by Kim Linwood
Then he comes through the door.
Montana is a big guy, and more than that, he has an aura of “don’t fuck with me” that seems to grant him some breathing room. Like people just know to leave him a little bubble of space. Even he’s trapped like a sardine until the aisle opens up, though.
He looks my way, spots me and smiles. I melt into my seat, pretending to pay attention to my book. A minute goes by. He’s still there.
My foot starts tapping, and I read the same four lines over and over, but it’s like my brain isn’t processing them. It’s busy making up all sorts of ridiculous reasons to sneak more peeks at the muscular hunk waiting in line. Then I glance at the seat next to me, empty because Franco couldn’t make it.
Would it be crazy to offer it to him? I imagine him cramming himself into an economy seat like a giant into a clown car.
It’s the nice thing to do, and not at all a decision I’m making based on my ovaries. I look up and he’s still there, watching me.
Fuck it.
I don’t know him and I’ll probably never see him again after this flight, but what the hell, right? My “babysitter” isn’t around, so I might as well have fun while I can.
I climb over Franco’s seat and into the aisle, where I can walk back to speak to Montana. “What seems to be the hold up?”
He glances at the throng of people. “Human nature, physics and an unfortunate lack of upper body strength.”
With a grin, I gesture at my seats. “Would you like to skip the line?”
“Are you offering to trade?” he asks incredulously.
“Oh, God no.” I shudder at the thought. “But I do happen to have an extra.”
“Do you always book multiple first class seats?”
I laugh. “No, believe it or not, I’m not quite that spoiled. My… friend couldn’t make the flight. Today you may play the role of Franco.”
“Your friend Franco, hm? Alright, I’m game.” He follows me back to my seat and stuffs a black leather bag into the overhead compartment. Then he takes off his jacket.
Wow.
I’m not the only woman on the plane watching him flex as he wrangles it off his shoulders, folds it and reaches up to push it in next to his bag. A wave of estrogen drifts down the cabin at the sight of his pin-striped shirt stretched tight across his upper back. The top couple buttons are open, exposing a tan glimpse of chest.
I’m so distracted I almost miss his question. “What?”
“Your friend. Is he the type of friend that would mind you offering his seat to your new fiancé?”
“Franco? Hardly. Not only is he my cousin, he’s also busy dealing with food poisoning. I doubt he’d mind.” Or at least he wouldn’t mind in the way Montana means. I’m pretty sure Franco would have an aneurysm at the thought of me chatting up a stranger.
Montana slides into the seat next to mine with a contented sigh. “So why are you headed to London?”
“Have to get back to classes. I was home for Dad’s birthday. Oddly enough that’s not a big holiday in England.”
He chuckles. “You go to school in London?”
“No, Durham actually. Further north, almost to Scotland. Going to get some shopping in, then take the train tomorrow.”
“Nice, sounds like fun.”
“You?” I blurt out. “I mean, why are you headed to London?”
“Family business,” he grumbles cryptically.
Before I can drill him for more information, Stephanie—the flight attendant who was giving me trouble at the gate—stomps over. “Sir, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to go to your assigned seat.”
I’m nice.
Really, I am. In spite of getting snippy with this lady at the gate, and okay, a little bitchy with Montana’s stalker, I’m generally a very live and let live sort of person. It’s just that you can’t grow up with my family and not develop a bit of an attitude.
I wave my hand to get her attention. “It’s fine, he’s with me.”
“I was under the impression you were traveling alone today.” She purses her lips like she just caught me in the scam of the century.
“I was, but obviously now I’m not.”
“Yes, but—”
“We both have seats on this plane and have gone through check in. I’m simply offering my friend here the use of my unused seat. It is paid for, right? Or has your airline generously decided to refund my money?”
“No, but—”
I stand up and gesture down at Montana. “Look at him. Does he look like he’ll fit into an economy seat to you?”
Her eyes rake him over with so much enthusiasm I start to regret the way I phrased that. I found him first, lady.
I snap my fingers. “I said look, not ogle.”
Montana chokes, but it’s Stephanie that turns red. “That’s not how it works.”
“It’s how it works today. Or do I need to get someone on the phone to help clear this up?”
She hates me. I can see it written all over her face as she swallows her anger and prepares to play nice. I’m exactly the type of self-entitled rich traveler that they need to suck up to to make money, but hate dealing with.
“What’s it going to be, Steph?”
Other passengers are starting to look. We’re in first class so they’re pretending not to, but they aren’t doing a very good job at it.
I bet because I’m younger than her, she thought she could get petty with me and I’d fold, but DiFieros don’t fold, and if she wants to bring it, I’ll live up to every short fused Italian stereotype there is.
“Of course, Ma’am. It’s your seat, and like you said, everything is already paid for.” She holds her hands up in capitulation and moves away. “Sir, would you like anything to drink?”
I’m never getting one of those little packs of crackers again if she has her way.
I can live with that.
Montana orders a beer, and I plop back into my seat. He turns to me. “You weren’t kidding when you said I wouldn’t need a receipt.”
I really wasn’t. “Oh, don’t start.”
“It’s fucking hot.”
“Really?” I peek up at him through my curtain of wavy, brown hair.
“Really. That’s twice in one day you’ve come to my rescue. I’m man enough to admit it has a certain appeal.”
“Come on, it’s not like I really did anything. If any dragons need slaying I’m pretty sure you’d be a lot better at it than me.” I give his muscular arm a poke, then flop mine dramatically like it’s made of rubber.
“Unless it’s a lady dragon,” he teases.
“Fine, you have a point. So I think that means you owe me.”
“Oh? What sort of a reward were you thinking of?” His voice goes soft, and all of a sudden our conversation takes a drastic turn for the sexy.
“A kiss?” I throw out before I can change my mind.
He leans closer. “Just a kiss?”
My entire life I’ve been a bird in a gilded cage. The only freedom I’ve had has been the last few years in Durham, and I think the only reason I was granted that was because my father understands how important it is for me to get away, at least for a while.
If my friends at the university knew about my family, they’d freak out. They don’t know that my friend Franco is really there to guard me, and if they found out that the “accident” my last boyfriend ended up in wasn’t all that accidental, they’d never speak to me again. It’s not like he died or anything, but I’m pretty sure Nigel learned his lesson.
You can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your Family.
Except, for the next eight hours no one is watching me. There’s nobody to report back to my parents, and no car following suspiciously behind us.
I close the distance between me and Montana. “How about we start with a kiss, and see where it goes from there.”
A slow, sexy grin spreads across his face as he reaches over and wraps his fingers in my hair. “Alright.�
�
“Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts. Straighten your chairs and put your trays in the upright position or fold them down next to your seat if you're in first class. Thank you.”
The lights shut off as the plane taxis from the gate, just as our lips meet.
This time he does slip me tongue, and I was right, he really knows what he’s doing.
3
Andrea
Stephanie rolls by with a cart and takes away what’s left of our dinner. With Montana, she’s all smiles and friendly chatter, but all I get is a judgmentally arched eyebrow and a spoon dropped in my lap.
Jealous much?
It’s the middle of the night back in Chicago, but high above the Atlantic, the plane keeps us in artificial daytime until the crew’s done cleaning up. As soon as things are stowed away, the overhead lights dim and travelers settle in to either entertain themselves for a few hours, or try to get some sleep. Outside my window, darkness has nearly eaten away the dim glow of the sunset on the horizon, leaving only the sparkle of stars.
“So—”
“Have—”
Montana and I speak at the same time, stumbling over each other. I grin and motion for him to go first.
“You must fly a lot if you go to school in England. Do you always go first class?”
“I suppose.” I shrug, hedging a little since talking about money has a tendency to make people weird. “It’s not like I go home every weekend, but summer and all the big holidays, definitely. Why?”
He glances around. “There’s a lot more privacy up here than back in economy.”
“True. It makes it easier to get work done.”
The seats are arranged in pairs and angled slightly. Even if the older couple across from us weren’t already snoring with their blindfolds on and their neck pillows in place, there would be quite a bit of privacy compared to the movie theater style seating in the rest of the plane.
“Right, work.” Montana smirks.
“What?”
“I’m just saying, you hear a lot of stories about the mile high club, and packed into economy, I’ve always wondered what the appeal was. I think I’m starting to get it.” He raises an eyebrow and his smile takes on a seductive curve.
“The mile high…”
“Yeah, it means—”
“I know exactly what it means!” I exclaim louder than intended, and glance around. Nobody seems to be paying any attention to us, even though it feels like a big red spotlight should’ve just landed on our seats. “I just… seriously?”
His perfect smile widens.
This is where he’s supposed to laugh because he’s obviously teasing, and then we make awkward small talk for about the next hour until he politely falls asleep to put me out of my misery. I can see it now. I’ll pretend to read the Canterbury Tales, while secretly going over all of the things I should’ve said to show him how fun and interesting I am.
Or… I could do something crazy.
“I hear it’s a very exclusive club.” My fingers play nervously with the buttons for the music channels.
He nods sagely. “It is. Membership applications are only being accepted for the next,” he glances at the flight info on the screen in front of him, “five hours.”
Could I really?
The thought is terrifying, but kindles a tingly rush of excitement I’ve never felt before. Being stuck with my family for this past weekend was like wearing a straitjacket, but the buckles are off, and for once, I’m totally on my own. Even considering the idea makes me feel wild, and yet more in control of my own life than ever.
Still, really?
Montana slides a finger under my chin and tips my face up so I’m looking into his eyes. Were there always flecks of amber warming their deep brown depths? Or is he burning with the same feeling that threatens to take my breath away?
“Everyone thinks you’re a good girl, don’t they? But I think there’s a bad girl hiding in there,” he whispers. “Do you ever let her out to play?”
“No.” I can’t look away.
His hand lands lightly on my leggings, just below the hem of my skirt. “Would you like to?”
I shift in my seat, unintentionally sliding his hand closer to the inside of my thigh, where it sits, warm and incredibly persuasive. The flight attendants have retreated to wherever they go when they turn off the lights, and my seat really is quite private by the window.
Bands of anxiety and anticipation squeeze my chest. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “Convince me.”
Montana’s hand tightens around my thigh and he leans close. My breath comes faster, and my lips part, waiting for him to kiss me. Instead, he brushes past and whispers into my ear. “Lose the tights.”
Holy cannoli. This is nuts.
But it doesn’t stop me from slipping off my ballet flats, and sliding my hands under my dress while making sure nothing’s exposed. After a quick glance to make sure the coast is clear, I hook my thumbs into the elastic band at my waist and quickly wiggle until my leggings are off. Thank goodness for cheerleading. We practically made a sport out of fast changing on game day during the cold months.
“Panties too,” he whispers again as I tuck my leggings into my purse. My shocked expression makes him grin.
It’s the point of no return. Another glance around the cabin, then I draw a deep breath and start tugging. Just as I ease them past my butt, he presses his lips against mine and kisses me hard.
I totally lose track of what I’m doing, my panties forgotten around my thighs as Montana wraps his fingers in my hair and pulls me to him. I hardly even notice his other hand finishing the job, just the heat of his palm sliding slowly down my leg in a long, hot caress.
“What if someone sees?” I whisper against his lips. I’m already on Stephanie’s shitlist. All it would take is one wrong move and I’ll be traveling via cargo ship until I graduate.
“What are they going to do?” he murmurs. “Throw us off the plane?”
I clench my legs together as his hand moves higher up my thigh. “They could. I mean, not in midair, obviously, but they could drop us off in like… Greenland or something.”
Montana’s stubble scrapes pleasantly against my cheek. “Stop thinking so hard. We’re not hurting anyone.” His teeth nip my earlobe and he tugs softly. “Relax, beautiful.”
Slow, wet heat spreads through my center. There’s a sexy rasp in his voice that makes me shiver, and my body obeys, even if the quiet voice of reason in the back of my head says I’m bonkers. My legs relax, and his hand slides up my thigh until it brushes against my core.
“You're so goddamn wet.”
My eyes close as he slides a thick finger between my folds. Whatever he does for a living has left his hands neat and clean, but rough with use. I don’t know anything about this man, but do I need to? I know I love the way it feels as he traces a slick path from my clit to just barely into me and back. My hips jerk, wanting more.
Suddenly he shifts, squaring his back to the aisle though he never removes his finger. Then he says in a loud voice, “And that’s how they milk goats in Peru. Crazy, right?”
What?
Less than a second later, Stephanie, my nemesis, walks by. She throws a glare in my direction, but the way Montana has positioned himself, she can’t see what’s going on between us.
Not that he’s stopped moving his finger.
I catch my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to keep a straight face as Stephanie passes by again, disappearing towards the front. A moan struggles to get free as Montana’s finger slips deeper, only to be joined by a second.
“If you don’t stop, I’m gonna…” My train of thought derails as he pumps faster.
He chuckles. “If I don't stop what? This?”
The swift slippery motion of his fingers speeds up, not just fucking me, but also curling around and rubbing over my swollen clit. My fingers clutch the armrests and my entire body is wound tight as a spring.
I�
��m desperate to come, but terrified of getting caught, and I want more from him than a quick handjob. “Not here. Everyone will hear.”
Montana slows, but doesn’t let up. “Is my bad girl a screamer?” he teases into my ear.
“N—No, but…”
But I’d scream for him if he let me.
“But what? Tell me.”
The big, sexy jerk, he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Is he going to make me say it too?
“Tell me, Andrea.” His fingers slip out, and I can’t tell if I’m relieved or disappointed.
A fingertip brushes over my lips, and I smell the sweet scent of my own juices. Without a word, he kisses me passionately. My hips grind against the seat. I need to come.
Montana pulls away and gives me a sexy wink. “Delicious.”
If I could melt into a puddle of embarrassed frustration, I’d do it right now.
He grins and nods his head towards the front of the cabin. “Go to the bathroom and wait for me. I’ll tap twice, then three times.”
Oh my God.
Utterly amazed that I’m still going along with this, I nod and slip on my flats. My legs are unsteady, but I smooth down my skirt and try to act casual on my way forwards. It’s a good thing everyone is either asleep, or engrossed in something, because I don’t feel very convincing.
Even without looking, I can feel Montana’s dark gaze on me until I reach my destination. There’s a curtain pulled in front of the crew area, and no one’s looking. I put my hand on the handle.
This is real. I’m actually doing it.
I pull open the door and go inside, heart pounding so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t wake everyone up. Closing the door in a hurry before anyone sees me, I push the lock shut, causing the light to flicker on.
A girl I hardly recognize looks back at me from the mirror, her wavy hair tousled, her cheeks flushed and her lips red from kissing.
This isn’t me at all, but just this once, for this one flight, I want to be that girl.
