“What the hell are you doing?”

He gave me a wink and pulled the grey tank top off, too, revealing skin that had a light, evenly tanned gold to it. No tan lines, that was his normal coloring. His chest was perfect, the indent deep that differentiated his right and left pectoral muscles, abs so tight I wanted to run my nails up them to see if they sang like a harp.

My mouth was open in surprise and I cut a quick look to his face. “Wow.”

“Thank you,” he smirked.

“Not that wow! Wow, you are unbelievably full of yourself! I’m your boss.”

“So tell me what to do,” he smiled.

“Oh my God!”

His voice deepened. “Yes?”

“Jesus!”

“You rang?”

I leaned back, head swinging toward the kitchen so I didn’t stare at his body. I was throbbing, wet, and angry. In order not to drink him I drank the whiskey. The burn of the amber liquor was so intense. I’d tried it before, this wasn’t my first taste, but everything was heightened with Ethan shirtless on the couch across from me, a smirking, half-naked reminder that we were completely alone. The pilots wouldn’t peek out here. They’d have no cause to, and I’m sure a playboy like Ethan was turning out to be had them trained to leave him and his lady passengers alone.

I could feel his heated gaze and I wanted to throw this at him for being so damn sexy. Every part of my body — not my mind — wished I could straddle his lap and lace my fingers into that golden-brown mop of soft hair. I wanted to force his handsome face down between my legs. And with each passing second I was forgetting my sweet young intern and how she was probably wondering why he hadn’t called.

I saw movement from my periphery and slowly looked over. Ethan was leaning back on the couch opposite me, rubbing his abs while watching me. He lifted his glass to his lips and licked around one half of the rim while I stared at him in shock. Then he took a slow sip, never losing eye contact. I wasn’t breathing anymore. I didn’t know what to do. My chest was tingling. My legs felt hot. And between my thighs was so slick I was afraid I’d slide onto the floor if I moved.

I licked my lips as he licked his.

Then he smiled. “Ms. Reed?”

“Mmm?”

“Got your mind off the take off, didn’t I?” His smile spread to a grin as my eyes widened.

“You jerk!”

“We’re in the air,” he shrugged. “Been leveled off for a while now. And you never even noticed.”

I started laughing. He’d tricked me. “You…Okay, wow! So you’re not as arrogant as I thought.”

He reached for his button-up shirt, the tank ignored, and set the glass down as he said, “Depends on your definition of the word.” He glanced from me to the shirt. “You care if I leave this off?”

“Do whatever you want. It doesn’t affect me.”

He didn’t believe me for a second. “Yeah right.”

“It doesn’t. I’ve seen male chests before.”

A low laugh escaped him as he slipped his arms through the sleeves, the front unbuttoned. I wanted it to stay that way but there was no way in hell I’d confess such a thing. It’d be like putting myself on the floor and asking him to walk all over me, to give him that much knowledge…and power.

Still I wanted the shirt off.

I would settle for open, that would be good, too.

Ethan paused, his thick fingers holding the first button and hole near each other. His gaze rose and he eyed me. “Tell me to leave it off.”

“No.”

He opened the shirt wider, letting it hang like that. “Hey Ms. Reed, I’ve got another idea. You want to make a bet?”

“Another bet?” I asked, half-smiling like he was ridiculous. “Come on. You really want to lose twice?”

“I don’t think I will lose.” He touched his nipple and circled it slowly then dropped his hand as if he hadn’t done that.

I drank more whiskey. “What’s the bet?”

“You have to say you’ll stick to it first.”

“I will not say that before I know what it is.”

“Scared?”

My jaw tightened and I kept my glass to my lips, lying, “No, I’m not scared.”

“Prove it. Say you’ll honor the bet.”

“Fine!” I waved the glass in the air and rolled my eyes. “I’ll honor your stupid bet. What is it?”

“I bet you’re wet right now.”

I shot upright and objected, “No way!”

“You said you’d honor the bet!”

“How am I supposed to do that?!” I barked.

He grinned, and for the first time I saw a little dimple in his cheek. Just the one super sexy indentation.

“I’ll have to feel you to make sure.”

I gasped, “What?!” and he waved a finger.

“Ah ah ah, you said you’d honor it. But you’re a grown woman. You can say no. And I won’t hold it against you.”

My eyes narrowed. “I can feel you baiting me, Mr. Cocker.”

“If you say yes and I’m right, I win the bet.”

“And what do you get?”

He rested his foot on the table, legs spread, shirt open. “It’s what you’ll get.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“Ms. Reed, if I’m right and my fingers slide around, then I will take you somewhere less cloudy next weekend.”

I stared at him, wondering how I’d gotten myself into this. “There’s no way I’m letting you touch my…”

“Pussy?” he finished on a smirk, hand sliding halfway down his thigh so that it rested on the inner curve.

There was an invisible cord of electricity between us. “I’m your boss,” I murmured, eyes locked with his.

“Not really,” he rasped, voice thick.

“I sign your paychecks whether you need them or not.” I glanced around. “And apparently you don’t.”

“Unless you beat me at golf. Then I work pro bono.”

We stared at each other. “This bet almost makes me a prostitute.”

He laughed, “No, it fucking doesn’t. It makes you a gambler, which we already know you are. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

He’d stolen my ability to argue, so I shrugged a shoulder and lamely said, “Still. It’s my corporation whether I’m paying you there or not, I’m still your superior.”

“Alright, if you insist on being my boss because it gets you off, tell me what you want me to do, Sir.”

My core was humming. “Mr. Cocker, why don’t you change the subject so the air can cool down a little?”

“Your voice is trembling,” he frowned, taking his foot off the table and leaning toward me. “I’m not scaring you, am I? I’m flirting, you’re in no danger.”

“I’m not scared, I’m…”

I bit my lip.

“You’re what?” he asked, curious. “Because I’ve got a sister, a ton of female cousins and my mother is the best woman I’ve ever known—”

“I’m turned on, Ethan.”

Could my heart beat any louder?

He set his whiskey on the table between us and stood up. I swallowed in anticipation as he walked around, grabbed onto the back of the couch next to my right shoulder and leaned in really close to my lips. He slid his hand under the front of my pants, fingers flattened. I stopped breathing as he dipped under my panties and oh so slowly followed the curve of my mound until his fingers crooked and slid under my cleft, into the slit. His lips parted and I could smell the whiskey on his breath as his breathing paused with suspense. I was frozen.

“Looks like I’m taking you to Turtle Island next weekend, Ms. Reed,” he rasped, and then closed his eyes a second, swept away by how good my wetness felt to him. I was throbbing and wondered if he could feel it. I wanted a kiss. I wanted his fingers to move. To stroke me and make me cum. Ease this ache he’d started. I was too stunned to do anything at all.

Removing his hand Ethan stood, towering above me as I stared up at him. He walked toward the plane’s kitchen, then stopped and licked his fingers. Glancing back to me, he asked, “You hungry?”

Fuck yes, but not for food.

“Sure,” I stammered. “Let’s have lunch.”