"When we were separated in the woods I kept thinking about you…and me, and Taylor Shaw…we're in this together."

I came so close to blurting out my feelings for him on the plane, for confessing the fear and pain I'd felt at the thought of losing him. But then the plane shook, our eye contact broke for just a second – and I floated back to reality. We weren't alone, no matter how much it felt like we were. I glanced back up into those dark blue eyes hesitantly. Why on earth was he smiling like that? And why did I suddenly find it so hard to breathe?

"How can you fly a chopper out of a combat zone and still be scared of a little turbulence?"

I chuckled softly, cringing at the breathy sound. His smile drifted into smirk territory; this wasn't good, this wasn't good at all. I resisted the urge to wet my lips as his hands settled over mine, an attempt to settle my nerves, but one that instead drove them over the edge. How was I supposed to think, let alone answer his question, when he was holding onto me? His thumb passed back and forth over my pulse and I blushed. Damn the man, didn't he know what he was doing to me?

"I think it's got something to do with being in control."

At the word control, he gave me an imperceptible nod, as if an answer to my unspoken question. Maybe I wasn't imagining it, maybe I wasn't the only one affected. I waited for him to let go, to release the hold he had over me literally and metaphorically, but Weller it seemed had other plans.

He spent the rest of the plane ride holding onto my hands, running his thumbs along the backs, and intertwining our fingers together when we weren't under the watchful gaze of Zapata. She knew something. Every now and then I caught her aiming a knowing look at Weller; those were the only moments when he tore his eyes away from me, the only time he stopped the languorous stroking of my skin. Kurt. I tried not to let that look bother me, but I was more than a little curious. What had gone on out there in the woods?

There hadn't been any time to catch up, to be alone, but somehow this was the closest Weller and I had been since our mutual decision for space. A failed experiment if ever there was one, I thought ruefully. If I wasn't mistaken, the bond between us was somehow stronger than ever. But would it last. I kicked that annoying doubt down, choosing instead to enjoy mimicking the movements of his hands. Each feather soft touch of my fingers against his wrist created an almost imperceptible reaction. At first the smirk dropped, then his blue-gray eyes narrowed, his mouth opened just a hair, and he shifted in his seat. I took more than a little pleasure in these tiny reactions, savoring them, tucking them away just in case he turned back into reserved Weller on the ground.

It was another hour before we landed, another deliciously torturous hour. We had hardly begun the descent before I too was squirming in my seat. We hadn't said much over the last hour, but the smoldering gaze that raked over my body was more than enough to make me slick and in need of relief. When his hands released mine, my body mourned the loss of his warmth. If I hadn't had sex dreams about Kurt Weller before, I was certainly going to have them tonight.

Weller's hand wrapped around my elbow, helping me stand and lingering just a moment longer than it should have. What would it be like I wondered to have those large hands roaming the length of my body, touching my most intimate parts. I hadn't craved a man in a long time but my body was certainly making up for it now.

"I need to speak to you" he whispered huskily, his lips less than an inch from my ear.

I could feel my entire body tense up as his hand slid down to the small of my back. Dread filled me the closer we got to the door of the plane. Out there was reality – Weller and Jane Doe, partners in crime fighting but little more. That door represented the unnatural aloofness we'd created and smothered heat. I wasn't ready to go back to that, not yet. Reade and Zapata were well ahead of us, no witnesses, if ever there was a time to take advantage of our closeness now was it.

I stopped suddenly in the middle of the aisle sending Weller's toned body crashing into my own. There was something so natural about the way his hands grasped my shoulders, pulling me against him instead of allowing me to topple forward. He didn't comment on the sudden stop, didn't complain, but he didn't let go either. His hands slid down my arms slowly, coming to rest on my waist. I leaned my head back against one broad shoulder as he played with the midriff of my shirt.

I could definitely get used to this. Outside the window Reade and Zapata were on their phones, no doubt reporting to Patterson and Mayfair that we arrived safely. I couldn't care less who they were talking to as long as Kurt's fingers kept up their exploration of my pale flesh.

In the end it was the beeping of Weller's phone that brought us crashing down to reality. He tried to angle it away from my line of sight, but not nearly quick enough. Zapata. I glanced out the window only to find her glaring up at us in annoyance. Weller stiffened and nudged me forward, the barrier between us sliding firmly back into place. Now more than ever I wanted to know what had gone on in those woods.