Home is Not a Place

3,625 miles

"That never stopped us before!" Rachel said with resolution, while completely ignoring reality. After all, it was only a few weeks ago in her father's house that this "not being a good idea" had stopped them. Well, it had stopped him at least – she couldn't have cared less about the consequences herself.

Tonight, however, he too was apparently willing to push all reason aside. Probably because now he was just as vulnerable as she was. There was no advantage to be taken, only two broken people trying to convey with their actions what their words couldn't say.

Whatever the case, he was all in – and so was she.

After an enthusiastic agreement from him, they were all over each other again, falling backwards onto his bed in each other's arms.

The clothes came off quickly and each discarded item deepened Rachel's desire so strongly that it almost physically hurt. She not only wanted him, she needed him. Bad.

His smell was everywhere – on his sweaty skin, on the soft sheets, on the heavy air around them. His magic hands were touching her on all the right places, quickly followed by his mouth, leaving hers to expertly explore the rest of her body. Behind her ear, down her neck, her breasts, the ticklish patch of skin beneath her navel. Rachel was already breathless before even reached his final destination.

"Ohhh, Ross." She whispered throatily and bit her bottom lip to try to keep herself quiet.

But the lustful sounds escaping from her only spurred him on and he responded by amping up his actions, which instantly heightened her pleasure.

She grabbed fistfuls of sheets and surrendered herself completely to him – the one man she ever truly loved, the man who knew his way around her body like no one else. Oh, let the neighbors hear, she thought to herself. She didn't care anymore about anything other than this moment, everything else faded into the background.

God, this was incredible.

He was incredible.

She was so close to the edge, so very close...

"Ross..."

Rachel gasped softly and her eyes snapped open, her body twitching slightly on her narrow seat. Oh fuck, she thought to herself as she looked around the dark quiet plane cabin, her cheeks burning hot.

Dinner had been served a while ago and the lights were now dimmed to give everyone a chance to rest before they landed in Paris the next morning. Thankfully, the other passengers around her all seemed to be sleeping and her little "experience" had gone unnoticed.

Sex dreams could be fun, a lot of fun even, but most definitely not in such a public place.

Well, if she were to get technical, this was actually less of a dream and more of a flashback.

With a deep sigh, Rachel closed her eyes and was once again hit by very vivid memories of the previous night. She could swear she could still feel the pressure of his grip, the texture of his tongue, the weight of his body, the increasing rhythm of his thrusts...

Her eyes opened wide again, surprised, trying to snap out of it.

From the aisle seat, it was easy to escape into the bathroom.

Inside the tiny compartment, Rachel looked at herself in the mirror and considered splashing some cold water onto her face, but decided against it because she didn't want to ruin her make up.

She had had such a busy and long day that she hadn't had the time to process everything – or anything, really. It had been easy for her to push thoughts of what had happened, and what was happening to her, to the back of her mind. But now that she'd finally slowed down, everything was hitting her all at once: