preserve her precious family and he had taken what she gave without a moment’s hesitation. It was a sobering conclusion and he fell silent, irritated by the conscience that had come out of nowhere at him the day before to destroy his peace of mind. Elvi was as foreign to him as an alien would’ve been, he conceded grimly. That happy-clappy, positive attitude, that selfless streak of loyalty and love a mile wide. But no doubt his conscience would give up the fight and die again through lack of encouragement.
‘So, where in Greece are we going exactly?’
‘Thira, the island where I was born, not the most exciting destination if you’re into partying,’ Xan pronounced, but his hard, dark eyes and his intonation could not hide his fondness for the place, Elvi noted with interest as she learned that what Xan said did not always match what she read in his voice or expression. He was inherently deceptive, calculating too, and far too clever for his own good, she reminded herself warningly, but she could not help remembering the man who had thought to drag Sylvia out at dawn to help Elvi pack for a society wedding because Elvi had not had a clue what to wear or of how hot it would be in Greece. Occasionally, he could be thoughtful and he could identify potential problems in advance in a way she could not.
‘And to celebrate the occasion of your very first flight...’ Xan murmured as the steward approached them with a bottle of champagne. ‘I know you don’t usually imbibe but surely one glass—?’
Rather overwhelmed by the gesture he had made, Elvi nodded vigorous agreement, keen to prevent him from sharing all her secrets with the cabin staff. Xan paid no heed to hovering employees when he spoke, being apparently so accustomed to their presence that they might as well have been invisible. She clasped the moisture-beaded flute of champagne, bubbles bursting and tickling her nose as she sipped and politely smiled.
‘It wouldn’t have felt the same with orange juice,’ Xan asserted.
She almost disagreed, tempted to say that it was the thought behind his gesture that mattered most, only such a comment seemed too revealing when she considered it and instead she said nothing. She sipped her drink while Xan told her about the island of Thira and his family home there. Only the family aspect didn’t seem to be on his radar because, while he told her that his grandfather had built the house and his father had extended it, he mentioned neither his mother nor his siblings again. He told her about the private beach where he had learned to swim, the freedom of exploring the island as a boy and it all sounded idyllic, not what she had expected when he’d admitted to his father’s five matrimonial forays.
‘You can’t possibly be getting tipsy on one glass,’ Xan said abruptly when she giggled like a drain at only the mildest of jokes.
‘It was topped up,’ she reminded him, holding her breath to try and kill the giggles that had foamed out of her in a spontaneous tide.
Long brown fingers twitched the glass from between her fingers and set it aside. ‘I want you sober,’ he told her.
‘I am,’ she insisted, leaning forward, bright blue eyes locked to his lean, strong features, pale white-blonde hair rippling round her heart-shaped face.
Xan shifted in his seat opposite her, raw arousal humming through his big powerful body with almost painful intensity. ‘Let’s be frank,’ he breathed in a driven undertone. ‘I want you any way I can have you—’
‘That can’t be true,’ Elvi responded uncomfortably. ‘I’m no show-stopper—’
‘You stop me in my tracks,’ Xan reasoned.
Colour drenched her cheeks but the strangest little spark of energy danced through her veins, quickening her heartbeat and her breathing pattern. Nobody had ever wanted her like that. She fed herself excuses about how she rarely got the opportunity to even meet men, but Xan had only seen her a handful of times in passing and he hadn’t forgotten her again. That made her feel important, special and infinitely less ordinary because she reckoned Xan could have any woman he wanted.
‘Ditto,’ she conceded in an awkward mutter when he appeared to be awaiting a response from her.
And Xan laughed and leapt upright without warning to simply lift her out of her seat and tumble her down on his lap as he sat down again. ‘Thought you were never going to admit that,’ he growled with unashamed satisfaction.
For once she didn’t begrudge him that satisfaction. ‘I don’t lie,’ she murmured with pride.
‘All women lie,’ Xan declared, lifting big brown hands to frame her face, brushing her hair back behind her small ears, his potent amber eyes hot and golden and bright with hunger.
‘No, we don’t—’
‘What weight are you?’ Xan shot back at her.
And she told him and he told her she couldn’t possibly be that weight, standing up to set her down on her feet and lifting her again with a very funny fake grunt of effort that made her giggle helplessly. Xan mock-collapsed back into his seat still gripping her tight before hoisting her up on her knees to sit facing astride him, disconcerting her, killing her giggling fit.
‘I wouldn’t admit to being that heavy if I wasn’t,’ she pointed out more circumspectly, barely able to catch her breath that close to him, uneasy at the sudden intimacy, wondering how to remove herself back to her own seat without making a production out of it.
Xan stared down at her ripe pink lips and surrendered to the inevitable without an ounce of concern. He teased at that full lower lip, pressed them softly apart, darted, delved with enthusiasm and felt every inch of her tighten and quiver with response against him. His fingers trailed up a slim silky thigh to the heart of her, teasing fingers sliding below her knickers to locate the most sensitive spot and dallying there to make her moan feverishly into his mouth.
Elvi knew she ought to tell him to stop but she couldn’t fight the seduction of sensation engulfing her in a shimmying surge of intense pleasure. She trembled over him, breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding inside her with electrifying anticipation. She squirmed as he stroked and teased and what she had believed she would never welcome again, she suddenly wanted with ferocious intensity. She buried her face against his shoulder, frantically breathing in the familiar scent of his skin, pressing her mouth against the strong brown column of his throat until his other hand caught into her hair to yank her head up. He drove her soft lips apart with a savage kiss of sizzling hunger at the same time as the tightening bands of tension in her pelvis sent her rocketing to her peak. Gasping, moaning, sobbing for breath, she came apart in his arms, shattered into so many pieces she barely recognised herself any more.
Xan settled her back into her seat and, although he was hugely aroused, his frustration was soothed by her explosive reaction to him. It was so honest, so real, like no connection he had ever had with a woman before and it excited him way beyond his experience. As Elvi focused on him in a daze of post-climactic bewilderment, as if she didn’t quite know what had happened to her, Xan awarded her a dazzling smile of appreciation.
‘Later, moli mou,’ he savoured with growly masculine satisfaction.
NOTHING COULD HAVE prepared Elvi for the startling effect of Xan’s mother, Ariadne, whose temperament was so very different from her only child’s.
A helicopter had delivered Xan and Elvi to the huge sprawling
