they didn’t have these pants on.

  The next long, slow pull at her mouth was almost torture. After a few seconds, he drew back and ran those ice-blue eyes over her face. “I want to touch you.”

  “Yeah.” Effective, clear use of the language, Zoe.

  His eyes flicked over her body, then back to her face before he lifted his hands to her shoulders. Something about the way his brows lowered made him look…angry? Anxious?

  He stroked down her arms to her elbows and then in, to her waist. Like the not-kissing from before, these seemingly innocuous touches were anything but. Beneath the thin, oversize shirt, her skin pebbled up into goose bumps, and suddenly—holy crap, right this second—she had to strip that layer off.

  Heartbeat pounding in her ears, breath whooshing in excitement, she reached down, grasped the hem of the shirt, and pulled up. As she threw back her head, her eyes landed on the star-scattered sky, enormous above them.

  For maybe one or two seconds, she couldn’t look down at him. In case this had been the wrong move. In case she’d gone too far, too soon.

  She’d just found the North Star when his tense, half-strangled exhale nipped that worry in the bud. It made a little puh on his lips and shook his chest.

  “Holy. Shit.”

  “This okay?”

  “I wanna… Fuck… Move your arms. Let me see you.”

  It was dark out here, except for the blue light of the moon and the bright dot of the platform behind her, but it appeared to be enough for him to see her by. And judging from the quickening of his breath and his slow, thorough perusal, he liked what he saw.

  This time, when he caressed her from shoulders to elbows, then landed on her waist, there was nothing to separate his rough, calloused hands from her pebbled skin. And good God, that contact was everything.

  His touch was a scrape of rough on soft, a slow, almost reverential taking in. As if he were tasting her. With his hands.

  She couldn’t help but arch forward, just the tiniest bit, which he had to see was like begging for him to put those rough palms on her breasts. He ignored it, of course, because the one thing she was learning about Eric Cooper was that he liked to take his time with these things.

  Important things, she thought, though she might just be flattering herself.

  He leaned his head back against the rock, reminding her for a few seconds of the hard ground beneath her knees, her still-damp hair, the smell of salt water and seagrass. But then those thick, capable thumbs swirled hot circles on either side of her navel, and it all faded away. Up! she wanted to scream. Higher!

  Instead, he blew her away by dipping one hand, faster than he’d done anything today besides saving her life, and swiping it over the crotch of her thermal pants. A shocked zing raced straight from there to her nipples and up to her mouth, where it emerged on a gasp.

  “Wet.”

  She huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “No kidding.”

  “Sexy.” He inhaled through his nose. “I can smell you from here.”

  Oh no. No no no no, don’t say things like that. She almost folded in on herself. It was all too personal to look him straight in the eye. But his hands were back at her middle, holding her up, showing her how slowly and calmly he could give
her pleasure. When they skimmed lightly up, just under her breasts, she knew she’d never meet another man who could hold her desire so easily in the palms of his hands.

  When she finally let her eyes travel back up and found him staring—not at her body, but at her face—another jolt went through her. So much absorption, utter concentration. It was devastating.

  She couldn’t pull her gaze from his, even when those hands finally glided up to cover her breasts. He’s reading me, she realized. He wants to know if I like this. If it’s okay.

  “Oh, please.” A fresh wave of need weighted her pelvis like an anchor, while everything else blew up with sensation. “Tighter.”

  He squeezed, gently. Just to be contrary, probably. But it stoked the craving, turned her into a needy mess, and made her forget everything else.

  Something about a rough man being gentle was an extreme aphrodisiac. He could kill me. But he won’t.

  Okay, that was crazy.

  But good.

  His fingers on her nipples sent a harmony of Ohs from their mouths. Had she ever been this out of control?

  With a weird Alice in Wonderland swirl, the day came back to her. All of it: the worry, the fear…the heart-pumping fear. And now this—half-naked on his lap in the cool island wind. She moved faster, bucked when he pinched her again, and then slowed when he worked a hand back down to her belly.

  His eyes on her asked permission, and, totally shameless now, she urged him on. “Yeah. Touch me. Oh, please touch me.”

  To his credit, the man didn’t need to be told more than once. And he may be slow, but somehow that measured, calm rhythm fed into that ruthless efficiency she’d witnessed earlier to create a combustible combination.

  The position was awkward, but he managed to work his hand into her pants, and…

  That was not a pretty moan.

  He smiled. “You like it?” He lifted his hips, pressed himself hard against her, and withdrew, eliciting another sound from her and a low, hungry hum from him.

  “I could get addicted to this.” She wondered if he was even aware he was talking. “So…needy. I mean, look at you.”