Vanessa Booke: Bound to You

“Yes, thank you. Excuse me.” I try to go, but the warmth of his touch returns as he captures my hand.

“Your name, you didn’t tell me it.” He’s smiling again. I blush as his touch sends goose bumps up my skin. The air grows warmer by the minute as his fingers rub circular motions across the skin of my wrist. I’ve never felt anything quite as erotic as this, and my clothes aren’t even off. I’m almost too willing to jump into his lap. My blush deepens at the thought of what he might feel like on top of me. Since when did I become so horny? I have to admit, sex has been the last thing on my mind since the disaster with Miles. I haven’t had the urge to be with anyone. Yet, right now, I can almost feel the sexual energy radiating off of him. There are just some men who scream sex, and he’s definitely one of them.

“My name is Rebecca,” I respond, nearly breathless.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Becca,” he says, kissing my hand. “I’m Nicholas.” His lips feel cool like ice water against my skin and I smile at the way he’s shortened my name. I don’t typically let anyone call me Becca, but I’m inclined to let this handsome stranger call me whatever he wants as long as he keeps touching me.

I cling to his chair as a sudden shift in the plane throws me off balance. The cabin rings signaling the plane’s stewardesses to check each passenger’s seatbelt. I should’ve gone back to my seat. I sway backwards almost losing my balance, but Nicholas grips my hand, pulling me back. I’m almost steady until the plane dips, pushing me straight into his lap. The sudden force of my body colliding into his sends his tablet flying onto the floor with a thud. He catches me by the waist, his fingers sliding down to my bottom. I know it isn’t intentional, but his touch is undeniably sensual.

“Are you all right?” he asks. A quiet concern shrouds his face. He doesn’t immediately let me go. He simply moves his hand to brush back a loose tendril from my face. The touch of his fingertips heats my skin like liquid fire. It spreads in a rapid rush of heat down my body, exposing me beneath his unrelenting stare. His grasp tightens around my waist, and for a moment I feel something hard poking me beneath my jeans. Is that? Oh my.

“I should get back to my seat before that stewardess has a heart attack,” I whisper. The sentence sounds more like a question than a statement.

“Stay.” His husky voice draws me in. There’s a slight accent to his voice, but I can’t quite place it. I’ve never been a snob about the guys I’ve dated, but there’s something about an accent that just makes women’s panties drop. It’s probably not the only thing about him that would turn me on. His eyes linger over me, watching me closely. If I knew I was going to meet the living Adonis on an airplane, I probably wouldn’t have been so afraid to fly. No, that’s probably a lie. I still would’ve been scared, but I definitely would’ve picked a cuter outfit.

Now, this beautiful Greek god has his hands on me and I can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to have them inside me. I reach up and stroke the hair that trails below his bottom lip. I want to know what it feels like to kiss him. It isn’t until I hear almost a low growl in his throat that I realize what I’m doing. Jesus, Rebecca. You’re fondling a complete stranger. I pull back my hand, but he immediately brings it back to his lips. He takes my fingers and slowly kisses them. I inhale sharply as he runs his beard on the inside of my wrist. For some reason, it feels unexpectedly intimate, as if we’re old lovers, and despite the cloistered space around us, it feels like the whole world is watching.

He stops and looks up at me before leaning in. His mouth captures mine in a heated kiss. I’m hesitant, as he starts to slowly nibble my bottom lip, gently making his way to the top one. The sensation of his hands grazing my breast causes me to moan. He traces his thumb along my neckline and I give in to his kiss. A whirlwind of lust passes through my body and I instantly grow wet. He pulls me closer, and soon I’m so enraptured by the feeling of his mouth on me that I forget what it feels like to breathe. A strange electric charge dissipates as we pull apart. I smile inwardly at the realization that he’s panting almost as much as me.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, staring down at me.

His question makes me uneasy. Not because it’s too personal, but because what I’m thinking about involves him undressing me. He’s a stranger. Someone I’ll never see again, and right now I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. Maybe part of moving on means doing things you wouldn’t normally do. Like hooking up with handsome strangers 40,000 feet in the air, or maybe I’m just trying to numb my pain. It’s time to stop living in a fantasy.

“It was nice meeting you, but I do need to get back to my seat,” I whisper, unwinding myself from him.

“If you insist,” he says with a polite smile. I want to tell him thank you, but telling him thank you for the kiss sounds way too awkward in my head. I can only imagine what it would sound like if I actually said it.

“I hope to see you around,” he says.

“Me too.”

I’ll never see him again, and while I really wish I could spend the rest of the plane ride with him up here, it would be a mistake. It’s been less than a month since Miles. I don’t need to go chasing someone else. I just need to be alone. I don’t want to be one of those girls who always need a guy on her arm to feel complete. I don’t want prince charming to come save me and fix everything. I want to save myself.

I leave without asking for his number and he doesn’t stop me to ask for mine. Disappointment creeps into the back of my mind. I’m not sure what I was hoping for. This isn’t some romantic comedy where the gorgeous playboy falls in love with the shy curvy girl. My grandmother used to have a saying. What’s yours, no one else can take. I guess if it’s meant to be maybe I’ll meet him again one day, but for now I’m happy with the calmness that he’s enveloped me in. I hold onto it as I make my way back to my seat and fall asleep for the rest of the trip.

I don’t wake again until I hear the sound of the captain announcing that we will be landing at the JFK airport in less than 15 minutes. After flying over 3,000 miles in a cramped, overbooked airplane, I’m more than anxious to be on the ground again. Four hours of flying is exhausting and I am definitely mentally drained. I keep reminding myself that it’s all worth it. Soon I’ll be in the big city and thus begins my journey of trying to land a job at StoneHaven Publishing. With a little luck, by this time next month, I’ll be working and living in my own apartment. New York, here I come.

The airport is buzzing as I make my way over to the baggage claim area. I’m glad I didn’t listen to my mom when she suggested that I take a later flight. With the unpredictable East Coast weather, I’ve already lost more than a day stuck at the Dallas airport in Texas. To my dismay, I did not see Mr. Tall, Blonde, and Sexy as I exited the plane, but that’s actually probably a good thing.

“Rebecca!”

I spot Carol standing near the drop-off section just outside of the JFK airport. Her short, blonde pixie cut from college is replaced with long strands of brown hair pulled into a perfectly set bun. I smile as she pushes up her stylish glasses and heads my way. I have to admit she looks stunning. She makes wearing a bun look like fashion chic. I think I’ve always been jealous of the way confidence just seems to ooze out of her. I peek down at my raggedy jeans, Chuck Taylors, and my $10 T-shirt, slightly embarrassed at just how plain I look.