When his dark gaze fixed on her breasts, her nipples puckered into hard peaks and her breasts felt swollen and heavy. God, the man was intoxicating! Even his gaze was potent, making her skin sizzle, making her frantic for more. The mere thought of his hot, wet mouth greedy on her nipples made her weak with desire.

With a glance so rife with sexual promise that it took her breath away, he tugged the blanket from her waist, back up to her neck. Then he slipped his hands beneath the blanket, and Chloe’s head dropped limply back against the window, her eyes fluttering closed.

She should stop him. And she would. Soon. Really soon.

“Open your eyes, lass. I want to see you watching me when I touch you.” A soft command, but command nonetheless.

Her lids lifted languorously. She felt as if he was sucking the will out of her with his touch, leaving her limp and utterly vulnerable to his demands.

He slipped his hands beneath her sweater, impatiently unhooked her bra, and bared her breasts, palming them roughly. Oh, yes, she thought. This was what she’d been wanting since the moment she’d seen him. To be naked with him, to feel his hot, big hands branding her bare skin. She was melting into a puddle of soft, feminine heat in the hands of a master, and she couldn’t gather the will to care. He cupped her breasts, kneading and plumping, tugging her nipples between his fingers. His breath hot against her skin, he ran the tip of his tongue up her neck, then glided his mouth over her chin, to her lips, taking her in a bruising kiss, fingers closing on her nipples, pinching lightly. He continued the relentless barrage against her senses until she was helplessly arching her hips up from the seat.

Suddenly he broke the kiss, and pulled away, his eyes closed, his jaw tightly clenched. A breath hissed from between his gritted teeth. The sight of him fighting for self-control, the proof of the effect she had on him, sent a primitive, erotic thrill through her. The sight of him so aroused that he was in pain was beyond arousing. It had the same effect on her desire for him as gasoline splashed on an open flame.

She should stop him. She was helpless to stop him.

Then he opened his eyes, their gazes collided and she knew he knew exactly what she was feeling. Lost. On the edge. Hanging. In terrible need. He slanted his mouth over hers, sucking her tongue deep into his mouth.

A tiny convulsive spasm began to shiver inside her, and with it came the dim memory of where they were: On a plane, with nearly a hundred people around!

God, what if she came?

God, what if she screamed when she came?

“S-stop—” she panted against his lips.

“Too late, lass.”

He cupped her intimately between her legs, through her jeans, pressing the heel of his palm hard against the vee between her thighs, and she nearly cried out from the exquisite pleasure of his touch there, where she was so empty and ached so desperately. His breathing harsh, he moved his hand in perfect rhythm, expertly finding her clitoris through the fabric of her jeans, using the bump of the inseam to create the perfect friction against it. Oh, the man knew how to touch a woman!

“Let go, lass. Give it to me now.”

His husky growl pushed Chloe helplessly over the edge.

The noise that might have escaped her then, had he not crushed his mouth hard to hers, would have embarrassed her for perpetuity. Might have awakened the whole damned plane. She fancied it might have caused turbulence.

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!