13
FENELLA
The cabin lights had dimmed hours ago, transforming the luxurious interior into a cocoon of shadows and soft breathing. Fenella shifted in her fully reclined seat and adjusted the blanket over her legs.
Her body thrummed with an energy, excitement about their destination, restlessness from being confined in a metal tube hurtling through the night sky, and the scent of Din's cologne that was driving her nuts. She wasn't used to having him near and not being able to play.
He appeared to be dozing, a little cramped on the narrow bed created by flattening the seat, one hand resting on his thigh beneath the cashmere blanket. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm that should have been soothing, but instead made her hyperaware of his proximity.
She glanced around the cabin. Across the aisle, Max had his arm around Kyra, both of them sound asleep. Further back, Jasmine was curled on Ell-rom's chest while he was watching something on his tablet with earphones on and the screen dimmed. Even Kalugal seemed to be asleep along with his wife and son.
The gentle hum of the engines created a white noise that masked most small sounds, which was perfect.
A wicked idea began to form in Fenella's mind, one that would shock her stuffy professor, but that made her want to push boundaries even more just to see his reaction.
She shifted closer to him, letting her thigh press against his. His eyes opened immediately.
"Can't sleep?" he whispered, his Scottish accent more pronounced in his drowsy state.
"No," she breathed, turning her head so her lips were near his ear. "I'm feeling antsy."
His body tensed, responding to the seductive quality in her tone or maybe just to the pheromones she must be emitting. "Fenella..."
"Shh," she murmured, her hand snaking beneath his blanket. "Everyone's asleep."
"Not really," he said, but his voice had gone rough. "Immortal hearing, remember?"
"Then they'll politely pretend they can't hear anything," she countered, interlacing their fingers before slowly guiding his hand to rest on her thigh. "Just like we pretend that we can't hear what they are doing."
"No one is doing anything they are not supposed to," Din protested, but didn't pull his hand away. "This is?—"
"Exciting?" she supplied. "Thrilling? Daring? Unlike anything my proper professor has done before?"
She felt more than heard his sharp intake of breath as she guided his hand to where she needed it.
"You're going to be the death of me," he muttered, but she could hear the capitulation in his voice. His properness was crumbling under her touch.
"What a way to go," she teased, moving her hand to his belly.
"Fenella." Her name came out as half-warning, half-plea.
She turned more fully toward him, using the movement to drape her blanket over both of them. In the dim cabin light, his eyes began to glow, and she had the absurd idea of telling him to put on his sunglasses.
"Close your eyes," she murmured. "They are a dead giveaway." When he obeyed her command, she caught his ear between her teeth, and as he shivered, she kissed the spot. "I want to play," she whispered into his ear, letting her breath ghost over the sensitive skin.
His fingers brushed against the gusset of her panties, providing the friction she so desperately needed. Fenella bit back a moan.
She had him.
Her straightlaced, proper professor was doing something wonderfully improper.
"You are insane," he said, but his fingers were moving.
"Insane with need," she breathed, sliding her hand into his pants and cupping him over his cotton shorts. She felt him tense, every muscle going rigid. "Oh my. Someone's very interested in playing."
"Witch," he accused, but the word held no heat—or rather, it held nothing but heat.
"Yes," she said, beginning a slow, torturous rhythm with her hand.
