When Christakos Meets His Match. Эбби Грин

      Sidonie slid her gaze from Alexio’s, afraid he might see something of her very deep shame revealed. It wasn’t exactly the way things had happened, but near enough. He didn’t need to know the darker secrets of her parents’ relationship and her origins. Or about subsequent shattering events.

      She looked at him. ‘And you?’

      His expression became veiled, piquing her interest.

      ‘My mother was Spanish and my father is Greek. But you probably knew that.’

      Sidonie answered, ‘I didn’t realise your mother was Spanish...’

      ‘I presume your fluent French is from your mother?’

      Sidonie nodded and took another sip of tea. She realised then that if only she wasn’t so aware of Alexio it would actually be quite nice talking to him.

      ‘She spoke French to me all the time, and my father encouraged it. He knew it would come in handy at some stage.’

      ‘You were close to your father?’

      She nodded. ‘Why do you ask?’

      Alexio reached out and to Sidonie’s shock touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers for a fleeting second.

      ‘Because your face softened when you mentioned him.’

      Sidonie touched her cheek where he had touched her and felt embarrassed. She ducked her face again, wishing her hair was down so she could hide. ‘I loved him. He was a wonderful man.’

      ‘You’re lucky to have had that... My father...we don’t exactly see eye to eye.’

      Sidonie glanced back at him, grateful for the attention to be off her, and laughed slightly. ‘Surely he must be one of the proudest fathers in the world?’

      Alexio smiled, but it was grim. ‘Ah, but my success didn’t come through him. I fought for my own piece of the pie and he’s never forgiven me for it.’

      * * *

      Just then they were interrupted again, when a different stewardess came along to clear up their rubbish. It gave Alexio a reality check and he balked inwardly.

      What on earth was he doing? Blithely spilling his guts to a complete stranger because he was momentarily mesmerised by pale skin, beautiful eyes and a very supple, slim body?

      When the stewardess had gone and Alexio was still berating himself he saw Sidonie undo her seatbelt buckle.

      She looked at him expectantly before saying, ‘I need to go to the bathroom. Please.’

      Relieved to have a chance to gather his completely scattered senses, Alexio undid his own seatbelt and stood up. Deliberately he didn’t move out into the aisle completely, so that Sidonie had to brush past him. He saw the flash in her eyes, making them sparkle a brilliant blue-green, and felt that punch to his gut again.

      As she went past him he saw that she was doing her best not to touch him, but even the most fleeting glance of her hip against his thigh sent shards of desire into his belly. He couldn’t help but smell her scent—cool and crisp, with a hint of something floral. That was what she was like—one minute spiky, the next as soft as a fresh rose. And as alluring.

      She was taller than he had expected—about five foot seven...

      When he’d sat down again, and she’d moved down the aisle to the bathroom, Alexio stuck his head out to watch her, his blood heating through every vein and artery at the way her skinny jeans hugged her slim, shapely legs and cupped her surprisingly lush derriere. To Alexio’s consternation he saw more than one other male head dip out to take a look too as she passed.

      It felt as if he hadn’t taken a proper breath since he’d seen her take off that horrific sweatshirt. He’d happened to look at her for her response when the stewardess had asked if she wanted something, only to find her in the act of taking it off. He’d been unable to look away as Sidonie had fought with the voluminous material, gradually showing tantalising glimpses of pale flesh, slim arms, tiny wrists, delicate shoulders and collarbone.

      She’d emerged flushed, and Alexio’s libido had been suddenly ravenous. She was wearing a vest top, with a loose singlet over it, so she was showing nothing that wasn’t completely respectable. But she might as well have been naked, the effect within Alexio was so violent. He felt like a Victorian man seeing bared arms for the first time; they were almost provocative in their slim, delicately muscled definition.

      He’d sat there with a raging erection, trying in vain to concentrate on the conversation and those flashing expressive eyes and not let his gaze drift down to where her small but lush cleavage was revealed under those two tops. The hint of a bright pink bra strap every now and then had enflamed him more than the most expensive lingerie modelled by any of his previous lovers. The memory of his Latin lover of last night was being comprehensively eclipsed.

      Alexio wanted to see her—all of her—with a hunger that might ordinarily cause him to stop and think. He could already imagine her perfectly formed breasts, made to fit a man’s hands like plump fruits. Would her nipples be small and peaked? Or large and succulent? He hadn’t been able to resist touching her hot cheek for a second. Her skin was as soft and unblemished as a peach.

      This was the kind of desire he’d missed for so long. The kind he’d lamented not feeling last night. Urgent and hot. Utterly compelling. As if he couldn’t envisage not getting off this plane and taking Sidonie with him so that he could taste her all over. And Alexio had to wonder in that moment if he’d ever really felt like this. Or had it just been a figment of his imagination till now?

      The revelation sent him reeling, and he wasn’t prepared at all when a soft voice said hesitantly, ‘Er...excuse me, Mr Christakos?’

      He looked up and there she was, and just like that any semblance of clear-headedness was gone. He was reduced to animal lust again. Her breasts were in his eyeline and he could see the thrust of her nipples against the thin fabric of her two tops, like berries. He had to get up and let her back in, cursing his body, which would not obey his head.

      One thing he was sure of as she brushed past him in the small space again and her scent tantalised him: he wanted this Sidonie Fitzgerald with her husky voice with a hunger he’d not known before. And he would have her. Because Alexio Christakos always got what he wanted. Especially women.

      * * *

      Sidonie sat down again and tried to hang on to the control she’d struggled to find in the tiny bathroom space just moments before. She’d splashed cold water on her face, as if that might wake her from the trance she seemed to be in.

      Any return of her equilibrium had been short-lived. As soon as she’d got back Alexio Christakos had looked at her—that molten green gaze travelling up from her breasts to her face—and it had been so intense...almost predatory. Her whole body had reacted to it, igniting like a flame. Even the air seemed to be crackling between them now, as if something had been turned up a notch.

      He’s a playboy, he’s a playboy, she repeated like a mantra in her head. He’s programmed to go after anything with a pulse. But Sidonie grimaced at that. Alexio Christakos, according to her fellow enamoured students, was discerning—only choosing the most stunning models and actresses. The beauties of this era. And Sidonie, with her fair colouring, freckles and wayward hair, did not fall into that category. Not by a long shot. This crazy desire...whatever it was she was feeling...she had to be imagining it.

      A wave of mortification rushed up through her body, sending her hot and cold. Was she projecting her own pathetic subconscious fantasies onto this man who had the misfortune to be paired with her for the flight?

      She heard him clear his throat beside her and was almost scared to look. She could sense his gaze on her—or could she? With a sick desire to know how badly she’d been deluding herself Sidonie turned her head and met that green gaze head-on. Slamming into it, almost. The breath left her mouth in a little sigh. Her belly swooped and her skin tingled all over. Her nipples drew so tight she