As soon as his lips were on hers, she was moving closer to him anyway, her other arm sliding around to his back to hold him near her. She couldn't have asked for a better sort of comfort. Just then, in that moment, however brief it could have been, it didn't have to matter that she'd walked miles in the pouring rain, or that Marissa was there. What was important were his hands on her, the way their mouths met, the warmth that came from any physical contact when she'd been otherwise so cold. She might not have been saying it before, but this was what she'd wanted, anyway. After months of discontent on the island, she was never so at ease as she was in his arms.

Her eyelids fluttered briefly closed, and as much as she might've wanted to say anything, had any words come to mind, she didn't have it in her to pull away right then. She'd leave that up to him, whenever he decided to.