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not?”
The flight attendant responded more quickly to the summons, and they ordered another round. While they waited, he noticed that the other passengers in the cabin were either already sleeping or deeply engrossed in the feature on their private video screens. The cabin lights had been extinguished except for those marking the exits and lavatories. On the other side of the cabin, an elderly woman was reading by her task light, and it provided only a pinpoint of light.
The flight attendant returned, serving the drinks the same way she had before. “How come she’s pouring yours?” he asked.
She ducked her head shyly, fiddled with the top button on her blouse again. “I asked her to. When I went up front, I asked her to pour me doubles.”
“Foul!” he cried in a stage whisper.
“I didn’t want you to think I was a lush.” That was when she pulled the elastic band from her hair and gave her head a shake. Her dark hair fell into a sleek cape around her shoulders. Sighing, she leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. “I needed to relax, to let go, to…to block my mind from thinking about…it.”
“Tough scene in Paris?”
She swallowed with difficulty, and a tear slid from between her eyelids and down her cheek. “On a scale of one to ten?”
“Ten?”
“Twelve.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“He’s an idiot.”
“Thank you again.” Leaving her head on the headrest, she turned it toward him. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Neither do I.” He paused for a count of ten, then reached out and wiped away the tear on her cheek with the tip of his index finger. “What should we talk about?”
Never breaking eye contact, she counted to at least twenty, then asked in a husky voice, “Do we have to talk?”
Her gaze had moved to his mouth, where it remained for several seconds before she looked into his eyes again. And that’s when he knew. It was a sure thing. They were going to have sex. And not when they got to Atlanta, either. Right here. Right now.
He’d had friends who boasted of doing it on an airplane. He’d heard the urban legends about in-flight couples being caught in flagrante delicto, but he hadn’t given those stories much credence.
From a practical standpoint, it was dicey. For one thing, you had hundreds of chances of being caught, depending on the size of the aircraft and the number of passengers onboard. Venue was another factor, and space was limited no matter where you did the deed.
But the possibility of it had his whole system pumping testosterone.
Especially since his potential partner was looking at him with such naked need, and her eyes hinted at a hot, sexual nature smoldering inside the classy exterior. Maybe she was thinking that her husband had cheated because she’d been too reserved in their marriage bed, that she should have let her hair down sooner, acted on impulse, said to hell with inhibitions.
Whatever.
He looked around. The reader had turned off her light. The man across the aisle was dozing through his movie. When Derek’s eyes came back to her, they transmitted his willingness with the intensity he used to communicate innocence to a skeptical jury.
She sat her glass on the armrest, then touched his hand with her cold fingertips. It was just a brush across his knuckles, but it was an unmistakable invitation. In an instant she was gone, moving silently up the darkened aisle toward the lavatories at the front of the cabin.
A curtain had been pulled across the galley on the other side of the cabin. No one, neither passengers nor attendants, was looking. Nevertheless, his heart was thudding. Was he nuts? Had he lost his mind completely? Was he really going to do this?
You bet your ass I am.
Because he thrived on high-stakes situations. Because he had a hard-on to beat all hard-ons. Because if a woman ever wanted and needed to be fucked, it was this one. And because of the most fundamental reason: He wanted her.
He unbuckled his seat belt, then painfully stood up and squeezed himself