His well-shaped, very firm-looking ass. The angle he was bent at showed it off to perfection. Squinting, I could even see two dimples resting just over the swell of his ass cheeks, and the sudden desire to reach across and touch them made me actually sit on my hands so I didn’t do exactly that.
I frowned, wondering if I should move. Maybe he wanted privacy. Internally, I snorted—as if anyone could find privacy in an airport. Obviously, like me, he had sought out the quietest place he could find, because he wanted to sleep.
Which was a very good idea.
Shoving my backpack under my feet like a stool, I shut my eyes and leaned my head back. But I couldn’t get comfortable. I shifted a little and tried again. I used the pillow I’d been given and attempted to curl into the seat, but the metal bars dug into my side and the thin cushion under me offered no relief at all. I turned the other way, trying to find a more comfortable position, throwing an envious glare toward the fine-assed, sleeping man. He seemed pretty cozy.
I watched as his shoulders moved in a continuous, slow rhythm, his breathing deep and even. I tried matching my breathing to his and felt myself relax and my eyes drift shut. A loud noise behind me startled me, and I sat back up to see a woman had dropped a large, overstuffed suitcase. I turned around and attempted once more to relax, but this time, it didn’t work. I was never good at sleeping while sitting up. My slumbering neighbor made a low groan, his arm twitching a little before he resettled, and I frowned. He was lying down—stretched out across a few seats. Maybe I should try doing that. I stood and pulled on the wide, metal bar separating the seats, but it didn’t budge. I pushed and pulled, but I couldn’t get it to move. I moved to the next set of seats and tried again. Obviously, some of them had to pull up so you could lie down. Ass-man had figured it out. Surely I could, too.
However, I had no success. I sat down, frustrated. Looking across the aisle, I wondered if maybe only certain rows allowed you to move the handle out of the way. Cautiously, I tested a couple in his row, tugging hard on the handles, but none of them budged. Finally, in desperation, I circled around and warily leaned over the back of the seats he was sleeping on to see how the arm lifted. I was shocked when I realized the arm wasn’t missing. Mr. Ass-man was curled right around the metal—so tightly it was digging into his stomach. I shook my head—it had to be uncomfortable, yet still, he slept. Unable to resist, I stared at his slumbering face. He was handsome. Beyond handsome. He had turned a bit, so his entire face was on display, his dark brown hair in wild waves around his temples. Thick, arched eyebrows slanted over his eyes. Long, dark, full lashes rested on high cheekbones. A sharp jaw was covered in thick scruff, the color slightly lighter than what was on his head. Full, pouty lips were partially open, his pink tongue resting on the bottom lip invitingly. I frowned at the dark circles under his eyes but understood better how he was able to sleep in such an awkward position. He was exhausted. Now that I could see him, I realized that, even asleep, he wasn’t in total rest. His hand moved, fingers twitching constantly. His eyebrows flexed and contracted as his mouth frowned and pursed. Another low groan escaped his lips as a soft pleading “No,” came out. His hand moved, lifting and seeking, his fingers flexing mid-air.
I felt the strangest need to comfort him. I wanted to run my fingers through his wild hair and soothe him, hold his hand and stroke the rough-looking skin so he would relax. When his hand moved again, I slipped mine into it, squeezing the wide palm lightly. Instantly, he seemed to calm, and his face relaxed. His hand flexed and held on to mine.
My gaze strayed over to my backpack. I wondered if I should cover him with my blanket and if there was any way of sliding the airplane pillow under his head, to make him a little more comfortable. I wanted to do something, help in some small way. Why, I had no idea, but the urge was overwhelming. I had to get my hand back first, though. I glanced back down, only to freeze in place.
His eyes were now open—staring right at me. Wide, startled eyes, so green it was like losing oneself in a deep forest. I felt my cheeks burst into flames at being caught leaning over him and staring.