Page 35 of Turn the Tide
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. Ofyou.” He tightened 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 herlife.Nobodymessed 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 isdangerous.”
“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.
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