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... Hell... 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 stopped at 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 thing she was learning about Eric Cooper was that he liked to take his time.

With important things, at least, 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 a 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 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 the 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."

Did he expect her to respond? Impossible.

"This works for you?" Oh, so he was talking now? Because that would surely throw her over the limit. "You like my hand on you like this?"

"Yeah" was apparently all she could say. But he seemed to like it.

"'Cause I could do this all day. This." He pinched her nipple purposefully and, after a few more slow turns of his thumb, asked, "What else do you need?"

"This."

"Just this or..." He lifted his hips, pressing his hard length against her, and everything pulled in tight.

"Oh, no, I'm going to... I'm going to, Eric."

"Yeah." He moved faster, getting friction going between them. So close to penetration, she could almost feel it.

And then he lifted her breast to his mouth, sucked it hard while his thumb went into overdrive, and everything came together...

For a good five or six seconds, she wondered if something had exploded nearby—fireworks, or maybe the rig had blown. Color blasted at the edges of her vision, and every muscle contracted, arching her back, forcing her against him, catching his hand in that tight space between their bodies. When the initial rush started to ebb, he gave her another flick, and the surge was as instantaneous as pain but twice as hot.

By the time she came down from the most singularly spectacular orgasm of her life, Zoe Garcia was halfway in love.

For the first time since this thing had started, the cool air was less than comfortable, as was the ground beneath her knees. She shook her head, blinked a few times, and took a deep, satisfied breath before meeting his eyes.

"So, that kiss," he said with a satisfied half-smile. "In exchange for me saving your life?"

She blinked for a few seconds before getting what he was saying. "Um. Yeah."

He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at her. "Would you say we're about even now?"

Something warm and sweet rolled up through her, and she couldn't stop herself from grinning. "Not even close."