“Lie still,” she said. She went across the room, locked the door, and picked up a bottle of water, a basin, and a cloth. “No fair tickling me, because I will spill this all over you.” She straddled him and helped him pull the shirt off over his head. He collapsed back to the mattress and watched as she wet the cloth, then pressed it to his chest.

He twitched and yelped. “Cold!”

This time, she grinned. “Any doubts about reality now?”

“Not so much,” he said, but kept his gaze fastened on hers, wide and hungry, as she moved the washcloth over his skin, gliding it under his arms, down his sides. Over his stomach. “You’re not asking me to strip all the way, are you?”

“Maybe not yet,” she said. “My turn.”

She hadn’t had a chance to take off the stupid plastic jumpsuit, which was so not sexy; she reached for the zipper, but in one of those startlingly fast, strong moves that always took her breath away, he flipped her over so her back was against the mattress, and he was the one straddling her. He considered the zipper.

Then he took hold of the thin plastic and ripped it all the way down. She had on her bra underneath, but somehow it felt like she was naked to his eyes.

And … crazily hot.

“Oh,” she breathed, and shut her eyes as the cool air hit her skin. “So, this is getting a little on the adult channel side and that’s not exactly what I—”

“Shh,” he said, and pressed his lips to hers before he straightened again. “I’m working here.”

He reached out, as if in a dream, and the cool cloth touched her skin and glided damply over it. She shivered from both the delicious chill and the feel of his fingers following it, warming her up again. He turned her over and stripped the rest of the jumpsuit away, washed her back, skipping past her bra strap, then moving down the line of her spine, all the way down to the waistband of her jeans. Next, her arms—left, then right.

And then she turned to face him, and he looked into her eyes and put the washcloth on the floor.

“Not fair,” she said softly. “Stopping in the middle.”

He leaned forward and kissed her again—not as urgently this time, more sweetness, turning stronger and more passionate as he leaned into her. This time he was the one in charge. It took a sweet, breathless eternity for him to slide her jeans off, and reach for the clasp of her bra, and then …

Creepy organ music played, muffled by her fallen pants.

Her cell phone.

“No,” she moaned, and beat uselessly at the pillow. It wasn’t quite the worst possible moment, but it was close. Really, really close. “No, no, no!”

“You’d better answer it,” Shane said. He sank down on the other side of the bed, and his skin was lightly flushed and damp with sweat. His voice was half an octave lower than normal, and his pupils wide and dark, and she knew, knew it was unfair to him to do it …