"I need to visit the lavatory," he said after performing the complicated maneuver under the blanket.
"I wonder why," she teased, earning herself a look that promised retribution later.
He slipped out of his seat with admirable grace, considering the circumstances, and Fenella watched him make his way to the back of the plane. No one stirred, the cabin maintaining its illusion of slumber, but she wasn't fooled. Immortal hearing meant that someone must have been aware of their clandestine activities.
The thought should have mortified her. Instead, it sent another little thrill through her system. Perhaps there was a little bit of an exhibitionist in her.
Who knew?
Love was liberating. Evidently, having a partner she felt safe with was all the encouragement she needed to start experimenting with what brought her pleasure.
When Din returned, he slid back into his reclined seat with a carefully blank expression. "You look entirely too pleased with yourself," he whispered.
"I have good reason to be." She snuggled against his side with the smugness of a cat who'd gotten the cream. "I've just inducted my proper Scottish professor into the mile-high club. That's worth a little satisfaction."
"Inducted, corrupted, led astray," he muttered, but his arm came around her, pulling her closer. "What's next? Public indecency in the Cairo Museum?"
"Now there's a thought," she mused, feeling him tense. "All those dark corners, hidden alcoves, the mummy exhibit…"
"Absolutely not," he said with mock firmness. "I'm an archaeologist, not a tomb raider of virtue."
She laughed softly against his chest. "Tomb raider of virtue? Did you really just say that?"
"My brain's not fully functional yet," he defended. "Someone scrambled my circuits at high altitude."
"Poor baby," she cooed with false sympathy. "Maybe you should get some sleep. We still have long hours in the air."
"As if I could sleep now," he said. "I'll be spending the rest of the flight wondering who knows."
"If anyone does, they're probably impressed. I doubt anyone suspected you had it in you."
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You're a terrible influence."
"The best kind of terrible." She yawned, feeling drowsy now that the adrenaline was receding. "Wake me when we get to Cairo?"
"Of course." His hand stroked through her hair, gentle and soothing. "Sleep, my wicked witch."
She smiled against his chest, feeling accomplished and content. It had been risky, potentially embarrassing, and definitely outside both their comfort zones. Still, it had also been a moment of connection that belonged to no one but them, even if others had been peripherally aware of it.
"Din?" she murmured, already half-asleep.
"Hmm?"
"We're definitely doing that again."
His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. "We'll see about that."
