"You're a student?"
"Was. My big graduation moment was this morning, so I'm done." She smoothed down the short skirt of the dress she'd bought to wear under her gown and wished she'd thought to change into something more comfortable for the flight.
"And now the future awaits?"
"I guess."
"You already have something in mind?"
"Huh?" Between lack of sleep and two cognacs, Trish was feeling light-headed and a little spacey. She covered her mouth with her hand in a futile attempt to conceal a yawn. "Excuse me. It's been a long day."
"No problem. Why don't you put your seat back and close your eyes."
"Great idea," Trish murmured. She slipped off her shoes and pushed the seat back as far as it would go. A couple of hours of solid sleep and she'd be okay.
Closing her eyes, she leaned back, breathed deeply and tried to relax. It was cool on the plane, too cool for a sleeveless summer dress. She should have asked the attendant for a blanket, but they'd already turned the cabin lights off and with the movie just starting…
As her mind began to drift, she felt something light but warm envelope her from her chin to her toes. Gentle fingers tucked the covering securely around her body, and she moved down lower in her seat.
Flight attendants never had the time to baby the passengers in tourist class, so she figured Sir Galahad in the next seat must be her Good Samaritan. He looked like the type who enjoyed fussing over a woman, and she was enjoying it too much to tell him to stop.
The same gentle fingers lifted her head slightly and slipped a small pillow between her cheek and the seat back, and she gave a soft sigh of pure pleasure. Yeah, man! This was the kind of TLC every girl dreamed of. Though she'd had a couple of semi-serious relationships since high school, not one of the guys had been what she'd call caring. They'd all expected her to spend her time fussing over them rather than the other way around.
However, European men had a reputation of knowing exactly how to make a woman feel like a woman, and Trish wondered if she'd get the chance to find that out for herself. With summer just around the corner, the weather in Paris would be gorgeous, perfect for the kind of romantic adventures she had in mind. Maybe she'd meet someone-hopefully, an attentive and sexy, dark-eyed, dark-haired Adonis like her neighbor.
They'd stroll by the Seine, hand-in-hand, stopping every once in a while to kiss. Or they'd sit for hours at a sidewalk café, holding hands and staring into one another's eyes. Maybe they'd talk and maybe not. If it rained, they would go to a museum and pretend to be interested in the paintings or the other exhibits on display. If no one else happened to be around, he'd draw her into the shadows or a dark corner and hold her so close she'd hear the beat of his heart. And just maybe, if he happened to be really daring, his hand would slip beneath her skirt. He'd pull her panties aside, and she'd feel his fingers skim over her clit and venture up inside…and, oh, my God, yes! She felt a sudden rush of wetness between her legs.
Of course, this was just the appetizer. The long nights would be best of all! She experienced a tiny shiver of anticipation. So what if she wasn't very good at sex. It wasn't her fault all her experiences to date had revolved around the guy's satisfaction rather than her own. But she could learn. Everyone knew Frenchmen were great lovers, and with Paris being the city of love, all she had to do was find the right man and have him give her a few hands-on lessons.
She could see herself and her dream lover now, climbing up flight after flight of stairs until they reached his garret room on the top floor-a small, dark room with a single bed and…
With a soft groan, she moved even lower in the seat. He would remove whatever she was wearing…very slowly, piece-by-piece, until she was naked as the day she was born. Then he would pick her up in his arms and place her on his bed. After disposing of his own clothes, he would join her.
She felt his hands gliding over her skin, moving up her ribcage and gently squeezing her breasts until the nipples pebbled, demanding closer attention. She could feel his heat and smell his essence, and she felt an even bigger rush of wetness between her legs as his hand moved down, while his tongue eased her lips apart and entered her mouth.
His tongue was hard and inquisitive, tangling in an exciting, slippery tango with hers and then exploring her mouth with an attention to detail she'd never experienced before. It was like being swallowed alive, and as the oral assault continued, his fingers moved deeper inside her, slowly at first, and then faster and faster until…she felt as if she was sliding down and down, and couldn't stop…until suddenly the world shattered like a fragile glass ball.
She'd never experienced such a feeling before in her whole life. It was far better than anything she'd read about in a book, and so far outside her wildest imaginings she wanted to shout with joy and scream and…
A hand was slipped firmly over her mouth. "Shush," the man sitting next to her murmured-at least it sounded like him. "You were dreaming."
Dreaming? No way!
She opened her eyes a crack, lifted her head a little…and found herself nose to nose with her neighbor.
In quick succession she realized the armrest no longer separated them, she was practically lying on top of the man, and he had both his arms around her. Fortunately, they were partially covered with a blanket. Also, theirs were the only two seats in this section, the cabin lights were out to allow the passengers to sleep, and from the muffled snoring noises coming from in front and behind, it sounded as if most of them were fast asleep, thank God!
Trish knew she should probably be shoving the guy off and acting all outraged and self-righteous. And under any other circumstances, she most definitely would. But the man both intrigued her and turned her on, so why do something silly like that when she was, in fact, perfectly safe. What could possibly happen that she didn't want to happen in a plane filled with three hundred plus other passengers? She was also warm, relaxed and having one helluva good time.
Anyway, she'd wanted an adventure, and since one had literally fallen into her lap, she wasn't about to spoil things, especially as she was still trying to figure out if that sensational feeling she'd enjoyed had been part of an amazingly sexy dream, or if Sir Galahad had made it happen.
"Sorry if I woke you," she whispered.
"You didn't."
"No?"
He hitched the blanket up a few inches, and Trish realized the skirt of her dress was almost around her waist. She thought about pulling it down, but instead tucked her head against his chest and snuggled back into his warmth.
"You were shivering, so I thought I should do the gentlemanly thing and try my best to keep you warm."
"Really? That was nice of you."
"My pleasure entirely."
He began to stroke her bare thigh, his touch confident and intimate enough to fill her mind with images of the two of them dancing to soft music, or making love in a wide, soft bed. A delicious feeling of anticipation skipped over her skin, and she wondered what, if anything, he intended to do when the plane landed.