Chapter Three
Juliet
Was this really happening? The cookies were the best chocolate chip cookies I’d ever had, and Mr. Hot as Fuck ordered them?
For me? And the wine? Is this what people do in first class?
I’m sure it isn’t, but I’m swooning. Not only is Marcel mature and gorgeous, he’s a freaking entire gentleman.
Like a knight in shining armor bearing Bordeaux, gelato, and vegan chocolate chip cookies.
Maybe I’m just a little tipsy because I don’t drink.
“I’m going to be spending Christmas in a hotel,” Marcel says politely with that sexy gravel-toned voice. “I’ll have a nice meal and I’ll ring some friends. I leave very early the next morning.”
“Oh, well if you’re in Rhode Island, you can come hang out with my Grandma and me for Christmas. We always have the most fun together and she loves inviting in strays.”
He cocks his head and looks at me in surprise. “Vegan Christmas food and strays?” He looks completely shocked.
And I laugh, I know my being a vegan is hard for some people to understand. I’m not strict. I'll break every once in a while if I’m at a friend's house and they accidentally use something with butter or eggs; I don’t make a big deal of it.
“She makes the best cauliflower and broccoli casserole with veganaise and cashew cheese.” I start to wax poetic about all the ways my Gran has adapted our traditional favorites.
Marcel just shakes his head. “Oh, no, no, no, cashews are not cheese. You poor, poor girl.”
“Well, a cow’s breastmilk shouldn’t be either,” I come back.
“We’ll get nowhere with this debate, I’m of French ancestry and we don’t recognize vegans as participating members of society.” He had to be joking.
“And I’m a California transplant and veganism is the wave of the future.” I jut out my chin.
“You are lightheaded because you are hungry,” He dismisses and offers another cookie.
I shake my head and refuse the last cookie. “I’m actually full.” I make a show of rubbing my belly and he laughs.
“You’re too much.” He sets the plate aside and the attendant picks it up.
“Miss Limons,” she says, all chipper and happy. “Would you like me to make your bed for you?”
Make my bed—what? A bed. She has to be joking, I must have heard her wrong.
“Bed?” I ask, because what the heck? Where is the bed?
“Yes, your seat converts into a bed and it’s standard that after the meal is served we offer turndown service in case you want to sleep. I just need you to stand up for a few minutes and I can do this really quickly for you.
Mr. Dubois your room is ready whenever you are.”
Room?
Is she serious? He has a whole room on this plane?
“Sure, thank you,” he says.
Both Mr. Adonis and I stand up out of our seats and of course my book topples to the floor humiliating me just that touch more.
I had abandoned it for It’s a Wonderful Life, since A Hot Christmas Knight is getting me overheated with a real life sex god sitting too close.
Also the wine is really doing its thing.
I sway a little standing up as the airplane spins, though it’s not spinning, my head is.
“Woah there,” Marcel grabs me as I find my footing.
“Sorry. I don’t drink much,” I say and I’m slurring a little ... shit. I must look like the world’s most complete idiot.
“It only takes a little,” he says softly and holds me as the flight attendant puts my book into the front pocket and turns my seat into a bed effortlessly.
She puts up a little partition wall and suddenly my seat is separated from Marcel’s.
But it doesn’t matter because he’s going to be moving to a room, I guess.
“Thanks,” I whisper, thanking him for keeping me upright. “So they have rooms on the plane?” I ask, too curious not to.
“Yes, I’ll show you.” He gives me a little squeeze and the attendant is done with my bed.
“Okay. All done. Would you like another blanket? We have pajamas in the toiletries bag with some soap and lotion and other goodies.” Wait, there was a gift bag? Are they joking?
“No. I’m good, thank you,” I tell the attendant who leaves us and then I turn to Marcel. “What toiletry bag?” I ask.
He dips forward and plucks a pretty maroon leather bag from under the book holder in front of my seat.
“This one,” he says and I gently remove myself from his embrace; any longer in his arms and it would be weird.
I take the bag and sit on my newly made bed and open it. Inside is a pair of black pajamas in the softest cotton I’ve ever felt.
“Wow,” I say, pulling out little bottles of lotion, hand sanitizer, perfume, body wash, shampoo and conditioner, a comb, lip balm, eye mask, and ear plugs. “This stuff is amazing and oh, it smells so good,” I say, smelling the perfume.
Marcel just gives me a placating smile, like I’m a newborn foal trying to walk.
“I’m sure this is all kind of blah to you,” I laugh. “I’m such a newbie at this. You probably have hundreds of these bags.” I feel a little like an idiot.
“I do but watching you is delightful.” I think he means it because his eyes sparkle when he says it. “Would you like to see what private rooms on an airplane look like?” He asks and really how can I refuse?
“Sure.” I’m about to set my bag down, but he stops me.
“Why don’t you bring that along? I have a private shower as well.” Get the fuck out. No he doesn’t.
“Are you serious?” I mouth and am barely able to speak because I’m that flabbergasted.
“Yes.” He mouths back and laughs.
He makes way for me to leave our little cubicle area and I follow him up the stairs at the nose of the plane to the top level where there is a hallway and five doors on each side with a galley at the end.
“I’m in room three,” Marcel tells me and he unlocks the door with a little card he has in his pocket. It clicks open and he slides it over to reveal a large bed with two nightstands and another door on the opposite wall. The space is tight but roomy for an airplane.
“Oh, my God,” I gush. “This is insane.”
He motions for me to walk inside and I do. There's just enough room for us to stand side by side next to each other at the end of the bed.
“Here's the bathroom.” Marcel slides open the door on the opposite wall and reveals a toilet with a sink over the bowl and the mirror above that. “The entire room is the shower.”
“Wow, neat,” I say, unsure what he wants me to do about the shower in his room.
“I was thinking, not that you smell or anything, but you might enjoy a shower after the baby barfing incident. It takes the staff a minute to get these rooms open, they don’t have them available until turn down or I would have offered it to you earlier.
” He makes his excuses, but I don’t care, a shower sounds amazing.
“Do you mind?” I ask, knowing I’d never shower in a stranger’s room, but this is an airplane and, well, Marcel and I are seatmates, right?
“I wouldn’t have offered if I did.” I guess that’s true.
“I would love to rinse this baby barf off of me,” I say and he steps aside so that I can enter the bathroom.
It’s seriously a tight fit, but I can make it work.
“I’m going to dress into something more comfortable for sleep. You take all the time you need; we still have about four hours left of our flight.” The flight from San Francisco to Rhode Island takes about six hours so that timing makes sense.
I never want the flight to end; the mere thought of it makes me sad.
I decide I’ll take the world’s fastest shower and hopefully get a few more minutes with Marcel before I head back downstairs to my own little bed.
The water pressure is great and it heats up quickly so I’m able to shower, wash my hair, brush my teeth, and moisturize all in about five minutes.
I’m very impressed with myself. I don’t have anything else to wear so I put on the PJ’s which are so buttery soft and comfortable.
I’m in heaven. They fit a little snug, but not obscenely tight.
I definitely love my curves but I prefer to wear things a little bigger so that I don’t walk around like sex on a stick.
I exit the shower and say, “All clean,” feeling completely refreshed.
“That was fast.” There’s a sparkle in Marcel’s eyes as he stands wearing only a pair of lounge pants that are definitely not from the kit provided.
They are dark blue silk and, fuck, do they show off his body.
He’s not wearing a shirt, has perfect abs, a tattoo of a skeleton with wings just above his right breast, and an angel over the other.
They are facing each other like they’re about to go to war.
“I love your tattoos,” I blurt out like an idiot.
“And I love your airplane issue ... they look good on you.”
Wait, is he complementing me on my airplane jammies?
“Thanks.” I’m sure I’m blushing and not just because of the compliment but when I look a little farther down I see he’s not wearing underwear and boy is he, well ... um ... well-endowed.
I’ve seen naked men like at parties and on a few camping trips, but I’ve never been with a man sexually. I’m not sure but he seems a lot bigger than most men. Sensing my discomfort he casually crossed his hands over himself, but not obviously.
“I like to sleep as naturally as possible.” He gives me a smile and puts on one of the robes hanging on a hook next to the door. “So, I was wondering if you’d rather sleep in this bed instead of the seat they’ve converted downstairs. You’ll be far more comfortable here.”
I’m totally shocked by the offer. “Oh, no I couldn’t.
The bed downstairs is perfectly fine. Thank you for letting me use your shower, it was wonderful and I feel almost like me again.
Trust me, I’ve slept in far worse places.
” Oh, my gosh I must sound like a complete ho-bag, but it’s out there and I can’t take it back.
He just chuckles. “Well, I myself find airplane bed conversions to be very uncomfortable and murder on the back. I always get a bed.” He winks.
“Well, you’ll definitely enjoy it. I should be getting back. I don’t want them to give my little bed away.” Ugh, why am I like this?
“They won’t give your spot away. So this bed is designed for two, there are even controls for each side. I’m suggesting that you share it with me. No funny business—unless you enjoy that kind of thing. I know I do.”
Holy fuck. I’m so tipsy, so tired, and so delusional. Did he just offer for me to sleep with him and like—sleep with him?
“Sorry?” I look at him and beg for elaboration.
“Your bed is uncomfortable. Mine is too big. We have a few hours left of the flight. I’m offering you a place to sleep and, or .
..” he takes a breath, but his voice is low and steady.
“Enjoy the rest of the flight with me exploring something a little more physical. We don’t have to have sex, but we can enjoy getting to know each other.
When the plane lands we can go our separate ways and no one will be the wiser.
That is if you aren’t already committed to one of the half-naked men who you go to school with. I am not attached.”
I think I’m about to pass out.
“Um. Can I sit down?” Before I fall over.