Once she’s inside I move away from the door. I’m going to make sure she gets back to her seat okay before anything else.
Just a minute later she’s out and I take her hand and accompany her back to her seat.
“Thank you,” she says, buckling her seatbelt.
I just nod, knowing there’s so much more we could be doing right now.
I turn to leave and I hear the buckle making a clicking sound repeatedly.
“Ut oh,” she says, looking down at it.
I give it a quick look. “It’s broken.”
“What should I do when the fasten seatbelt light comes on?”
You should already be in my lap, riding me when that happens…the turbulence just heightening the experience.
An alternative hits me, but damn, this is really a risk. This could get me in a ton of hot water, and not just with the airline.
But there’s no way I’m leaving my woman out here without a seat belt. I’m a damn good pilot, and part of that is knowing all my passengers are safe at all times, especially her.
I don’t hesitate, finagling the belt free one last time and then quickly taking her by the hand and leading her towards the front of the plane, pulling the curtain closed behind us.
CHAPTER 5
Marie
I feel my heart skip a beat as he closes the curtain.
They way he’s very much in charge of everything all the time, his authoritative uniform, and the fact that there is no one around has me shaking slightly.
I feel my panties moisten quickly and although part of me wants what I think he wants, I’m not sure if I’m ready for this.
He opens a small hatch and extends his arm to a set of stairs. What the heck?
“Where do these stairs go?”
“Up.”
It hits me that I’ve been too docile up to this point. It was fine leading up to this point when he helped me through a very stressful situation and the seatbelt thing, but it’s time to show this guy that being agreeable and having a backbone are not mutually exclusive.
“I know that, but where? This seems…unusual.”
“It is unusual. I’ve never offered this to anyone before, so it’s safe to say this is unchartered territory for both of us.”
“But what is this?” I say taking a step back.
“This…is the pilot's resting area. It’s above first class, and tucked behind the cockpit on a Boeing 777, which is what this plane is.”
“A Boeing 777 and Flight number 777 also?”
“Yes, another unusual thing about this flight.”
“This whole thing has been unusual, not that I’m complaining.”
“I know and that’s why I’m offering you access up here. We have a lot of great passengers, but loads of complainers too. You’ve never complained once, and…there’s just something about you.”
“Something about me?” I say, raising an eyebrow as I instinctively point a finger back at my chest.
“More than something…everything.”
At this point I want to say this guy is just some cheesy carbon copy of the “romantic” French guys you see in movies…the ones who lay it on thick for the tourist girls in Paris and maybe the south of France too. I can just imagine some unsuspecting young backpackers showing up at Cannes during the film festival being offered “exclusive” entrance onto some “yacht” only to find out it’s a fishing boat converted for the week into something for “extravagant parties.” Translation…a guy trying to get some action at any and all costs under very misleading pretenses. No thank you.
But Gabriel isn’t laying it on thick at all. Everything seems so natural with him and although he does seem a bit possessive it always comes from a place of caring.
Call it a women’s intuition but I trust him. Do I trust him enough to climb up these stairs to some secret cabin, though? That’s the question.
What’s certainly not a question is how my body feels every time he’s close. I may have stepped away instinctively out of a slight fear, but his magnetic presence is quickly reeling me right back in.
And I quickly learn something else about myself.
The boys my age try and “get” girls with their humor, sometimes daddy’s money, or any other of the assortment of strategies that I’ve overheard them talking about.
But when it comes to Gabriel, there are none of those tricks. If anything it’s his powerful presence and his desire to help, even though it might be a little overbearing looking in hindsight, that makes your mind fixate on him…as mine has been since the first moment he walked into my life, took me by the arm and started making my life much, much better without asking for anything in return…yet.
“If you don’t feel comfortable, you don’t have to go. I understand, but the options are to go back to your original seat, without a seatbelt which will cause me to worry this entire flight and who knows…maybe I’ll be so worried I fly us to Iceland instead of Paris if the stress eats at me like I know it’s going to.”
I can’t help but smile slightly at that comment.
“Or you can climb up these stairs and enjoy a bigger TV, a space all to yourself, and I can have an entire bottle of champagne sent up all for you, although I recommend you don’t drink any more. Long haul flights are very dehydrating as it is and drinking alcohol makes it even worse. Your skin is flawless, beautiful, and switching from champagne to water will help keep it that way so when we land you’ll look and feel fresh and ready to explore Paris for the first time…assuming this is your first time in my city.”
“You can tell?”
“You have that look in your eye.”
“What look?”
“Like you’ve been planning this. Like you read guidebooks, got all the information you could off the Internet, probably downloaded the city map that you could use offline, and probably even watched a few French films with English subtitles. I wouldn’t be surprised if you tried a bit of Pimsleur French, or maybe Rosetta Stone, just so you could be considerate and speak with people, or at least try, when the time comes. Wait!”
“What?”
“I see you as more of a Michel Thomas Method kind of learner. Am I right?”
Damn, I can’t hold back the smile that overtakes my face.
“Guilty,” I say.
“And I also see that you want to go up those steps and see for yourself what it’s like up there.” He takes a step back. “Here,” he says, extending his hand. “Just duck behind the door, and lock it real quick and no one can follow you up. There won’t be anything to worry about.”
“That’s what a guy who’s already set the trap up there would say.”
He smiles. “You’re smart…too smart. I can’t even keep up.” He pauses just looking deep into my eyes with that smile and as crazy as it sounds I really feel a connection.
“But as you’ve already seen I wouldn’t let anyone harm you, and that’s why I’m offering you this place all to yourself, but if you don’t feel comfortable…I guess I’ll have to show you back to your seat.”
He doesn’t move and neither do I. I’m glad I stood up for myself on his “turf,” but I am curious.
“So the door locks from the inside?”
“Only the inside. See for yourself.”
I swing the door open more and examine it without moving from my spot.
“If you need anything you can call me. There’s a phone up there, but if for any reason we drop below ten thousand feet, and there’s a reading on the TV that shows you our elevation, don’t call me…just come down.”
“Why shouldn’t I call you below ten thousand feet?”
“Conversation below ten thousand feet is restricted to issues directly related to operating the airplane. No non-pertinent conversation is permitted by the FAA.”
“They’re listening in?”
“No, but they might pick it up as background noise or ask me what’s going on. Explaining that there’s a passenger, and I hate to call you that because y
ou’re so much more, up in a restricted area could require a lot of explaining.”
“I’m so much more than a passenger?”
“Yes,” he says immediately.
I feel tingly and excited, wondering exactly what he means and hoping it means something along the lines of the images that are flashing through my head right now.
“What am I then?”
“Mine.”
CHAPTER 6
Gabriel
“Man, I’m beat,” Baptiste says.
I look at my Breitling and see it’s already well into the night, which is surprising considering how time has been dragging.
That’s how it works when you can’t take your mind off someone, or at least that’s what they say.
And now, for the first time in my life, I can confirm the saying is true.
I want to go up to the pilot’s quarters so damn bad and claim her as mine, but this isn’t the time or the place. We can do that another time, but our first time needs to be done right. She’s perfect and she deserves it.
And my co-pilot doesn’t deserve to see my angel sleeping, let alone know she’s up there.
“Something of mine is the cabin upstairs. Let me go grab it and then you can have the place all to yourself.”
“You don’t need to sleep?”
“No, I’m totally wired.”
“How much coffee did you drink?”
“None.”
“And you’re this wide awake?” he says giving me an incredulous look.
I just nod as I undo my seat belt and exit the cockpit, closing the door to the cockpit before gently knocking on the door to upstairs.
No answer.
I turn the handle slightly and it opens.
I don’t like this, not one bit. The idea that anyone could just barge in on my woman doesn’t sit well with me at all.
Yes, we’re over thirty thousand feet in the sky and most of the passengers in business class are either asleep or have reputations to protect, which would make the idea of being busted for snooping around on a plane ludicrous, but still…I’m not about taking chances when it comes to her.
I’m up the stairs quickly and thankfully she’s just there sleeping. Damn, she really does look like an angel…my angel.
“Hey there, sunshine,” I say wiggling her foot lightly.
Slowly she rolls off her side and over onto an elbow as she takes in the sight of me.
“Hey,” she says giving me a smile even though she’s barely awake.
Damn, that’s the sight I want to see every morning for the rest of my life. I could wake up every day to her natural beauty and that smile of hers that hits me right in the chest making my entire body feel warm.
“Sleep good?”
“Amazing. Thank you.”
“Good. Sorry to wake you but the co-pilot wants to catch a few zzz’s and I can’t exactly ask him to just kick his feet up in your assigned seat.
She laughs. “That wouldn’t exactly instill a lot of confidence in the other passengers, would it?”
I laugh. She’s sharp and has a good sense of humor, especially considering she just woke up.
“Not really,” I say, to which she laughs herself.
I move down the steps first, waiting at the bottom as she descends.
My hands follow her hips down incase she stumbles.
As her body moves, and my hands move with her, it’s so hard for me not to just grab her, spin her around right on the ladder while her head is about at my height, and kiss her hard.
But I can’t. If I lose it now, or tell her all the things I’ve been imagining as I sit up there flying the plane with miles of sky in front of me with nothing but a vivid imagination to entertain myself, she’d be so scared she’d probably jump out of the plane.
“Want to see the cockpit?” I ask, as she takes the last step down.
“Sure! I mean…if it’s allowed.”
“You’re allowed whatever you want. You just tell me.”
“Well…” she says bringing a finger up to her bottom lip as her eyes narrow, just before she laughs and then playfully slaps me on the arm…letting it rest there just a moment longer than what would be considered normal.
“We’re already up in the stars. I could grab a couple, and even the moon, if that’s what you wanted.”
What in the hell? Did I just say that? What’s gotten into me?
I know and the better question is when I’m going to get into her, and claim her as mine, because my ability to wait is quickly going out the window.
“Awww,” she says. “I’ll take a rain check on the stars, but I’m really interested in seeing the cockpit. That’s definitely on my bucket list, if I had one that is.”
“Cockpit is all yours, you just have to promise me you won’t touch anything,” I say.
“Of course,” she says.
What a hypocrite I am because I know once she’s in there my ability to resist touching her is going to go out the window.
“Okay. Can you just stand inside the toilet and wait for me to knock?”
“Stand inside the toilet in order to see the cockpit? This sounds like some weird trick to get a video that’s going to wind up on the Internet before we land.”
“Never. Sharing your beauty with the world is the dumbest thing a man could ever do. I…I mean it would be terrible to lock you up from the world, but the man who is lucky enough to have you should be smart enough to know exactly how lucky he is, and keep what’s his, his.”
Her head turns slowly to the side as her eyes narrow once again. She seems to be surveying me deeply, as I would a strange weather pattern that’s rapidly approaching.
And she’s right because I feel like a tornado right now that’s getting way too close to spinning out of control.
“Okay,” she says, taking a step backwards as she reaches for the horizontal doorknob behind her, sliding the door and stepping over the threshold. She does it all backwards, without taking her eyes off mine, my need causing me to subconsciously hold my breath until the door shuts.
I exhale hard, bending over at the waist not even realizing how much tightness and stress I’m bottling up inside.
Trying to control myself is going to stress me out so much I might even pass out if I keep this up. Not even all the G-force I ever experienced in those flight simulators knocked me out cold, but the pull she has on me is bringing me so close it’s dangerous.
After I’m breathing to a point where it doesn’t sound like I just ran a marathon going all out, I knock on the door and let Baptiste know he can proceed upstairs.
Once he passes by I shut the door and gently tap on the toilet door.
She opens it and I take her by the hand and break the number one rule of flying by taking her into the cockpit.
Am I guilty of breaking the golden rule? Yes.
Did she break all the rules by coming into my world and flipping it completely on its head? Yes.
Did they break the mold when they made her? Yes.
And that’s why she’s the exception to every rule…rules which were meant to be broken.
And I’m going to break if I don’t have her soon.
CHAPTER 7
Marie
“What does this button do?”
“No, no, no!” he says in his thick French accent, the husky notes echoing off the inside of the cockpit and making me feel it in my core.
“Got ya,” I say.
“You got me? I’m the one who’s gonna get you,” he says, reaching across the center console of knobs, buttons, and levers to tickle me right in the ribs.
“Hey!” I yell, writhing as I try and escape his long, thick fingers which seem to find my most ticklish spots.
I manage to move far enough away to escape, or more accurately he eases off me. There’s no way I could get away from those big, strong hands of his if he didn’t allow it. The more time I spend with him the more I want him to catch me and not let go.
“What is all
this?” I say, motioning to the center console between our two seats.
“That’s the transponder.”
Possessive Parisian Pilot: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 90) Page 3
