He lifted his glass of wine, then frowned and set it down. His determination to protect her wasn't the only reason he'd agreed to bring her along. He didn't like lies, and self-deception was the worst kind. He wanted MacKenzie Lloyd. It was just that simple. Just that vital.
Sitting here watching her sleep was enough to have his blood nearly boiling. He wanted to know everything about her, to discover what made her tick. He wanted to touch her, to discover what pleased her, to watch her come alive when he was inside her again.
He wanted all of her.
If he could make love to her – just once again without any kind of pretense between them – maybe then he could get her out of his system.
And if he couldn't? He'd just have to face that when he got to it.
He moved to her then, lifting her into his arms and carrying her into the small bedroom at the back of the plane.
*
She shot from deep sleep to half sleep with a swiftness that had her mind and senses reeling. Blood heating, pulse racing, she was trapped in a place where all she could feel was Lucas – his body pressed tightly against hers at every possible contact point, his hands holding her wrists. And his mouth, insatiable and possessive, moved over hers, drawing everything from her.
Freeing one of her hands, she ran it over his shoulder, testing the hard muscles, craving the warm smooth skin beneath the shirt. Hers. The word brought pleasure and a hint of panic. He was only hers for as long as she could hold on to the dream.
"Wake up. All the way now."
The voice was soft, seductive. She struggled against it.
His teeth nipped at her bottom lip. "C'mon, Mac. Wake up for me."
It was the sound of her name that had her eyes snapping open. All she could see was him, his mouth only inches from hers, his eyes dark and so hot.
"What?" She struggled to think. "Where?"
"Shh." He brushed his lips against hers. "We're on my private plane. Remember?"
Memories flooded back. They were flying to California to find Sophie. She was in danger. Mac tried to move and found she couldn't. His body truly was pressed against hers at every possible contact point. It hadn't been a dream.
"I figure we must be about forty thousand feet over Kansas right now."
"Lucas." The word sounded breathless.
"Shh." He continued to nibble at her lips. "We have to be very quiet. I don't think you want my pilot to know what we're doing."
She felt the rush of heat flood her face, felt the warmth of his chuckle at her ear.
"You're blushing, Mac. Did I ever tell you how much it excites me when you blush?" He spoke the words against her skin as he traced kisses along her jaw, down her neck. "And I don't think that Sally the hooker or Fiona the mermaid are genetically capable of being embarrassed. What's your expert opinion on that?"
"Stop," she managed to say. "If this is your way of punishing me…"
"Uh-oh. Now the doc is back. I don't think she blushes either. She's always so busy analyzing or planning." When he scraped his teeth along her throat, she moaned.
"Still want me to stop?"
Even as she struggled to form the word, he shifted his weight. For one moment she felt cold, bereft. Then his hands freed the snap of her jeans, pulling and tugging them down her legs.
"Yes," she breathed as his clever fingers began to move up her inner thighs. "Oh, yes." She no longer knew what question she was answering.
Pushing aside her panties, he slipped one finger inside her. "I'll stop anytime you say."
"Yes. Don't … stop." Pleasure streaked through her as she arched into his hand.
"I'm getting mixed signals here. Why don't you open your eyes and tell me exactly what you want me to do next?"
She saw his face above hers, his eyes so hot that she was sure they alone were causing the flames within her. Drawing in a deep breath, she tried to bank the fire, tried to find some shred of control. "We were going to lay down some rules."
She saw his lips curve just before he lowered them to hers. "I'm following the ones you laid down before. It's my turn, my fantasy."
He was punishing her, Mac thought as he withdrew his fingers and then slipped them inside again. But the pleasure was exquisite, irresistible. She moaned again when he did something with his thumb, and his fingers moved deeper.
"I never did admit to you what my fantasy was," he murmured as he trailed kisses from her temple to her jaw. "My fantasy is just you and me, Mac. Just the two of us alone with nothing to do but pleasure each other."
She should be able to resist. But she couldn't prevent her arms from going around him. She knew he didn't mean it. He couldn't mean it, not when he'd been so angry with her. He was just trying to get even. Still, she threaded her fingers through his hair. She couldn't, she wouldn't, push him away when she might never have this chance again.
"Just enjoy." The rhythm of his fingers increased, and suddenly her body grew taut. She lifted her hips from the bed, reaching. Very slowly, he withdrew his fingers.
"Not yet," he whispered as he kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her chin.
"Please," she whispered, gripping his shoulders.
His thumb teased her again. "Look at me."
When she did, she saw the heat in his and the reflection of herself.
"Tell me that you want me."
He was giving her a choice. She could say no. In some part of her mind she knew that. Her eyes never wavered from his when she said, "I want you."
He made a place for himself between her legs. "Look at me, Mac. Say my name."
"Lucas."
Even then he didn't enter her, not all the way. Instead, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. The tenderness of the kiss shuddered through her, melting her. She was trembling, but her eyes were open and on his when he finally pushed into her.
This was the way he'd imagined her. This was exactly how he wanted her – pliant and warm beneath him, her muscles limber. But he hadn't anticipated the sweetness of her surrender. He hadn't realized how the piercing pleasure of it would pull at his control. Would it always be this way?
The moment that he began to move, she moved with him, absorbing and matching each stroke. She was his. He tried to keep the pace slow and easy because he wanted to spin out the moment. He wanted to remember the way she looked, her cheeks flushed, her eyes dark with desire.
But each time he sank into her, he was losing a part of himself. He should have been able to slow down or pull back. All he could so was move faster. And still she moved with him. When she ran one possessive hand down his back, he knew he was lost.
"Come with me." His voice was raspy, raw as he increased his rhythm and they began to race together to the finish. He felt the climax move through her, then heard his name mingle with hers as he held her tight and surged within her.
*
For a while, Mac let herself drift, absorbing the sensations. His head was still buried in her hair, her hand was still tangled in his. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart. Or was it her own?
She'd never been taken so completely by anyone. She'd never even imagined anything like it. In a minute she was sure she would start to form a list in her mind of all the reasons why she shouldn't have let Lucas Wainright seduce her.
Right now she didn't care. She didn't want to think, to analyze, to plan. Outside the window, the light had softened to a glow. Day was teetering on the brink of tumbling into night. And it would. No one could hold off tomorrow. All one could do was cling to the present.
A sudden, enormous thump shook the cabin.
Lucas raised his head. "What the…"
The plane lurched suddenly and they tumbled off the narrow bed to the floor. Another lurch sent them rolling, and her head rapped smartly against the wall.
"Are you all right?" Lucas asked, holding tight as the plane banked sharply. This time he managed to keep them from rolling, but they still slid into the bed.
Mac made a strangled sound.
"You're hurt," he said.
"No."
When she lifted her head, he saw that her eyes were filled with laughter. She clamped a quick hand over her mouth and turned a giggle into a gurgle.
Relief nearly made him giddy.
"Sorry about that." Jill Roberts's voice poured out of the speaker. "The turbulence was a little rougher than predicted or I would have warned you. I hope you had your seat belts fastened."
"We're fine."
Mac buried her head against his chest to muffle a fresh wave of giggles.
"I'm climbing out of it now, but there may be a few more bumps. Keep your belts fastened."
"Thanks, Jill," Lucas said. The moment he heard the intercom click off, he gave Mac a shake. "You want to tell me what's so funny."
When she lifted her head, her hand was still clamped over her mouth. Lowering it, she took a deep breath, then paused to swallow a giggle. "I just remembered when we fell off the bed. Doing it on a plane – it's one of the top ten fantasies of men. They even have a club you can join. You must have heard of it."
"The mile-high club? I still don't see what's tickling your funny bone."
The plane banked again and they rolled into the wall so that he held her pinned against it as laughter moved through her.
"Some men even charter a plane so that they can join the club. My question is why? So they can roll around and nearly kill themselves?"
She had a point. He was willing to bet that they'd both have bruises. "On a commercial jet, there'd be the challenge, the added excitement of not getting caught. That seems to be a big factor in your research."