He stopped in the center of the clearing his ship had created. While the bike hovered, he turned to look at her.

“Want me to go down?”

“No. Up.” She laughed and tossed her head back. She had already felt the pull of the sky.

He was grinning when he leaned back to kiss her. “How high?”

“What’s the limit?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think we ought to chance it. If we go up above the trees, somebody might spot us.”

He was right, of course. Libby pushed her hair out of her face, wondering why she seemed to have so little sense when she was around him. “To the tree-tops, then. Just once.”

Delighted with her, he turned around. He felt her arms hook firmly around him, and then they were flying again.

He’d never forget. However many times he had taken to sky and space, however many times he would yet take to them, he would never forget this one playful flight with Libby. She was laughing, and the sound of it caressed his ear as her body pressed companionably against his. Her fingers were linked loosely at his waist. His only regret was that he couldn’t watch her face as they rose up and up. Making love with her was like this, as clean and clear as cutting through the air. As mystifying and seductive as defying gravity.

He resisted the temptation to crest the trees, contenting himself, and her, with gliding around the thick branches at a hundred feet. Below they could see a thin stream that cut through the rock, and a waterfall, driven by the spring rain and the snowmelt that danced down the ridge and fell into space. The sun pushed through the clouds so that they could watch the pattern of shadows shift on the ground below.

For a moment they both turned their faces to the sky and wished.

He slowed for their descent, and they seemed to drift downward, weightless, soundless. Libby felt her hair lift off her neck, teased by the air currents. She thought pleasantly of Peter Pan and fairy dust before they touched down lightly beside the ship.

“Okay?”

When he turned to look over his shoulder, Libby noticed that the faint hum had stopped. The chill had vanished. “It was wonderful. I could have stayed up all day.”

“Flying’s habit-forming.” No one knew that better than he. He swung off, then took her hand. “I’m glad you liked it.”