The Ice Prince. Sandra Marton
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eyes met. Her heart did a little stutter step.
“There are times when there is no need to ask,” he said softly.
Heat swept through her. Get up, she thought. Get up and go back to your own seat in the rear of the plane.
But she didn’t.
He reached out. Leaned across her. She caught her breath as he pressed the button that eased her seat all the way back.
“Close your eyes, bellissima,” he whispered. “Get some sleep.”
She nodded. Closing her eyes, pretending to sleep was probably a good plan. No reason to tell him that she never, ever was able to sleep on a plane ….
When she woke, the cabin was almost completely dark.
And she was cocooned in warmth.
Male warmth.
Somehow she was lying in the stranger’s arms, both of them covered by a soft blanket. Her head was on his shoulder, her face buried in the curve where his neck met his shoulder.
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