She’d wanted sex with Lance to take the edge off. To work out this weird attraction. The tension.
Instead, she wanted more.
More talking. More understanding. More accepting.
More Lance.
And she wanted more without fighting. Without orders. Without pretense.
But as far as she could tell, the pretenseswere exactly what he liked about her.
Lance’s eyeswere so crossed he was honestly concerned he wouldn’t be able to fly for a week. His sated limbs were heavy, and he had his nose buried in the sweet smell of satisfied woman.
Firecrackerwas an understatement.
And that was before she’d gotten all the way out of her clothes.
The woman rose to every challenge and left him struggling to keep up.
She took a shuddery breath beneath him. He struggled to lift his head, which felt like an anvil on his neck. About as useful too.
“Are you—” he started, but before he could finish, Kaci grunted and rolled.
While he was still on top of her.
His limp arms refused his commands to move. His body shifted. She gave him onelast shove, and he tumbled off the couch and landed ass-first on the carpet. “What the hell?”
The last thing he saw was her wiping her nose on her way to grab her cat and shut both of them into her bedroom.
He gaped at the plain wood door.
On the screen, the plane was still burning.
Maybe ordering her out of her clothes had been an asshole move.
But Kaci Boudreaux didn’t take orders unless she wanted to. She’d crashed the plane on purpose.
Twice.
She’d wanted to play along.
So what the hell was her problem? She’d gotten off just as much as he had.
Unless she’d been faking.
Would she…?
No, he decided. Not Kaci.
She’d much rather give him shit fornotgetting her off than fake her way through it for the sake of his ego.
And she’d initiated the kissing.
She’d wanted this.
Hadn’t she? Had he missed some signal? Some sign?
He rose to his feet and tugged his underwear back up. “Kaci?” he called through her bedroom door.
