Page 80 of Under Southern Stars
“I hope so,” I say, my voice low. “This is going to sound strange…”
I pull out my phone, scrolling quickly to the video I’d saved—Jack diving into that wrecked car, pulling the family to safety while metal groaned and gasoline leaked. The footage that had gone viral and made him briefly internet famous.
“That’s him,” I say, nodding back toward our row. “He’s a paramedic. We’re on our first real vacation since…” I hesitate. “Well, first one in forever. He upgraded us with his points. My daughter’s in Business Premier, completely over the moon.”
Aroha’s eyes widen slightly as she watches the video. “I remember this. It was all over the news. He pulled that whole family out?”
“Every one of them,” I confirm. “That’s just who he is.” I take a deep breath, then lean closer, dropping my voice further. “Listen, this is completely out of character for me, but…I was wondering if there might be a way I could…uhm…thank him properly.” I feel my cheeks heat. “In private.”
Understanding dawns in her eyes, followed by a spark of amusement. For a terrifying moment, I think she might laugh or, worse, report me to the captain for even suggesting it.
Instead, she glances each way down the aisle, then back at me with a conspirator’s smile. “Forward lavatory in Premium Economy. Ten minutes, after I finish this inventory. I’ll make sure it stays…unoccupied.” She winks. “For the hero.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, equal parts mortified and thrilled. “Seriously.”
“We Kiwis look after our own,” she says. “And their partners.”
I make my way back to our seats, heart hammering against my ribs. Am I really doing this? Responsible, careful Sophia Mitchell planning to sneak into an airplane bathroom with a man nearly six years her junior? My mother would faint. Madison would die of embarrassment. And Troy…Troy would never believe it.
That last thought strengthens my resolve. Troy, who’d made me feel like my desires were unimportant. Who’d never bothered to learn what I liked, what I needed. Who’d treated sex as a transaction rather than a connection.
Jack dozes on, oblivious to my racing thoughts and reckless plans. He looks impossibly young and peaceful in sleep, and for a moment I waver. Maybe I should just curl up beside him, enjoy the comfort of his warmth, and save the adventure for another time.
No. I am done with safer paths, with putting off joy, with saving things for someday. Someday is now, 35,000 feet above the Pacific, with this man who looks at me like I hung the moon.
I take a deep breath and gently poke his shoulder.
His eyes open immediately, blinking in the low light. I see the moment awareness returns—first recognition, then a drowsy warmth, then a flicker of question as he registers my posture, my expression.
“Jack,” I whisper, bending close to his ear. “Come with me.”
His eyebrows rise slightly, but he doesn’t hesitate. He unbuckles his seatbelt and follows me into the aisle, moving with that quiet, controlled grace that had first caught my attention all those months ago.
I lead him toward the front of the Premium Economy cabin, conscious of every rustle, every shift of another passenger. The lavatory light shows green—unoccupied. Just as Aroha had promised. Jack’s hand finds mine, his fingers warm and certain as they intertwine with my own.
“Sophia?” he whispers, question clear in his voice.
I don’t answer, just pull him toward the lavatory door. His eyes widen as understanding dawns, that familiar smile spreading across his face—half amused, half hungry.
We slip inside, the automatic door closes behind us with a soft pneumatic hiss. The lock clicks into place, and suddenly we are alone, truly alone, in a space barely big enough for one person, let alone two adults with intentions.
Jack’s eyes never leave mine as reality settles over us. “Are we really—”
“Yes,” I say, and kiss him before he could finish.
The kiss ignites instantly. Urgent, fierce, and reckless—the pure thrill of knowing we were doing something forbidden surges between us. Jack’s hands slide down my sides, settling possessively on my hips, pulling me closer until every inch of him presses tightly against me. My heart pounds at the unmistakable hardness pressing into my thigh.
His lips trace hot paths along my neck, and I shiver as his breath whispers against my skin. “Whose idea was this again? Because she’s a bloody genius.”
“Flight attendant helped,” I whisper, already fumbling at his belt. “But we don’t have long.”
He chuckles softly, deep in his chest. “Then let’s not waste a second.”
His palms slip down further, cupping my buttocks firmly, squeezing gently. He murmurs against my ear, his accent thick with desire. “Heaven. Just like I thought.”
My breath catches as I press tighter against him, reveling in the sensation of his hands gripping me. His fingers slide lower, guiding my pants and panties down just enough to make his intentions clear. The air in the tiny lavatory feels charged, electric with anticipation.
With practiced ease, he lifts me onto the narrow counter, porcelain cold beneath my thighs, and settles between them. We both gasp softly as he eases inside me, my body yielding to him in one smooth, deep thrust.
