Shit. 

She’d left her headphones on her nightstand. 

Along with her wedding ring, the keys to the apartment. She’d thought about leaving the rent due next week too, but the spite and jealousy mingling with her need to count every penny, to save for her new life won out. She tucked the little cash she’d saved in her purse beside her new license before shutting the door behind her so quietly it was like she’d never been there. Besides, she couldn’t stand to look at the check that put his name above hers. 

It came too close to echoing real life. Her dreams shoved below his training, his promotion, his new company.

His. His. His. 

The life she was leaving wasn’t hers. Her life had been on hold, waiting for her, four hours from her grasp.

Her life where she would pay her own rent, take out student loans in her own name. It was exciting, yes. But death-defyingly terrifying as well. A whole new coast, new school, new name.

So much new.

She tapped her feet and watched as each passenger played luggage Tetris with the overhead compartments, most of them losing. 

Those headphones sure would have come in handy for the next few hours. 

When a fleshy woman with sunburnt cheeks met her gaze, Hannah smiled and was met with kind eyes and a smile in return. 

“I’m the window seat,” the woman said, not unkindly, hefting her oblong suitcase into the last remaining space in the aft-most compartment. 

Hannah got up from her middle seat, taking her phone with her. It was all she’d cared to keep out of her carry-on luggage, the only tether to her old life she couldn’t sever. They’d started Game of Thrones together, and dammit, she’d finish that small promise they’d made to each other with or without him. 

Except now she didn’t have headphones, making the four-hour flight ahead of her seem more like an obligation than an adventure. 

Until the adventure towered over her, his head almost touching the center of the aisle. His shadow is what brought Hannah’s gaze up before she hit “send” on another vague “new life, new me” social media post. 

Tall didn’t begin to cover the reason she couldn’t look away once she’d clapped eyes on him. 

His jaw was cut from stone, a Lannister jaw, but with darker features framing it. A Latin Lannister. The connection sent shivers down her spine, pooled moisture between her legs in a place that hadn’t been touched by anyone—Latin or otherwise—in too long. 

“Ma’am?” And damn. That voice. Like the air in summer in Minnesota—lazy, thick, oozing with sensuality. 

“Yes?” Hannah replied. She was trying for cool, laid back. Independent. What came out was shrill, operatic in pitch.

“Not you, miss. Excuse me, Laura?”

Hannah sunk into her chair, mortification rising up her cheeks, giving her the impression of a cartoon character who’d eaten a pepper. She knew she was lipstick-red, knew it in the way she had become acutely aware of her body’s betrayals over the course of her marriage and its shortcomings. She went back to her phone, deleted the post. Pretended to scroll while she listened to the stranger and her new neighbor. 

“I was sitting next to your husband, it seems. And daughter? They told me you were back here, and I wanted to offer to switch you seats before we take off.”

Hannah felt her pussy clench at the idea of sitting next to this man for the next four hours. Part of her—the part of her that flooded with moisture—begged this woman to say yes, but the more dominant part of her that had only been with one man, kissed one man, touched one man screamed in mutiny. She was fresh off the divorce press, hot and bothered, and wholly incapable of keeping her body’s reactions in check. 

“Are you sure? We’re in the back of the plane. You couldn’t even put your seat back.”

Hannah peeked up from her phone to see the man smile. White teeth, a small gap between the front two. Oh, Jesus. 

“I’m sure. You should be with your family. I’m traveling solo.” Hannah glanced up again to find the man staring at her as he said that. Her stomach flared with nerves, and the heat from her cheeks spread directly south under his scrutiny.

“Oh, yes, please,” Laura cried, standing and gathering her things. “You’re a saint, you know. We’re headin’ home from the Bahamas and it just seems so unfair to sit so far away from them.” 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Sure, Hannah wanted the woman to sit with her family, but she was now alone with a man who made her wet in places her husband hadn’t touched in a year. Her ex-husband, rather. That would take some getting used to. 

Hannah overrode her body’s natural reaction to run and took her cue to move out of the aisle, stymied by a flight attendant at her back. As Laura passed her, Hannah was pressed into the chest of the stranger, her new and somewhat unwelcome neighbor. He was solid, all hard angles, no give. Sex. He was walking, talking sex. 

Hannah knew she was his opposite in almost every way. Soft, miniscule, demure. Not sexy, not one bit. It was part of what led to her divorce, the vanilla, mind-numbingly boring sex, much of which she attributed to her unwillingness to explore her ex in the ways he wanted.

The stranger passed her, squeezed into the window seat. Hannah followed suit, felt the cells on her left arm buzz with anticipation as they brushed his arm. Her seat had to be a puddle. How mortifying.

“I’m Killian,” he said, reaching over his too-broad chest to shake her hand. She didn’t know why, would wonder about her decision in the months following that portentous flight, but she took his outstretched hand. 

Had the flight attendants not announced at that moment the doors were closed and they would be taking off shortly, Hannah would have fled the sparks that shot down her arm, the fire that scorched her palm, branded her. It was an all-consuming blaze. When she risked a glance up at him, she saw it raging in his eyes as well. 

She shivered, despite the warmth of the enclosed cabin, the air conditioning not yet enabled.

“Killian,” she repeated, his name on her tongue the most alluring word she’d ever uttered. “Hannah. I’m Hannah.”

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but that would be a supreme understatement.”

Hannah laughed then, an altogether unfamiliar sound that rang out in their small, private corner of the plane. 

“Oh, you’re smooth,” she teased. The smile she’d witnessed earlier was nothing compared to the one he directed at her. The gap between his teeth was suddenly an invitation to run her tongue along the space. His lips—plump, pink, perfect—were homing beacons, calling her closer. 

“No, just honest. I’m so glad fate plopped me down beside you.” 

Fate. Did she even believe in such a concept? She didn’t think so, but then she’d never met a man who made her want to strip naked in the middle of public, either. 

“What makes you think this is fate?” 

“Look around.” He gestured to the rest of their row and the one across the aisle. Both were empty of other travelers. “Do you think it’s just dumb luck that I get sat next to the most stunning woman I’ve seen since I moved here and that the only empty seats on the flight are the ones by us?”

So, he’d noticed as well. Oh, dammit. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to forego dating, study instead. Get the grades, get the dream job, then find the dream guy. She wasn’t supposed to get hot and heavy with a stranger on an airplane on the way to make all that happen. 

“So, Killian, huh? That sounds Irish. Forgive me, but you don’t exactly look…” she trailed off, aware she was rambling. Anything to move the conversation to more benign territory. 

“See-through like the rest of my Irish brethren?” He’d taken on a thick brogue, an affectation that made Hannah’s breasts swell, her nipples harden beneath her thin, cotton button down dress. “My mom’s Irish, dad’s Puerto Rican, hence this muddled mess. I may be the only Killian Sanchez you’ll ever meet.” He let out a short laugh, a bark of pure sex and joy. Hannah let it seep into her skin, fan the flames that were consuming her.

Now, that was an understatement. He was no more a muddled mess than she was the Queen of the Scots. He was cafe latte, a caramel-colored dream of muscle and masculinity. 

The plane shifted, and Hannah looked to her right, realizing how close she was to a leg she wanted to straddle, get off on, when there were four empty seats beside her. She should move, give him some space. Give her aching pussy some space. 

When she moved, gathered her small backpack from beneath the seat in front of her, she felt his hand on her arm. More than just shock settled in the shallow of her belly.

“Don’t go. I like you here. Close. Unless you want to move, of course.” It was the choice he gave her that tripped up her senses, had her evaluating her own sanity. Because it was only the illusion of choice, wasn’t it? She would stay the whole flight, and beyond, if he asked it of her. He had that kind of power over her already, a wholly frightening and exhilarating thought. 

She nodded, settled back into her seat. His hand didn’t move from her arm except to increase the pressure of his grip as the engines roared to life. Hannah was pressed to the back of her seat when the plane rose in the air. Killian’s hand fell to her thigh as the lights dimmed for takeoff. 

Her brain screamed that she should remove his hand, get as far away from this man as she could, but when her hand lay atop his, she left it there, yet another decision she’d think about in the months to come. 

She stole a glance up at him, and registered the wanting in his eyes. Pure, unadulterated lust. For her. It was heady, unnerving. But it was everything she’d never had and always wanted, and so it was empowering as well. 

His thumb traced a circle on her thigh at the edge of the thin fabric separating her now-pulsing sex from his touch. Hannah let out a small sigh of relief laced with pleasure. She couldn’t remember the last time her ex had approached her with anything resembling tenderness.

When his thumb moved north, her sigh became a quick intake of breath that stuck in her throat, rendering her speechless. She’d read romantic tales of secret trysts on airplanes, but had never considered one possible. Until now. 

Killian bent down and, with his free hand, procured a lightweight jacket, draped it over Hannah’s waist, her trembling legs. She met his gaze and nodded her assent. She was okay with this, whatever this was. If she changed her mind later, she knew he would stop because they were surrounded by two-hundred other travelers.

Killian nodded back and slid a finger along the sexy new lace panties Hannah had purchased for herself when the divorce had finalized. She gasped and Killian tipped her chin up, stared down at her like she was a gazelle and he a ravenous lion. 

He shook his head, pressed a finger to his lips, indicating silence. If she couldn’t keep her damned emotions and reactions in check, they would have to stop, she understood that. But, Good God, this man was sexy as hell and his finger—oh, God, his finger—was now between the lace and her skin. She was ablaze, all heat and damp sex. She felt her own liquid pooling around his fingers as he slid two of them between her soft folds.

She clenched around him, so unused to the attention. He expertly maneuvered his hand so that as his fingers thrust in and out of her, the tip of his middle finger pulled at her clit, sending waves of orgasm rolling through her body. Hannah shook with pleasure, with the unexpectedness of such a moment after so long without.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. And oh, how she was. She’d come so quickly. How humiliating.

“Shhh,” he replied, shaking his head and tipping her chin up to him again. This time, his lips bent down to hers, and as she opened to him, she discovered that he wasn’t just caramel on the outside. He tasted like spun sugar, and her tongue darted to meet his, tangling with it as his fingers wrapped in her hair. For a brief second, he pulled back and Hannah ached at the laconic pause in pleasure. “We’re not even close to being done, my darling. I want you to head to the bathroom on our side of the plane and leave the door unlocked. I’ll be right behind you.”

Hannah nodded, not caring about the seat-belt sign urging her not to listen, to stay where she was and follow the plan she’d set for herself. There would be time for that, but a new, primal urge, roared in her chest, and she would answer it. 

She stood up and walked the half-step into the small room, closing but not locking the door. She looked in the mirror, not displeased. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright—more than she could say for herself when she’d first boarded the plane. 

The door opened, and Hannah made room for Killian, whose size couldn’t be hidden in the cramped quarters. He took up all the space, all the breath from Hannah’s lungs. Under the bright lights, his skin was luminous, his smile razor-sharp and clean. He’d brought along his jacket, tied around thin hips.

With one deft move, he locked the door and hoisted Hannah onto the sink, where, surprisingly, the nozzle to the sink nestled just above her ass, acting more as massage than nuisance. He squatted in front of her and nudged the fabric of her dress up, using his hands to slide her underwear off. He tucked them into the pocket of his jeans, his smile keeping its boyish charm, but Hannah didn’t miss the way one corner of it turned up with mischief. 

That was the last she saw of his face. He nuzzled against her liquid sex, his nose teasing her still-tender clit. She wanted to cry out, but knew that would be the end of the fun that was just beginning. Killian’s tongue was eager, sliding along her folds, bringing her to the brink of another orgasm. He flicked her clit with his tongue before adding the two fingers that had brought her to climax earlier. 

“Killian—” she choked out in a whisper. “I’m, I’m close again.” 

“Good, darling. Come for me. It won’t be the last time, I promise.”

She gave into the sensation again, except this time, Killian’s hand didn’t leave as she convulsed around his fingers. Instead, he added another, and worked faster with his tongue. It swirled inside her like the fire that all but burnt her to ashes, and when he let it slip between her sex and ass, she shuddered. 

Her ex had never once touched her there, and a noiseless gasp escaped her throat at the thrill of the pleasure she felt coursing through her. 

“I want you. I want you inside me.” She didn’t know this man, but that was a truth she couldn’t deny. She wanted him as badly as she’d ever wanted anything in her life. 

He nodded against her pussy before rising up to meet her face, her cum making his lips gleam in the light. She pulled him by the jacket into her, and licked herself from his mouth. She tasted salty, not unpleasant. When he groaned into her mouth, a guttural plea for more, she obliged. Hopping off the sink, she flipped around so her pussy was against the cool metal of the sink. Spreading her legs, she looked behind her, inviting him in. It was so unlike her, so bizarre a circumstance, she felt as if she was watching it from above. Except the liquid that dripped down her leg reminded her of the very realness of the situation. It was the hottest thing she’d ever done. 

Killian pulled a condom from his pocket and pulled down his jeans. He untied the jacket and placed it on the sink in front of Hannah. She heard the latex wrap around his cock, but hadn’t witnessed what she had in store in that regard until he slowly slid inside her, filling her even before his pelvis could cup her ass. 

“More,” she insisted. If he had more to give, she wanted to take it all. She felt another inch thrust into her, touching places inside her that were as foreign to her as the new coast she was headed to. “Yes,” she whispered. “Like that.”

He took her cue and began thrusting, slowly at first, gaining a rhythm while he wrapped his hands around her chest and began undoing the buttons of her dress. His fingers brushed her breasts, heavy and full, and she almost came a third time. He pressed one of her nipples between his fingers as he rammed into her harder and faster now. 

A cry of exquisite pleasure lodged in her throat as he cupped both breasts and squeezed. One hand continued groping her chest while the other made quick work of her buttons before settling on her clit. He rubbed it with his thumb and simultaneously moved in and out of her until she could feel his breathing change.

“I’m close,” he whispered into her hair, his breath hot on her neck. He ran his tongue down her earlobe and she nodded.

“Come. I’m almost there, too.” He thrust twice more before shuddering behind her, his thumb still rubbing her until she closed in around him, joining him in release. She looked in the mirror, at her breasts that still heaved with shortened breaths, exposed and hardened. 

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” he spoke into her ear. It was a whisper, but it coursed through her like he’d screamed it from the front of the plane. She needed that affirmation almost as badly as she’d needed to be fucked.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Come here. Wear this. I want to imagine you naked beside me the rest of the flight, only my clothing keeping the whole plane from seeing you the way I just did.” He pulled the jacket over Hannah, then turned her towards him and bent down. His mouth covered her pussy and he sucked once more before making his way up her stomach, peppering her with kisses as he zipped the jacket over her naked body.

The soft material teased her nipples, which were still diamond-hard.

She picked up her dress from the floor and tied it around her waist, loving the thrill of the moment washing over her now that it was over. Yet, as he made his way to his seat and she followed after—no one apparently the wiser—that wasn’t entirely true, she saw. He was in her seat, and patted his for her to take. 

She straddled him to get there, and he slid his hands up the back of the jacket, cupping her naked ass. He spread her cheeks and slid a finger in her wetness again, swirling it once, before removing it and licking himself clean of her. She smiled and kissed him, tasted herself still on his lips. 

“Curl up with me, darling. I want to feel you against me until we land.” His arm wrapped around her hip, his hand resting where her underwear had been until twenty minutes ago. His thumb continued rubbing the circles on her waist, his other arm across her legs, just under the jacket. 

Hannah hadn’t considered what would happen when they landed. She had his name, but nothing else to go on, and now that she thought about her life, the one she’d so carefully crafted and sacrificed for, she wasn’t sure she wanted more than that. 

The flight attendant came up the aisle asking if anyone wanted headphones. Hannah bit back a grin before politely declining. 

As she leaned against the stranger who had just fucked her better than she’d ever been fucked, she closed her eyes and smiled. Somewhere, over a state she’d never been to, never seen, she’d made her life, her body, her heart hers again. He’d called it fate, she’d thought it a lucky coincidence, but whatever it was, it would be her moment forever. Hers. She liked the sound of that.