"Fred," he said dryly.

She rolled her eyes. "How about Paul?"

"Or maybe just Mark. I always thought it would be funny to give a dog a completely human name, and then when you're in Central Park to call him back to you. Not with C'mere Fido, or C'mere Max, but C'Mere Mark. Come on now, Ethan."

Casey smiled and laughed, kicking her leg back and forth, like a pendulum. Okay, she was nervous. He needed to say something.

Instead, his brain tripped on the name he'd just shared. Ethan. "That reminds me. I haven't seen Ethan Holmes in a while."

"Ethan at the Victoria Hotels, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah. We worked together at the Luxe, back when I was VP of biz dev. He was in operations, and we were both up for the top job. Good guy, but I haven't talked to him much since he left when he didn't get the CEO gig."

"I hear Victoria is trying to revamp its image a little. That the chain is seen as a bit stuffy, and they want to appeal to a younger crowd."

"Yeah. I heard that too. I should check in. See if he wants to catch a Yankees game. We had a vendor who gave us tickets to his box seats. I'll have to give him a shout when I get back."

"So Ethan's a no-go then for your future dog's name," she said with a wry smile.

He snapped his fingers. "I know what to name my future dog. Jim, after the comedian," he mused, and her eyes lit up.

"His show was so great. Remember?" she said, nudging him. "We were laughing all night when I took you to see him."

For his birthday last year when he'd turned thirty-two, she'd taken him to a Jim Gaffigan stand-up show, and they were nearly doubled over during his Hot Pockets bit. It occurred to him then that he was hunting for any sort of connection, and that even suggesting he'd name a dog someday after a gift she'd given him was his roundabout way of tying this conversation back to them.

But he didn't plan to psychoanalyze the fact that he wasn't sure what to say to the woman he'd made cry out his name last night. Deep down, he already knew why he was struggling to broach the topic. Because he could talk to her about anything-about dogs, and books, and business, and women, and men, and he'd been able to do that long before he'd seen her beautiful body bared just for him. He didn't want last night to have messed up their ability to talk.

"Casey," he said, turning to look her in the eyes.

"Yes?"

"About last night . . ."

Her eyes widened in fear. "You didn't like it?"

His heartbeat quickened. That was the last thing he needed her to think. "Don't even go there," he said, scooting closer to her on the smooth leather seats in the plane. The big jet hummed quietly as it soared through blue skies. The attendant had retreated to the front of the cabin, giving them privacy.

She brought her hand to her chest and breathed out hard. "Good. Because I thought . . ."

"You thought what? That I was going to say you were too forward? Too direct?"

Red inched across her cheeks. She nodded.

"But you weren't either of those," he said, his lips curving up as he raised his hand, brushing a finger down her cheek. "You did great."

"I did?"

He nodded. "Yes. What did you think? Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yes. So much."

"How did it feel to let go?"

"Honestly?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Uh-oh. Now it was his turn to worry. Maybe he should have finished things off last night because what if she didn't enjoy the kind of sex she wanted to try? What if last night had been his only chance to be with her and he'd blown it by waiting? Fucking idiot. What kind of guy denies a woman who's hot for a no-strings one-night stand? This one.

"Yes. Honestly," he said, steeling himself.

She brought her face closer, their foreheads nearly touching. His chest tightened, and his nostrils flared as he inhaled her scent. Her sweet lips were so close to his ear, as she whispered, "Nate Harper, you gave me the best orgasm of my life last night. It was better than any of my toys, and that's saying something, because those bad boys are top-notch."

A bolt of lust tore through his chest, like lightning heating up the sky. Desire and pride surged in him, and he was ready to go again. Now. Tonight. Anytime. He wasn't going to miss his chance.

But when she inched away from him, that sexy lustful look was gone and had been replaced by a studious, business-like one. "What about you? I mean, I know you didn't come and all. But was it good for you?"

"It was spectacular, Casey."

A smile lit up her face, and the moment turned oddly surreal again. "I think we should do it again. I did a little research this morning on things we can try." She was the eager student, ready for more teaching.

He arched an eyebrow. "You did?"

"Yes. I thought it would be smart to prep if we're going to do this. To do it properly," she said and grabbed her mini iPad from her purse, snapped open the cover and tapped on the notepad icon. "Christian and Ana ran through a checklist in advance. It helped them," she said, and when he scrunched up his brow, drawing a blank at the names, she added, "Christian Grey."

"Ah, but of course. I should have been on a first-name basis with him."

"Anyway, I grabbed a list from a website on kink and submission, and since we're doing lessons, I thought perhaps we should discuss the curriculum in advance."

He reined in a laugh. At least she was keen to continue. "Oh well, if Christian and Ana did it this way, we should too," he said dryly.

"They're the leading experts. But no red room of pain for us. And we don't even need to discuss caning, whipping or flogging, because those are not going to be on the menu."

"I won't even try to order them a la carte," he said, slashing his hand through the air.

"Let's begin with . . . spanking," she said, reading the list.

"I'm good with it. You?"

She nodded. "Absolutely."

He peered at the list on the screen. "How about ropes?"

"I believe I won't mind being tied up with you," she said, raising an eyebrow at her double entendre. He nodded approvingly, both at the pun and the prospect of her restrained.

She pointed to the next item on the list. "Ball gag?" She cringed. "That's not ever going to happen."

"We'll send it the way of the cane."

She nodded vigorously, then dropped her voice to a confessional whisper. "But I might be open to a riding crop. I'm not sure, but I'd like to try."

The situation in his jeans was getting tight. "I'd like to use a crop on you," he said in a low and dirty voice. She gazed back at him, the look in her eyes saying she was willing.

"Hair pulling, biting, scratching. I'm pretty sure I'd like all those," she said, miming checking them off the list.

"Always good to test them out to be safe though. What about handcuffs?"

"Only if you wear a cop uniform."

He groaned appreciatively, then tapped the list. "Which gives me the answer to the next one. Role-playing. That's a yes."

"Definitely." She gestured to the next item, and made a pout. "Orgasm denial? I don't think I'd like that."

"Oh, but I bet I could make you love it."

She narrowed her eyes, then spoke in a sultry, suggestive tone. "But Nate, I love coming."

Heat ran rampant in his body, like wildfire. This woman was going to be his undoing. She was flirty and dirty, and eager to give him the reins to her body. He was a lucky son-of-a-bitch.

"I don't know what man would not want you to be direct. Because when you say things like that-direct and insanely sexy things-it just makes me want to make sure you come over and over," he said.

She drew a quick breath, pushed her hair off her shoulders and mouthed thank you.

"Now, onto blindfolds," she said, returning to her workman-like attack of the list. "I think I can handle a blindfold. We sell them, you know."

"Good. Why don't you see if you can get the CEO discount? How about candles?" he asked, reading off another kinky option.

"Yeah. About that one," she said, tapping her finger against her lips. "Do I want hot wax dripping between my breasts? Yes? No? Yes? No?"

She glanced down, then ran a fingertip along her cleavage, checking how it might feel. A groan worked its way up his chest as she traveled across her skin. She was driving him wild. So clinical, so logical, when all he wanted was . . . to drip hot wax between her breasts. He reached for her hand, the thing he'd wanted to do earlier, then laced his fingers tightly in hers, guiding her hand along her breasts, down her belly, and to her lap.

"I'll do the testing," he said as he let go of his grip. "But what I really want to know is this..."

He threaded his fingers through her hair, grabbing a fistful. He waited 'til she moaned softly, then he tugged hard, yanking her head back in one quick move. A muffled cry of pleasure gave him the answer.

"Now I'm picturing you on your hands and knees, your spine bowed, your hair spilling down your back. I won't be able to resist pulling it hard then either," he whispered roughly, as he gripped tightly in demonstration.

She shivered in response, and breathed out sharply. With one hand firmly in her hair, he dragged his other hand down her chest, trailing a finger from the hollow of her throat to the valley between her luscious tits.

"Now let's address some other questions, Casey," he said, as he continued his exploration, dropping his hand inside her powder blue bra to stroke her breast. "You like it when I play with your breasts. I learned that last night," he said squeezing a dark pink nipple. She gasped in surprise. "But the one thing I'm not sure of is whether you like them to be sucked. Let's find out," he said, unbuttoning the top two buttons on her short-sleeved shirt, freeing a gorgeous globe of flesh. He groaned greedily, eager to taste her as he dropped his mouth to her hard nipple, drawing it between his teeth.

He bit down.

Instantly, her hands flew to his hair, tugging him closer. She arched into him, and he heard a hiss in her breath, as if she were trying to be quiet so the flight attendant up front wouldn't hear. He flicked the tip of his tongue against her delicious nipple until she moaned so loudly he feared she'd wake up the sleeping dogs. He pressed his hand to her mouth, covering it tightly, shushing her as he sucked and tasted each breast until she was wriggling in the seat. He finished with a quick bite on each nipple.

When he stopped, her wild untamed gaze told him everything he needed to know. "Yes, you like nipple play a hell of a lot, and that tells me you'll love it when I drizzle hot wax between your breasts. It'll get you so wet your panties will be useless, and you'll be begging me to strip you down to nothing and take you," he said, then grabbed her waist, and moved her on top of him. "But right now, we have another lesson."

"What's the lesson?" she asked as she straddled him, knees tucked up on either side of his legs.

"This one is called Don't Wake the Dogs," he said, then clasped one hand on her mouth yet again, and dipped his other hand underneath her skirt, sliding his fingers across the slick wetness on the panel of her panties. God, there was little he loved more than the evidence of a woman's arousal. He slid his fingers inside, gliding across that silky wetness that made his whole body feel electric. Touching her at all was such a privilege; touching her in this heightened state was a gift.

Her eyes glittered with lust as she rocked against his fingers. He couldn't resist-he drew his hand away from her legs, brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked off her wetness. Her eyes flared as she watched him.

"All morning, I could still taste you on me. I had to taste you again," he said, then returned to her slick flesh, sliding through her slippery wetness that told him exactly how much she'd enjoyed having her breasts sucked.

So much that his fingers were coated in her. She was some kind of live wire right now, and he intended to make her body sing. He ran his fingers across her heat, then zeroed in on her swollen clit. She muffled a moan against his palm. She wasn't going to take long at all. My God, the things he could do with her body. The pleasure he intended to give her. The possibilities were endless.

"Let me feel you all over my hand," he said, his eyes on hers the whole time as he slid a finger into her, crooking so he could find that magic spot. She bowed her back in response to the penetration. Her slick walls gripped his finger, and he added one more, all the while rubbing his thumb across her clit. "Rock into my hand. Do it hard," he commanded.

She did as told, riding him, humping his fingers, fucking his hand furiously. She was a gorgeous sight, all wanton and naughty, and his lungs burned with desire for her; his dick ached to fill her. His body craved her climax. He wanted it badly, wanted her to fall apart for him in the sky.

She tensed all over, her thighs gripping him, and her eyes squeezed shut. "Come quietly," he whispered, urging her on. "I want to watch you come quietly."

She shuddered and dug her teeth into his palm, her body shaking before she collapsed into his arms.

He held her.

"Can I touch you now?" she said, her sweet voice melting him. He loved that she offered, that she seemed to want to, even if it wasn't part of her "training."

He raised her chin so she could meet his eyes. "No."

She frowned. "Why? Are you into orgasm denial? That is no fun."

"Not in the least. But the answer is simple-I don't want to be quiet. And I don't want to wake the dogs, or annoy the flight attendant. That's why I said no. But rest assured, when we're back in New York we'll get through some other items on your list."

She sighed happily, then wriggled against him, as if she wanted to be closer. Not wanting to deny her a thing on this earth, he roped his arms around her.

"You're amazing," she whispered, her breathing still erratic as she floated down from her orgasm. Her praise sent a wicked thrill through him. Call it masculine pride. Call it ego. When a woman turns to you to teach her a new type of fucking, there's nothing a man wants to hear more than amazing. Though, come to think of it, best orgasm of my life was just as good.

"So are you," he said softly, stroking her hair. He couldn't believe she thought she needed to learn anything.

"I can tell why women adore you," she said, continuing her compliments.

He tensed at the reminder of his playboy status, then told himself not to bristle. He was what he was. She hadn't asked him for help because he batted ninth. He was a clean-up hitter, and so far with Casey he'd been belting home runs.

"I'm just glad you enjoyed it. And, by the way, you take direction exceedingly well, so I don't know why you're fixated on this idea that you-" but then he stopped short before he finished the thought-can't give up control. He wanted her to still need him, so he edited himself. "Need to change, but you're doing a great job learning how to give up control. So we'll just keep teaching you."

She moved off him, grabbed her iPad, and returned to her list. "Hmm," she said, as she studied it. "I'm not sure which of the items I'm supposed to be checking off. What do you consider what we just did?"

He gritted his teeth, annoyed with the idea of being an item on a list. But hell, he was the one who'd brought up the list a minute ago. "Ball gag. Consider that an impromptu ball gag, since you couldn't speak," he said, rising. He turned to face her. "Oh, and in case this helps you on your list, you can check that you liked it. Now if you'll excuse me."

After a quick restroom trip to wash his hands, he visited with the dogs, giving each a soft pat, then returned to Casey. She was scrolling through an email.

"There's a note from Grant about getting together in a month," she said, a happy look on her face as she read the message. He was ready to grab the iPad and smash the damn thing.

"That's great," he said, closing his eyes, willing himself to not be irritated that she was excited. Grant was a man she could have a future with. Nate was a man who lived for the present.