Claim Me

MANDY

Wrapping my arms around my legs, I rest my chin on my knee and curl into as small of a ball as I can manage in the uncomfortable

airport seat and wait for my flight. The long line of planes outside the window isn’t doing anything to calm my nerves. What are the odds of one of them crashing? I try to remember the statistics about flight safety, but I can’t seem to remember a damn thing. Nerves have addled my brain, so instead I focus on my breathing, putting my newfound meditation skills into practice.

When one of the planes goes hurtling down the runway, I hurry up and turn my head, choosing to look at the group of fellow passengers who are waiting to board the plane that will take us all to Denmark. Why the fuck did I think this was a good idea? Yes, I’ve been saving up for this trip for years, and yes I swore to myself that I’d visit the country my parents were from when I turned eighteen and graduated high school, but I’m starting to seriously consider the possibility that I’m going to pass out before I can even board the damn plane. At least I can say I tried.

I scan the crowd, noticing that everyone seems to be taking our impending journey of about 35,000 feet in the sky with absolute ease. People are laughing and chatting, and no one else is trying to not hyperventilate.

When the perfectly manicured woman behind the counter announces that first class is boarding, I keep my ass where it’s at. I know my place, and it’s not in a first-class, cushy seat. My eyes run over the obvious high spenders as they seem to appear from thin air in their expensive suits and carry-on luggage that probably costs more than my entire ticket.

The women look bored and slightly pissed, and their husbands don’t look much better. I’ve never understood how rich people can be so damn pissy all the time. If I ever have that kind of money, I’m going to be the happiest motherfucker around.

I’m about to turn away when a man comes around the corner. My whole body goes on alert. He’s not just gorgeous. He’s jaw-droppingly gorgeous, like the kind of beautiful that you never actually get to experience in real life, just read about and see in magazines. His dark hair is thick and lightly speckled with grey, and that probably shouldn’t get my pussy wet, but it most definitely does.

I squirm in my seat, making sure my dress is still covering me and I’m not flashing the whole damn airport, and watch the way his expensive suit accentuates his broad shoulders and muscled body. The dark stubble on his face gives him a rugged, manly look and shows off that chiseled jaw. When he looks in my direction, I feel like I’ve just been dunked underwater. All the air leaves me in a rush and every part of my body sparks to life. It’s the most profound moment of my life, and it lasts for approximately 2.5 seconds before he turns away and walks to the beautiful woman at the counter.

She gives him a big, flirty smile, and I grip my legs tighter to keep from running up and smacking it right off her perfect face. He smiles back, and I die a little inside. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I swear I see the woman look over at me before quickly turning back to the man and nodding her head.

Sure I imagined it, I go back to eye-fucking Mr. Sexy, wishing there was a way I could at least watch him on the flight. I know I’d feel better if I could at least see him. My ticket is for in the back, though, and I doubt the flight attendants would appreciate me sneaking peeks behind the precious dividing curtain.

Nope, I’m going to just have to memorize this gorgeous man and file it away for later. Maybe I’ll be super daring and fuck myself in the airplane bathroom while I think about him. The idea has me barking out a laugh before I can stop myself, making the man and everyone else around me turn to look in my direction.

I feel my face turn beet red and quickly clamp my mouth shut. Everyone turns away, but Mr. Sexy keeps looking at me, an amused smile playing on his lips. I wish I could see what color his eyes are, and I wish I could nuzzle against that sexy neck of his and breathe in his scent. God, I bet he smells amazing.

Before he turns away, he gives me a quick wink that has my heart racing and my nipples so hard I can barely stand it. He says one last thing to the woman and then walks on the plane without so much as a backward glance.

That’s it. That’s the last time I’ll see him. The thought has me more depressed than it should be.

When the woman announces that the rest of us can board, I grab my bag and make my way to the back of the line. It seems to take forever before I finally reach the woman checking the tickets. Right when I’m about to hand it to her, the one who had spoken to Mr. Sexy steps forward and says, “I’ll handle this one.”

Before I can ask what the hell is going on, she’s smiling and ushering me forward. “I’m sorry, but there’s been a slight change.” She gives me an apologetic grin. “We seem to have overbooked the flight, and your seat was chosen for an upgrade.”

“What?” I ask, struggling to keep up with her as she leads me through the enclosed tunnel to the door of the plane.

“You’ll be riding first class,” she says, before smiling at the flight attendant at the door of the plane. “Please make sure she gets into the proper seat.” She writes my new seat number on my ticket and hands it to the other woman before turning back to me. She doesn’t look thrilled about this turn of events, but she gives me a pinched smile and says, “Enjoy your flight,” before turning and walking back the way we came.

The flight attendant looks at my ticket and gives me a genuine smile. “Lucky you,” she says, leading me into the plane and to the left. I take a quick look at the back of the plane to the long line of economy seating that looks stuffed to the gills and miserable as fuck before following the woman into an area that’s so ridiculously spacious and plush that it’s like we’ve stepped onto a completely different aircraft.

“Wow,” I say, looking around at the large, comfortable chairs and amenities that I never even knew existed on a plane. We walk past two of the couples that look just as sour as they did boarding the flight before she stops and points at the vacant seat by the window, the one that’s right next to Mr. Sexy. He looks up at me and smiles, and I realize at that moment that his eyes are a vibrant blue and that he’s making my fucking knees feel weak.

“Here you go, Miss,” she says to me, beaming and scooting aside so I can get to what is now apparently my new, upgraded seat.

“Thank you,” I manage to squeak out as I scoot past Mr. Sexy’s long legs and sit down in my spacious, leather seat. I hurry up stow my bag under my seat and try not to look as awed by everything as I feel.

I guess I’m doing a piss-poor job of it because when I start to rub my hands over everything and let out an “Oooh,” at the TV screen that is all for me and the complimentary cozy blanket, he lets out a deep laugh that has me blushing again.

“First time in first class or first time on a plane?” he asks, and I notice a slight accent that’s sexy as fuck.

“Both,” I say, and then feeling stupid, I add, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he quickly says. “I like seeing your excitement.”