Time seemed to hang suspended for a moment as his hand stalled in her hair, and then he pulled her gently forward. Lark came willingly, knowing that this was what she'd wanted since last night. This time he didn't kiss her cheek.

The kiss was softer than she expected—almost shy and tentative, but incredibly warm and unbelievably erotic. She had never been kissed like this before.

And in a corner of her mind she knew, without question, that she had more experience in kissing than Stone Rhodes did. But somehow that didn't matter. This kiss was not about recreational sex, or passing the time, or having fun.

No, Stone Rhodes was not a guy like that. And when he decided to kiss someone, he moved in like a marine, with clear intent. His kiss was deliberate, as if he'd been thinking about it for some time.

But there was nothing deliberate about the groan that escaped him when she deepened the kiss. There was nothing planned about the way his hand pressed the back of her head, or the way her own palm found the side of his face and explored the texture of his beard.

And it wasn't surprising that, by the time they managed to pull away from each other, the inside windows of the cruiser had gone all steamy.

They stared at each other for a moment, but neither of them was ready to discuss what had just happened. One thing was certain, though: If Stone Rhodes wanted to keep her safe, even from phantoms, she was going to let him.

Hadn't she been fantasizing about a man like this since she was seven?