Ian’s gut instinct said so and he’d learned long ago to trust his instincts despite what the facts around him said. Then again, what did he really know about Monty? She’d been a mark from the beginning. One he’d gotten more entangled with than he should have, but a mark all the same. A mark he had no business being entangled with at the moment. None whatsoever. Then again, he’d always lived on the edge. Kissing Monty pushed him over that edge, made him freefall to dark, empty unknown chasms. Places that made him grind his body into hers. He wanted her. Fiercely. Unrepentedly. Desperately. Damn, they had too many clothes on. No one else was on the plane. Just them, the pilot, and co-pilot who wouldn’t dare disturb Kincaid’s guests. It was hours before they’d land at Heathrow. But that didn’t slow the urgency within him.
