Page 2 of Taming Irish

He’s good looking. I don’t need to see him to know it. The way he stands, relaxed and yet taking up all the space around him. The arrogance that rolls off him. He’s a man who knows how to use his charm and looks to get exactly what hewants.

I know histype.

Chad had the same way about him. Like life was one giant smorgasbord to be devoured, no matter whose heart got crushed while he consumedit.

Bastard.

The plane shakes, tilting one way and then the other, causing my stomach to roll and sweat to bead on the back of myneck.

“Everything’s fine,” I mutter, my fingers whitening around the armrests. But I can already feel one of my anxiety attacks starting to press in the center of mychest.

The man is still blocking the entrance to the lavatory, and as much as I don’t want to interrupt the couple’s little tryst, I need to splash cold water on my face before I starthyperventilating.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and stand, my legs feeling like they’re going to collapse under me as I start down theaisle.

“Excuse me,” I mumble when I reachthem.

The man is even bigger than I thought. A good foot taller than my tiny, five-foot-two frame. Broad shoulders pull his black t-shirt tight, and the muscles in his back bunch and coil under the material with each smallmovement.

I swallow past the appreciative lump that’s formed in mythroat.

“Excuse me,” I say, louder this time. Too loud. God, why do I have to be soawkward?

His movements are slow as he straightens, but the stewardess quickly ducks away, her cheeks a bright shade of red, obviously embarrassed to have been caught ogling one of thepassengers.

Not that I blame her. I haven’t even seen the man’s face and his presence is alreadyintoxicating.

He still blocks the door of lavatory, and even though I don’t look up, I can feel his heavy gaze taking me in, assessing me, waiting forsomething.

With a frustrated breath, I bite out, “Would youplease-”

The plane shakes and I have to place a palm on the wall to steady myself. When I do, my arm grazes his. Warmth spreads through me. Little pinpricks of heat that play tricks with my mind. I quickly pullaway.

With a cocky grin that I catch from the corner of my eye, the man leans toward me and says with a deep, Irish brogue, “Would Iwhat?”

The suggestion in his voice sends both a tremor of excitement and a shock of warning through my system, and for a heartbeat I contemplate what it would be like to have more than just his gaze, that I sense roaming down my body, onme.

Largehands.

Thick, cordedmuscles.

The heavy bulge in hispants…

Shit. Focus,Makena.

But every dirty thought I’ve ever imagined blasts through my mind, and this stranger is starring in the leadrole.

One long, heated second passes before I’m jerked back toreality.

Another jolt and the seatbelt sign above the man’s head turns on, followed by a flight attendant’s voice on the intercom. “We’re heading into a bit of bad weather. The captain has turned on the seatbelt sign. Please return to your seats and keep your seatbelts fastened. Thankyou.”

I don’t have time to start back before the next series of bounces make the plane creak and groan like it’s collapsing in on itself. I let out a small squeal as the cabin pressure drops and I’m momentarily weightless, before being slammed back down, and tumbling forward into a wall of hard, sinewymuscle.

“Steady there, love.” The words roll from the cocky grin that stretches across the man’s lips, in a deep Irish brogue. Large hands grip my upper arms, and heat blasts through the thin fabric of my shirt at thecontact.

Silently, I curse the ache that starts between my legs from the closeness of hisbody.

My divorce was only official two months ago, but it’s been years since anyone has touched me as intimately as this man isnow.

---