Falling asleep has always been a challenge for me. I lie awake thinking about things that don’t always make sense.

Pondering.

Worrying.

Wondering, what if.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned off the ‘fasten seat belt’ sign, and you may now move around the cabin.”

Confused, I open my eyes.

No way. I fell asleep…and on a plane.

That has never happened.

Yet, as I look around, it’s obvious that time has passed. The cabin lights are dimmed, seats are reclining, and the flight attendant is just approaching my row with a tray of drinks.

Surprised by the quiet, I look toward my seatmate. His eyes are closed and his hand is gripping the armrest just below mine.

Hmmm… either he’s really tired or he doesn’t like flying either.

Against my better judgment, I take this time to study him more clearly. His dark, thick eyelashes are beautiful. The scruff on his face looks as intentional as his messy hair, and just as mouth-watering. I might have been wearing my wine goggles earlier, but right now I know he is fine.

“Here you go.” The bubbly Tiffany hands me another glass of wine.

“Thank you,” I answer, trying to be quiet while I pull down my own tray table.

My seatmate’s eyes open.

Tiffany looks at him with a huge smile. “Here’s your beer, sir.”

“Thank you,” he says in a super-sexy, gravelly voice.

I consider whether I should close my eyes again and avoid any further conversation, or talk to him and see where this goes, if anywhere.

Just then, perhaps still a little groggy, he sets his bottle on my tray table and stretches. God, the power he seems to command in the small space has me tingling from head to toe. And again, I find myself staring at that body of his.

When his arms return to his sides, his hips surge forward. I can’t help it. My eyes go straight to his crotch. Oh my God, what is he doing?

Kegels?

How bad is it that I join in?

One.

Two.

Three.

The moan that escapes my mouth snaps me back to reality.

Enough is enough. I need to unplug from this situation before anything else embarrassing happens. Yet, I can’t. All I can think about is scratch number ten of the list—here is my chance to go back and check off number four instead.

And he has to be all for it.

Right?

After all, he’s doing pelvic exercises to improve his stamina in this game. They say you can do them anywhere. And he seems to subscribe to that philosophy. He obviously doesn’t realize I’m watching him.

That voice is smooth like molasses and startles me from my sex thoughts. “I think this belongs to you.”

My gaze darts from his hips to his hands.

He’s holding my iPod, which had been under his butt.

Okay, so he wasn’t doing Kegels.

I forgot all about that little thing.

My mind is still replaying the way his hips moved, and my delayed reaction gives him enough time to turn it on. My earphones must still be on his seat because as soon as he swipes across the screen, “Like a Virgin” blares through the cabin.

Seriously, could this flight get any worse?

My seatmate is grinning like the cat that just ate the canary. “Eighties? Wow, I didn’t think anyone listened to that anymore.”

To that I have no defense, and the truth sounds better than any concocted lie. “It’s on my Songs About Me playlist,” I admit.

He grins even harder as the lyrics continue to play.

Without hesitation, I pluck my iPod from his grip and turn it off. “What can I say—I love Madonna. Hair pulled back in a bow, black tank tops, necklaces, and bracelets are my thing.”

Accessories are my thing.

A brow rises, slightly, but I catch it and those little butterfly wings start batting against my belly again. “Your thing, huh?” He seems to ponder that for a moment; either that or he is picturing me singing the song.

My whole body tightens at the thought of doing just that—for him.

And we already know my singing skills need improvement.

Leaning toward me, he tries to snatch my iPod back. “Can I see what else is on your Songs About Me playlist?” He stresses the words songs about me, but not in a way meant to make fun of it, more in an I’m really interested in this tone.

I shake my head no.

“Come on, hand it over. Otherwise, how am I going to learn what else is your thing?”

With a slight shrug meant to be sexy, I answer, “That’s top-secret information. If I tell you, I might have to kill you.” And then I tuck my iPod, along with my book, in the seat pocket in front of me.

The flirty, sassy side of me is back.

I like it.

“That’s a chance I’ll have to take.” My seatmate is determined, and he swoops his hand right over my tray table but instead of snatching my iPod, he takes my book.

The cabin is dark, really dark, so I don’t bother to try to retrieve it. He won’t be able to read. But like I said, he seems determined and solves that problem rather quickly.

Turning the overhead light on, he grabs the bag of M&M’s, opens them, pours them on my table, then leans closer to me.

I sip my wine and watch him as he separates the M&M’s in two piles. I like the way he moves with determination. It’s a turn-on.

When he’s done, he picks up his bottle.

I look down and see he’s given me all the dark M&M’s and taken the colored ones for himself.

“Do I want to know?” I ask in amusement, pointing to the two piles.

Taking a sip of his beer, he grins. “Just making sure you don’t end up with any of the green ones. You know what they say about those.”

My eyes fixate on the way the liquid goes down his throat, the way his Adam’s apple moves as he swallows, the way his chest rises and falls. Picking up one of his green M&M’s, I look at him and pop it into my mouth. “I do know what they say.”

That intake of breath is unmistakable.

Settling beside me, he tosses a few in his mouth from my pile and starts reading. “‘By not telling one of the men to leave her beach house that night, she knew she was inviting both to stay. Summer closed her eyes at the realization. She was fine with it. She was going to do it. Within mere seconds, four hands covered her. She couldn’t tell which belonged to whom. She didn’t care. Together the three of them worked to remove her clothes, and finally she let the men whisk away her panties. Completely bare, Summer willingly spread her legs and allowed the men to devour her.’”

I squeeze my thighs together. Wow. Who would have thought a guy reading to you would be such a turn-on?

My seatmate’s cheeks look a little flushed. His voice sounds a little raspier, too, and yet he continues to read. Upon finishing chapter one, he pauses to take a sip from his bottle and then looks over at me. “This is good stuff. You are a very interesting person.”

My breathing a little erratic, I ask, “What do you mean?”

His laugh is low and slow and a little drowsy. “Going from a virgin to porn in an instant.”

Now my flush is creeping up my chest and turning my face pink. “It’s not like that. I’m trying to find myself. Who I want to be. Should be. Who I really am. Maybe who I used to be.”

I should add that this novel is considered erotica, not porn, but I don’t. Does it really matter? Either way, the air between us is almost dripping with sexual tension.

My comment seems to hit somewhere deep within himself. For a moment, his face goes blank. “I get it,” he tells me before resuming his slouched position close to me.

So close.

So hot.

I can barely breathe.

A pocket of turbulence doesn’t even make me panic. In fact, the plane ride has been a little rocky this entire time and I’m not bothered by it in the least.

In half a minute our arms are touching again and our faces are soon very, very close as he whisper-reads to me. By the time he gets to chapter three, we’ve each consumed two more drinks and eaten the entire bag of M&M’s.

We shared the green ones.

My seatmate’s voice continues to melt me as he turns mere words into gooey caramel. “‘It had been a month, not quite midsummer but almost, and Summer had gotten used to having two men in her bed. She took Gabe’s well-accustomed length into her mouth, her hands gripping his base to set the pace. She always had control. His fingers twisted in her hair but were never forceful. The men knew the rules. Gabe liked to test her, though. And he did so when he pushed his hips forward. His cock was longer, but not as thick as Owen’s. Even blindfolded, Summer knew it was him by this one simple fact. Besides, he was always more anxious. Secretly pleased, still she made him wait and surged her hips forward. While Owen buried his face in her pussy and ate her like he was feasting on her, she took her time with Gabe, drawing out his orgasm until he begged.’”

As crazy as it sounds, I find myself mouthing the words along with him. Pausing just before Summer has her climax, I have to lick my lips. My throat feels so dry.

Our breathing is very loud. His and mine. It seems to combine and could quite possibly be combustible.

My seatmate makes a noise and bites down on his lower lip. I catch a flash of teeth when he does. His hair has also fallen forward, and it shields his gaze. Sitting up straighter, he closes his eyes and shuts the book. “I think we should stop for a while.”

“Yes,” I tell him in a hoarse, low voice I wish didn’t shake.

This thing developing between us can go nowhere. We’re strangers who will never see each other again. Still, I feel like that doesn’t matter. I don’t want to worry about that. I don’t want to know his name or where he lives. I only want to live in the moment.

Free.

Easy.

Never the aggressor, I find myself being one. I envision myself as Summer from the novel and lean in toward my seatmate. His eyes are closed and I stare at his gorgeous profile. I’m not touching him anymore, but I can still feel his warmth against me. This close, I can smell his scent. I breathe it in for a moment and I swear I can taste him. The urge to do so has never been greater. Just stick out my tongue and lick him like a lollipop. Wonder if he’d mind? Oh, God, the thought has me gasping for air. The noise I make isn’t intentional, but loud enough that he opens his eyes.

He breathes out, “Do you want…?” He leaves the question dangling.

Yes. I want.

I swallow. Nod. Then nod again. He shivers. Looks at me. Looks around. No one is across from us. No one can see us. Closing my tray table, I find myself moving even closer, drawn to him in a way I can’t explain. Still, he doesn’t move. Uncertain I read the signs right, I start to lean back in my seat. He captures my wrist, and I let him pull me close.

Inches apart, I look into his eyes and make certain he sees that I want what he wants. Hot, sweaty sex, no strings attached.

Reaching up, he turns the overhead light off. Now we’re in the dark. I can’t be certain who initiates the next bit. Him? Me? Who knows? All I know is that my hand is on his cock and his is over my hand. Even beneath the fabric of his jeans, I can feel his erection. It’s so big. Hard, long, and thick. And big. Did I mention that?

Losing myself in the feel of him, I’m helpless to do anything but move forward. To do this thing I had never truly envisioned myself doing. I’m not a prude or anything, but I usually wait until the third date to do anything below the waist.

Angling just right so no one can see us, he takes my free hand and puts it behind his neck. I find my fingers instantly curling around his soft locks. And my fingers seem to have a mind of their own—tugging a little, and a little more. So unlike me. Summer must have me all riled up. When I tug again, he grits his teeth and makes a strangled gasp. That feeling of déjà vu hits me once again. I can’t place it. I don’t want to try. I don’t care, because I’ve never felt like this before. So powerful. Like every touch I make arouses this man more and more.

A hand cups my breast. His palm is warm. He brushes a finger across my nipple. I’m so excited, I think I might need mouth-to-mouth. When the pace of my breathing picks up with his slightest touch, I have to close my eyes.

“Look at me,” he demands.

In an instant, I do.

Seconds pass. Neither of us moves. Somehow sitting here in the dark cabin, saying nothing, with our bodies touching feels as if it is the most natural thing in the world.

My mind is racing.

I wonder if his is, too.

My pulse is pounding.

I know his is, too.

I want to say something.

I don’t.

Desire runs thick through my veins.

What do we do next?

I wish Maggie were here so I could get her advice.

Finally, I speak. “What are,” I ask with a quaking, shaking voice, “we doing?”

As if he’s been holding all the air in his lungs, the breath hisses out of him. “Acting out the scene in the book. You’re Summer, and why don’t you pretend I’m Gabe.”

“Not Owen?” I rasp, totally turned on right now.

His grin melts me. “It’s a hard choice; I’d like to think I’m both men combined. How about I let you decide?”

At that my blush turns scarlet red. His words come across so cocky, I should laugh at him, but instead I find myself so wanting to find out.

When it comes to men, I literally have no moves. But something about the night’s events has coalesced into a temporary insanity, on my end anyway, and I find myself unable to shake the thought of having him inside me.

Just like the way you can be standing at the edge of the high dive one second thinking to yourself, I can’t do this, it’s too high, and the next thing you know, you’ve overcome your fear of heights and you’re jumping without actually realizing you’ve jumped...I lean over to kiss him.

I know better.

A girl should never be the first to kiss a boy.

Everyone knows that.

So what happens shouldn’t surprise me. Just before I pass the threshold of the armrest, my seatmate abruptly unbuckles his seat belt and stands up. “I need to use the lavatory.”

Is that a sign?

What Maggie told me to do, is he is doing it?

No wink or nod, no “join me,” but still it’s close.

I wait a few minutes. Make sure the coast is clear. And then stand and follow in his path. My anxiety has increased tenfold. My whole body is trembling. I don’t even know him.

“That’s the point!” I can hear Maggie’s voice screaming at me.

She’s right. This is exciting. Naughty even. I’ve never had sex in a public place. Is it bad that I’m wet just thinking about it? About him.

Did I just think that?

Now I’m doing more than thinking, I’m picturing that big cock I just felt, wondering if he will even fit inside me.

What if he doesn’t?

Or what if he doesn’t have a condom?

Worse, what if I read the signs all wrong?

Reaching the lavatory, the sign reads, ‘Occupied’.

I can’t go in.

I have to wait.

I’m at a crossroads…I can go the uptight path or the let my hair down and live a little path. Either wait for him to open the door or bolt back to my seat and pretend to sleep for the rest of the flight.

Which is it going to be?