CHAPTER SEVEN

B rianna dropped her book an inch and glanced over at the man sitting on the other side of the plane. For the seven hundredth time. She couldn’t help it. She could feel heat pouring off him in a way that was hard to describe.

He glanced at her.

She felt her cheeks warm, and lifted her book again.

Behind her, Brayden and Willow had just disappeared inside the master bedroom. She knew Brayden was rich, but she hadn’t realized he was this rich. Their own private jet—holy smokes, Willow had struck gold.

But there was a slight sadness about her friend she couldn’t put her finger on. Not when the two lovebirds gazed at each other, more when she was alone with Brianna. She remembered the day she got married. She’d been ridiculously happy and in love, though a small part of her was grieving her single life.

Bri decided she would reassure Willow that she’d never lose her. She knew what it was like to be in love, and they had remained fast friends even while she had been married to Christian, so it would be no different.

She was impressed that Brayden was taking Willow home to meet some relatives in Italy. As she’d suspected, he was serious about the relationship, and she strongly suspected her friend would return home with an enormous diamond on her finger. Women had a sixth sense about these things.

Why the big hulk of muscles sitting across from her was going with them was an interesting question.

“You going to keep ignoring me?” the deep voice asked.

Bri dropped her book onto her lap. She hadn’t read a word of it, anyway. “I’m not ignoring you. I’m just keeping a safe distance.”

He smirked. “Smart.”

She stared at him, taking in his black outfit. Dark, tight T-shirt, black pants, and boots. He had short blond hair, and all number of tattoos peeked out everywhere skin was visible.

“Don’t you ever get cold?” she suddenly asked.

His eyes widened in surprise, and he laughed. “No.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Why, are you cold?”

The concern that lined his face didn’t surprise her. Since the moment they’d met, he’d been a contradiction. Grumpy with her, yet protective as a momma bear.

What did surprise her was the speed with which he stepped across the aisle, and how he reached and felt her arm. Their eyes met as fire flared where their skin touched. Craig shook his head and plopped down in the seat opposite her.

“Little witch,” he muttered.

Brianna frowned. “Stop calling me that.”

He shook his head again, so she reached out her leg to kick him, and with speed so fast she hadn’t seen him, he caught her ankle.

She gasped.

“You play with fire, little witch.”

His fingers ran over her ankle as heat worked its way up her leg to her core. She took in a long breath, which caught in her throat and stuttered as she let it out.

Craig continued to stare at her, those emerald-green eyes blazing.

“Perhaps you should wear more clothes and then you wouldn’t be so cold.”

And the moment died.

She tried to rip her leg back, but he held it firm.

“I’m wearing adequate clothing, thank you very much.” She had on a long-sleeved woolen dress that finished just above her knees. Her knee-length boots were under the seat. “I never said I was cold before you started groping me. Now please give me my leg back.”

His eyes glistened in a mix of amusement and what appeared to be arousal. One look at his crotch confirmed it.

He let her leg go, then leaned back in the seat. Tipping his head back against the headrest, it appeared as if he was going to go to sleep. “You’d know if I was groping you, Brianna, and we would both enjoy it.”

Her body hummed as her mind went wild, imagining those enormous hands on her. When she didn’t answer, he opened his eyes, and they sat staring at each other, desire flowing between them.

For a moment, all their resistance to each other seemed to have vanished. Looking back, she would never understand why, but it likely saved her life.