Page 58 of Golden Burn

Now, the same emotions are stirring to life, but for a significantly different reason.

I had only been thinking of myself during those initial hours after Ford and Dom had escorted me out of the clinic. Only my survival. My focus was singular, selfish. It had to be.

After several days of getting to know these men. Of being treated to the most amazing experiences and the most dejected ones, too, I can’t think knowing that they might get hurt. That they might be the ones in danger and not me.

If anything happened to Ford or Dom, or God forbid, even Odin—the one man who might deserve it the most—I don’t know how I’d handle it.

If I was the only one to walk off this plane. I would crumble.

There’s still so much I want to uncover. So many sides of Odin I want to lure out into the sunlight. The idea of that being taken away from me is horrible.

Shaking, I splash some water onto my face and take a few calming breaths. I need to stop thinking about things that haven’t occurred yet because, deep down, I trust them.

I…trustthem. I really do.

They would never intentionally harm me, and they would neverputme in harm’s way.

I repeat that realization over and over as I make my way to my seat. But when I try to sit, Odin’s hands come around my waist and pull me into his lap. I collapse with a tiny yelp, my hands flying to his chest.

He grips my chin with his warm fingers, leaning in close so he can murmur, “We are diving into the wolf’s den tomorrow. We need to practice.”

“Practice what?”

“Hating each other.”

It takes me several seconds to understand what he is saying. I try to turn my head to look at the hostess, but Odin holds me steady. “Bold of you to assume I need practice.”

His lips quirk a little, but I’m positive he doesn’t believe me. He doesn’t respond with words to my statement, nor does he ask me a question. The thumb on the hand around my waist moves an inch. Up and down. Quick and fleeting. Then again, a little longer, a little harder.

My breath turns heavy. My chest squeezes and squeezes.

I look deep into his eye, seeing what he can’t voice. What he doesn’t want to say lest it frighten me. “Okay,” I whisper and snap my chin out of his hold, looking disgusted by our closeness. It’s so much harder than I thought.

There’s nothing disgusting about how strong he feels, how pleasant. My ass fits snugly into the crock of his hip. His abdomen is rippled and tight against my ribs. His breath is minty, and his lips are so sexy I’m trying very hard not to imagine us kissing. Again.

Odin eases me back into my acting role. “Pass me my drink.”

Seething, I lean forward to grab the whiskey glass. Ford locks eyes with me from across the plane. Knowing he is alone at the currentmoment—the attendant out of sight—he sends me a quick wink and looks away again.

We keep up our silent ruse. I cross my arms and sit as stiff as I can, making it clear that I am not comfortable being so close to him. But it only lasts so long. As the interior lights go out in replace of tiny glowing dots on the roof that look like stars, exhaustion takes over.

I sag into Odin’s body, seeking his warmth, his comfort and protection. I have no idea how his thighs haven’t gone dead by now, but he doesn’t shift. I’m hyper aware of the fact my own thighs are near his middle. Dangerously close to an area of his that I wanted to explore so badly last night.

This would be such a perfect time to flirt, to flutter my eyelashes and place hot kisses along his neck. Tasting him for the first time.

Instead, his body heat and the rumbling of the plane engine are rocking me to sleep, ruining the act that I am supposed to be keeping up.

Making sure we aren’t being watched, I turn my head till my lips are near his cheek. “I’m tired.”

God, it feels so good to be with him like this. So fuckinggood.

I’ve been in fight and flight for so long, this moment to relax and let someone cradle me, protect me, is so infectious, so beautiful that I refuse to let it go.

We both have broken hearts, he and I. We both are searching for a way to curb loneliness. And I think we might have found comfort in each other. At least for this small amount of time, anyway.

His thumb moves, touching the space between the top of my jeans and the bottom of my shirt. I have to catch a moan behind my teeth. “You’re doing so well,” Odin says. Straightening, I try to put energy into my system. Try to push oxygen around my blood in the hopes it will forcemy body to respond. It’s useless. Especially since Odin keeps running his thumb in one tiny spot that might as be my very soul.

My eyelids drift close, my heart rate slows. If I could just put my head into the crook of his neck, I would sleep peacefully. Perfectly.

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