I’m just about to lift my other leg up over him when I lose my balance and fall forward, landing in his lap with a thud.
Shit.
His eyes fly open, his head jerks up, and there we sit: face to face, mere inches apart, me literally straddling his lap as my dress rides up my exposed thighs. Boy, am I glad I shaved my legs.
He stares at me without saying anything, his chocolate-brown eyes wide with surprise. I’m still feeling so out of it with the gin racing through my veins that it takes me a second to react. My body responds first, doubling my heart rate and sending a flurry of butterflies into my abdomen. Before I can say anything, his eyes crease in amusement and he chuckles.
“Well. Hello there.”
His deep American accent rolls over me and my gaze drops to his mouth as it curves into a bewildered smile. When I run my eye along his sharp jawline, a wave of heat rushes up my body, catching me off-guard. It’s such an unfamiliar sensation that I almost don’t recognize it.
Oh.Oh.
“Would you like a hand to your seat?”
“Oh my God,” I mutter, my cheeks flaming as I come to my senses. Here he was, enjoying a quiet moment in the middle of the afternoon, and I go and hurl myself into his lap. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to bother you.” I pick myself up and, with as much grace as possible, hold down my dress as I haul my other leg over him. Then I sink into my seat, pressing my eyes shut in mortification.
So much for making it through the flight with my dignity intact.
He chuckles again. “That’s quite alright.”
Stuffing my bag under the seat in front of me, I try to stop my head from spinning. I busy myself with the safety instructions while the plane fills and we wait to take off, but my pulse is erratic and the images all blur together. No one else joins our row and I can’t bring myself to look at the guy next to me in case I blush all over again. By the time we are heading down the runway, I’m no longer sure if it’s the alcohol that’s making me so light-headed, or something else entirely.
* * *
Once the planeis in the air, I release my vice-like grip on the armrest. At least I didn’t grab the poor guy’s hand during take-off, but that’s little consolation after giving him a lap dance.
I’m still buzzing from my martini but the humiliation has really taken the fun out of it. On the plus side, this whole thing has served as a welcome distraction from flying.
Then, as I’m about to put my earphones in and try to forget it all, I drop them. On the floor. Between this guy and me.
Oh forfuck’ssake.
I look down at the narrow crack between our almost-touching knees and sigh. I don’t want to spend the next three hours sitting here in silence and I’m too wired to read. I was hoping to watch a film.
I sneak a glance out of the corner of my eye and notice the guy beside me has leaned his head back and closed his eyes again.
Right. Good.
Slipping my right hand down between our knees, I lean over, acutely aware that my head is hovering over his crotch as I grope at the floor.
Where are the damn earphones? I could have sworn they were down here…
A muffled laugh comes from above me, just as my hand grasps the cord on the floor. I snatch it up and curl back into my seat, afraid to make eye contact. I might burst into flames.
“Don’t you think we should at least exchange names first?”
OhGod. Why doesn’t my seat come with an ejector button?
“Sorry,” he mumbles, when I don’t respond. “Inappropriate joke.”
I hazard a glance at him and notice his cheeks are crimson. Good to know I’m not the only one finding this situation so awkward.
I summon a smile. “It’s okay. Sorry, I dropped my earphones. And sorry, er, about earlier.”
He smiles back, the color disappearing from his cheeks and his confidence restored. “No problem. It’s not everyday a pretty lady throws herself into my lap.”
I bite my lip and look down at the tangled cord in my hand. Is it my imagination, or is he flirting?
