Page 72 of Green
I was the one who was dying inside. I looked down at the hand that was holding mine, gently stroked his thumb with mine. His fingers outstretched, and I ran my fingertip up along his index finger. He groaned, pulled his hand away and placed his messenger bag on his lap.
“Unless you’re ready for a quickie in the men’s room, I better keep my hands to myself now. Gemma.”
I sat on my hands and batted my eyelashes at him.
“No nickname. Gemma.” He said my name with such reverence, like the word meant so much to him. It was all I ever needed to hear.
I leaned over and gave him a quick, totally non-provocative kiss on his cheek.
The flight attendant for our cabin was a very friendly, not at all gay man in his thirties, who winked at me when he handed me my mimosa. It was much appreciated by me, and it did not go unnoticed by Theo, who also may have caught him quickly checking out my bare legs when we embarked the plane. Theo straight-up glared at him when he took his coffee, and said a very curt “Thanks bro,” which for a polite guy from Canada, was practically a punch in the face.
If Theo were a character in a movie I was working on, I’d design a set for him that was mostly shades of green. For the green card, for the green-eyed monster of jealousy, with pops of fire red to hint at possible outbursts of passion. If I were decorating his house now, I’d take away all of the hot colors (not that there were ever many hot colors in that house). I’d add masculine greys and faded lavenders to calm him and remind him of his masculine strength and confidence. And then I’d throw a pillow at him, because he was being ridiculous.
But I had been ridiculous for more than a minute, and he put up with me, so I let it slide.
Once we’d reached a cruising altitude of 39,000 feet and the flight attendants were absent from our cabin, I also let him slide his hand up my skirt.
He had lifted up the armrest that divided our wide seats, dropped his napkin onto the floor, reached down and then stealthily skimmed his hand along up my calf. I turned my head towards him, ever so slightly.Really?Ostensibly, he was lazily leaning in my direction, completely absorbed in reading the New York Times. Secretly, the fingers of his right hand were reaching between my knees and he was about to find out just how much slippery body fluid my undergarment had absorbed. My knees automatically snapped shut, blocking him. His hand remained there, waiting for a green light.
I checked to make sure that the man and woman across the aisle from us weren’t paying attention. They most definitely were not. I reached down for the jacket that I’d stashed under the seat in front of me, and spread it across my lap, because this was first class, not the back of a Greyhound bus. I took a deep breath and relaxed my legs apart, just an inch.
He moved slowly, and it was torture. I rested my head back against my seat and watched his impressive poker face, but once his fingers slipped past my panties and he felt the warm wetness that was just for him, his eyes closed and his jaw tightened and I took great pleasure in knowing that the wait had been as painful for him as it had been for me. I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. As soon as he started to apply pressure to my clit, it felt like the plane had suddenly dropped 10,000 feet. I began trembling.
One would think, from the way I was clinging to the armrest, that we were experiencing terrifying turbulence. I don’t know if it’s true that it kills brain cells if you hold in a sneeze, and I don’t know if it’s also true that you kill brain cells when you try to hold in an orgasm, but if itistrue then it would explain a lot. I certainly wasn’t on track to solve that P versus NP computer science problem, the way things were going.
I had always known that being smart made Theo extra sexy, but now I knew that he was smart about sex too. He knew that I was so amped-up it meant he barely had to do a thing. Just his touch and small movements were all I needed to release that year of frustration. I just didn’t know if I was ready to release it in the window seat of row 2.
He watched me quaking for a moment—savoring it (the bastard)—then leaned over to say into my ear: “Don’t hold back, Gemma.”
The warmth of his breath on my skin, the way he said my name, was enough to make my lower body respond by rocking back and forth, just the tiniest bit, on his hand.
I suddenly reached under the jacket and grabbed his wrist. I had to touch him. I pressed myself up and back into my seat, tensing up everything, delaying the inevitable. And then his fluttering fingertips sent a shockwave through my body and I gasped.
“Shhhh.”
I saw him look over to quietly shush me, but could barely hear him over the deep hum of the plane engine. He was smirking, but his eyes were hooded and it seemed cruel and unfair—both to him and to me—that we weren’t even kissing.
Then, somehow, when his gaze held mine, I felt closer to him, it felt more private and intimate, and it pushed me over the edge. I suppose it’s physically impossible to sneeze or come with your eyes open, but I stayed with him for as long as I could before finally letting myself give in to a quiet storm inside that seemed to last forever.
Pretty much everything that happened in the next couple of hours after that were a blur. Except I did notice the male flight attendant giveTheoa slow “nice going, bro” wink as we disembarked, so maybe we weren’t as discreet as we thought we were. Theo rented a car and drove us from the Vancouver airport, north up to Whistler in the Coast Mountains. Everything was gorgeous.
I don’t want to be that American tourist who’s all“Canada’s so clean and everyone’s so polite!”but…It was so clean and everyone was so polite.
Though Whistler is known for its Olympic-class skiing, it was not at all slow in the off-season. Whistler Village is a big, picturesque, European-style pedestrian village filled with resorts, condos, restaurants and shops.
The luxury chalet-themed resort where we were staying didn’t have a honeymoon suite, Theo explained, but he did get us a deluxe executive suite that had a separate bedroom and living room, a fireplace, a view of the surrounding mountains, and a bathroom that I wanted to move into.
I also wanted to take a very unsexy nap, before we did anything else, and Theo didn’t even make fun of me. He ordered us some late lunch room service and said it was important for me to rest up, because we’d be up all night fucking like newlyweds. So. I don’t know how I managed to sleep with my heart racing and an insane amount of pressure between my legs, but I did.
