Sam stared at Ila, battling to keep his emotions in check, something that was always difficult around her. Especially when she was the cause of them. He knew he couldn't stay angry with her forever, just as he couldn't deny the primal need to claim her.
She lay curled in the center of the massive double king-size bed aboard her family's private jet, wrapped in the softness of a white silk gown. The fabric clung to her, shifting with each slow, steady breath. He watched, enthralled, as the slit in her gown revealed the toned expanse of her thigh, a warrior's body hidden beneath deceptive softness. She should have looked harmless, innocent even, but Sam knew better than to associate her with those words.
Not with that build.
She could put a professional fighter to shame with her strong
