Her cries muffled, Chloe exploded. Helplessly, wantonly, lost, one of his big hands on her breasts, the other between her legs, she had a complete meltdown, shuddering against him, clamping her legs tight around his hand.

He took her cries with his tongue deep in her mouth, muting her, but for a tiny whimpering noise.

The pleasure was devastating, it crested and broke into a thousand shimmering pieces inside her. Her whole body shuddered and—had she been able to make a noise—she might well have done what she feared, and screamed.

But he took all that sound, his hot tongue devouring, thrusting deep, stealing her breath. He knew exactly how to touch her to keep the pleasure coming, his hand relentless between her legs, not letting up for a second and, as her first orgasm started to ease, it sort of stuttered and became a second one that sent her right back into a meltdown.

He kissed her while the aftershocks trembled through her, demanding kisses at first, tapering to soft, slow kisses as her tremors eased. She clung to him, unable to move. And though she’d just had a simply stupendous double climax, she ached, hot and wet. She’d been sated and yet—in no way sated—perhaps only finally, fully awakened.

Irrevocably awakened.

Oh, God, what have I done? He’s addictive!

They stayed like that for a long moment, forehead to forehead, both breathing unevenly. Then, with a lingering caress, he withdrew his hand.

He was motionless a few moments, then she heard a sharp intake of breath and a pained groan when he reached down and adjusted himself.

She fisted her hands and squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to think about that part of him he’d just touched. That part she’d caught a glimpse of when he’d dropped his towel, just enough to feed her insatiable curiosity.

No wonder Katherine had said she was dying without him.

There was no way she could let such a thing happen again. If she permitted even one more kiss today, she’d be in his bed. He was too sexy; she was already far too infatuated with him, and once in his bed, her defenses would come crashing down and she’d lose herself.

Why not just toss your heart out the airplane window, Zanders? a small inner voice snapped. You’d have about as much promise of a safe landing.

Dageus MacKeltar was more man than she could handle. She was a little-leaguer, clutching a ratty, secondhand mitt, trying to play ball with the pros. Just one good ground ball would knock her on her ass. And the game would move on without her.

Neither of them said a word, just sat in the dim shadows of the plane, trying to regain control.

Chloe was suddenly afraid that she might never get it back around him.