Chapter Five
Oh. My. God.
Her whole body pulsated. That had been…more than she had ever dreamed of. His head between her thighs was the most erotic thing she had ever seen. She could have come just from looking at him. But the feel of his hot wet tongue had been out of this world. A ripple of residual pleasure ran through her.
He lowered himself over her, balancing on his elbows. Then he kissed her, and she could taste herself on his lips. She wasn’t sure about that, but didn’t have time to analyze the feelings because his cock was nudging at the entrance to her body. And he was hot and huge, and she had this appalling idea that he wouldn’t actually fit.
He hadn’t been this big in her fantasies. Her vibrator certainly wasn’t as big.
Maybe she should have told him she’d never done this before. Well, not in real life anyway. But she had a feeling that little piece of trivia might have shattered the mood.
And might still shatter the mood…
Yeah. She was definitely not telling him she was a virgin.
Or at least would be until…
She clamped her lips closed and screwed her eyes up tight as he filled her with one hard thrust of his hips.
Surprisingly, he went in easily. And he was in there all the way. She’d felt no pain, just a stretching and a fullness.
Not so bad.
She could do this. She might even enjoy it. She gave a little wiggle of her hips, and he groaned, a low, almost painful sound.
She opened one eye and peeked up at him. And almost wished she hadn’t. His eyes were closed, nostrils flared, lips tight. He looked fierce and gorgeous and a whole lot of desperate. He wanted her, that was for sure, and at the thought, something twisted in her chest.
His eyes opened, dark as midnight, and he stared down at her. “Okay?” She nodded, and the corner of his lips tilted. “Thank God.”
Then he was moving, pulling out of her slowly, lulling her into a sense of security. He was almost out, and her fingers itched with the need to drag him back. Not for long. He shoved back into her, hard and fast, and she bit back a yelp more of shock than pain.
“Sorry,” he muttered, going still above her.
“No, it’s good.” He was big, and she bent her knees to give him more room, wrapped her legs around his waist and lifted her hips in silent encouragement.
He didn’t need any more. He drew back, pushed in, out, then in. Her brain ceased to function, and she gave herself up to the overpowering feelings engulfing her. Lowering himself closer, he nuzzled her neck, and her senses filled up with the scent of him, warm male, salty, some sharp citrusy smell. His hard body rubbed against her breasts with each thrust, and all the feelings coalesced into a warm heavy weight of pleasure swelling inside her.
She could already feel her orgasm building, and she rolled her hips trying to get some relief. He must have noticed because he changed his rhythm, and with each stroke, he ground his pelvic bone over her sensitized clit. She relaxed, gave herself over to the feelings, let the swell of pleasure burst and wash over her.
He sped up, coming up on his elbows, his movements almost frantic, and she gripped his shoulders so she wouldn’t be swept away. Finally, his back arched and he came with a low groan.
“Christ.”
He kept pumping into her as though he couldn’t stop. At last he collapsed onto her, then almost immediately he pulled away and rolled onto his back, arms flung over his head.
As soon as he was gone, Lexi became aware of her surroundings, a stone digging into her spine, the stars above them, the lights of the city. He was quiet and hadn’t moved, and she shifted onto her side to look at him.
He was still wearing his shirt, fully buttoned, and his suit pants, which were open. Not the most romantic sight in the world. But then this wasn’t about romance. She wasn’t actually sure what it was about. Desperation was probably the best explanation on her part, and she was beginning to think it might also be a good description of Josh’s state of mind. Obviously, she didn’t have anything to compare it to, but there had definitely been more than a hint of desperation in his actions.
As though he sensed her watching him, his face turned toward her, and his eyes opened. They held a sleepy, almost sated look as his gaze wandered over her. Her dress was wide open, and her panties were somewhere in the grass, and her body was all warm and tingly and sensitive. She didn’t want to move.
He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “That was fucking fantastic,” he muttered. “And shouldn’t have happened. But right now I feel too good to think about it.” He discretely disposed of the condom, straightened his clothes, and then got to his feet. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he raised an eyebrow.
Clearly Josh was a love ’em and leave ’em sort of guy, and she wasn’t moving fast enough. At least he wasn’t just walking away.
She got to her feet and pulled the dress around her, searching for her panties in the grass. Josh bent down, picked something up, and tossed the scrap of lace to her. She decided not to put them on—they were probably covered in ants—and balled them into her fist.
He was already walking away. As she followed, a sense of anticlimax prodded at her. But really, what had she expected: a declaration of true love? No, she didn’t expect or want that. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, or why her eyes were prickling.
Get a grip.
He glanced back over his shoulder, a look of irritation on his face, as though he couldn’t wait to get out of there, and she hurried to catch up. Taking the lead, she led him back to the gate they had come through. It was locked now, and she pulled the key from her purse and fumbled a little as she opened it. He followed her through. She locked the gate behind her, then traipsed after him to his car.
He was already opening the door, but he turned to face her. “I’ll wait until you’re safe inside,” he said, nodding toward the house.
What a gentleman.
So he was going, just like that. Maybe it was for the best. But her eyes felt tight and she blinked.
She shrugged away the feeling until she was alone and could analyze it without fear of embarrassing herself. Instead, she gave him a quick nod and headed for the gate at the back of her garden. She turned before she opened it.
“Thank you,” she said politely. “That was…nice.” She didn’t wait for an answer, just slipped inside and didn’t look back. The car door slammed as she was halfway across the yard.
Ten minutes later, as she drifted off to sleep, it occurred to her that an annulment was no longer an option.
…
It was only eight in the morning when Josh pulled up outside the house. But he wanted this over with.
Had she played him?
When he’d left her, he’d been totally aware that he’d acted like a jerk, that he should have been…nicer, said something complimentary. He’d been so busy beating himself up that it hadn’t occurred to him until he was halfway home that now, thanks to his disobedient dick—he’d told it to stay in his pants—an easy annulment wasn’t an option.
Had that been her intention all along?
He’d talked to his lawyer that morning, and a quickie divorce was now his best bet. But it would mean neither party disputing it.
Had she taken advantage of a vulnerable man desperate for sex? Any sex. Except it hadn’t been any sex. It might have been awhile, but still he reckoned it was the best sex he’d ever had. God, but she’d felt good. Hot and wet and tight around him. He shifted in the seat, just the memory having the power to drain the blood from his brain to his dick.
And he needed his brain for the coming conversation.
He remembered the moment she’d tripped in those ridiculous heels. Had she fallen on purpose? But played or not, there was going to be no repeat performance, and his dick would have to accept that.
He hadn’t taken much notice of the house the night before, his attention all on Lexi. The road was wide, and the buildings all detached, with big gardens so they stood well back from the street. In an affluent part of the city, close to Hampstead Heath, this place must be worth millions.
But the actual house gave off an air of unkemptness. The wrought iron gates were in need of painting. They were shut, but through them he could make out a badly maintained garden, the lawn overgrown, huge rhododendron bushes overhanging the drive and obscuring the house from his view. Last night she’d said she had a gardener—the man was doing a crap job.
A squeal rang out and a child raced into view, followed by a dog—a three-legged dog, who didn’t seem at all hampered by his disability. They disappeared from sight and Josh frowned, checked the address one more time. Could the child be Lexi’s? Then he realized that he was too old; he must have been eight, at least.
The gate opened when he pushed, and he stepped inside and closed it behind him. Toys littered the lawn, and a swing and slide set stood by the perimeter wall. The house was beautiful. The clean square lines appealed to him, but like the garden it was in definite need of some attention. The red paint of the front door was faded and peeling. A rambling rose, covered in yellow flowers, obscured most of the stonework.
A huge wolfhound-type dog lay on the bottom step; it raised its head as he passed but made no other move. Two cats dozed on the window ledge, and as he halted by the front door, a couple of moth-eaten chickens strutted out from behind a rhododendron. They hopped up the steps and stood, eyeing him up beadily.
Surreal.
He shook his head.
The front door was slightly ajar. Where was the doorbell? When he didn’t find one, he knocked on the wood—
And the door swung open. He could hear the low murmur of voices, but no one came to his knock.
He stepped inside. The hallway was as shabby as the outside of the house, but strangely welcoming. The floors were wooden, the walls dark red and hung at every few feet with paintings of animals. Weirdly bizarre paintings. He was staring at one of a blue and purple cockerel when a door off to the side opened. A woman stood there. Not Lexi. She had to be at least seventy, slender, with long white hair tied back and paint-spattered jeans. Lexi’s mother? Somehow he didn’t think so.
“Joshua?”
“Yeah?”
“Is Lexi expecting you?”
“Not exactly.”
She frowned. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”
…
She slept long and hard and woke with a headache.
They were going to have to talk…again…and she really hoped Josh wasn’t going to be difficult. Maybe he’d still be floating about in a happy post-coital haze. But somehow she doubted she’d be that lucky.
The weird thing was, although she’d thought about it in the car, in the end, she hadn’t had sex to hold him, or to stop him getting the annulment he was so keen on. She’d done it because she wanted him. Just once. He was her fantasy lover. And she hadn’t been able to let go of that fantasy. Not without at least one real memory.
Had it occurred to him that an annulment was no longer a viable option?
Would he be angry?
But really, it had been his fault as much as hers. Even so, she had to remember that Josh wasn’t her friend. He wasn’t her lover. He was a man she had made a business deal with who she just happened to have spent the last few years fantasizing about. In reality, he was nothing to her. And she was nothing to him. Not like all the other people and animals who relied on her.
She had to think of them and find a way to convince Josh to cooperate.
Money was out of the question. He’d clearly done well for himself.
What else could she do? Appeal to his better nature? Did he even have one?
Would he come to see her or was she going to have to see him?
And then there was Harry’s imminent arrival to deal with. Could she put him in the basement? And her grandmother and Daniel’s appointment to get through. The urge to pull the covers over her head and hide overwhelmed her.
“Lexi!”
Someone shouted up the stairs. She couldn’t tell who with the blankets over her head, and she reluctantly pushed them down and waited for more.
“There’s someone to see you.” Jean’s voice shouted up the stairwell.
Her heart sank.
Let the day commence.
…
He watched as Jean came back down the stairs. He’d heard her shout from the first floor landing.
“Lexi will be down in a moment,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“Why don’t you come through to the kitchen and wait?”
He followed her through the door and into a huge kitchen. The scent of fresh bread filled the air, and his stomach rumbled. The place was crowded. A big wooden table stood in the center of the room, a large tabby cat curled up in the middle, and people were seated all around. Two more dogs stretched out on the floor, and another chicken sat in a basket to the side of a huge empty fireplace.
“That’s Tom,” Jean said.
Tom nodded. He was a dark-haired man in his early twenties, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, his expression not particularly friendly. This was the man Lexi had mentioned last night?
“And that’s Sarah.” Jean gestured toward a woman in her early thirties who waggled her fingers at him. “And Jason and Chloe.” The boy he’d seen in the garden, his hand resting on the head of the three-legged dog, and a little girl a couple of years younger. Neither looked anything like Lexi. Who the hell were all these people?
“Hi,” he said to the room in general. “I’m Josh.”
Jean pulled out a chair from the table, gently nudged off a sleeping kitten. “Have a seat. I’m sure she won’t be long.”
Tom snorted. “Lexi’s not at her best in the mornings. She doesn’t move very quickly.”
Josh cast him a sharp look. How the hell did he know what Lexi was like first thing in the morning? Last night, Lexi had said there was nothing between the two of them. What had she said about the other man—she’d met him on the Heath one day and invited him to move in? The woman was a danger to herself. She needed someone to look after her.
But not me.
He didn’t do looking after.
Not anymore. Never again.
He glanced at the chair; he didn’t want to sit. He might need to make a quick getaway. They were all studying him. Did they know who he was? He edged into the room and perched on the seat.
“Can I get you a coffee?” Jean asked, pulling him from his thoughts. He found he was staring at the chicken as it clucked softly. Who the hell had a live chicken in their kitchen?
“No, thanks.”
Nobody said anything, and he looked longingly at the door. After ten minutes, Tom put his mug down and got to his feet. “I’m off to work.”
The others all rose one by one. “I have to take the kids to school,” Sarah said.
“And you can drop me off in the High Street.” Jean collected all the mugs and put them in the sink, and a minute later Josh was alone.
The place was a complete and utter madhouse.
The house was more like a rescue center for stray humans and chickens than a civilized home. He had the urge to…tidy everything up, to ask them what they were doing—no doubt freeloading off his far too generous wife.
He thought about getting up and getting a coffee, but instead sat tracing patterns on the scrubbed wooden table with one finger. A sense of peace filled him—unexpected, but there was something about this house, despite the chaos, that was restful. Maybe it was all the sleeping animals, a lullaby of gentle snores.
He’d been restless for a long time; he hadn’t noticed as it crept up on him. Not unhappy exactly—he’d been too busy to be unhappy, but plagued by a nagging sense of futility. What was all the hard work for? He’d come so far, overcome his crappy background, but for what?
In the six weeks since that damn cruise ship had gone down, he’d examined his life from every angle, trying to come up with answers for how he wanted to move forward. It was strange, but the accident had changed him more than he would have thought possible. Coming face-to-face with death would do that. Recuperating at Vito’s villa on Sicily, he’d had a lot of time to think, but he had failed to come up with any solutions.
He’d thought all he wanted was sex. But last night he’d had sex…and now he wanted more sex. Had woken that morning with a raging hard-on, and he was fed up with jerking off in the shower.
He knew what he didn’t want—he didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else. That was never going to change. But did it mean he had to go through life alone? Wasn’t that the way he liked things?
Since he was seventeen, he’d pushed everyone away, isolated himself. But Logan and Vito had become true friends. Logan actually lived not far from here—he’d recognized the road as he drove up this morning.
The dogs all jumped up and hurled themselves at the door, dragging him from his thoughts.
Whatever else, she wasn’t trying to impress him. Lexi stood in the doorway, wearing faded jeans torn at the knee and a pale pink camisole top that looked like she might have slept in it. And nothing underneath—which meant he could see her nipples pressed against the soft cotton. He wished he hadn’t noticed that.
Her feet were bare, and her hair looked like it hadn’t been combed, a wild tangle of dark red curls. Smothering a yawn with one hand, she stroked the dogs with the other, and then she eyed him warily as she shuffled across the kitchen toward the coffee machine on the other side. With her back to him, she poured a cup and then stood staring out of the window as she sipped the coffee.
He waited for her to turn, but he didn’t speak. She was so small, tiny, almost fragile. She hadn’t felt fragile last night. He had a flashback to the feel of her arms around him, holding him tight. The taste of her. And with that thought, he had another surge of inconvenient blood to his groin.
Don’t go there.
“You have a chicken,” he said as she finally turned around. The words sounded almost like an accusation.
She blinked as though trying to make sense of his words. “That’s Prudence.” She waved a hand at the chicken by the fireplace. “But I have four. They’re rescue chickens.”
“What the hell is a rescue chicken?”
“They’re ex-battery hens. From a battery farm. There’s this organization that frees them, but then they need new homes. Did you know, chickens are actually very intelligent? They can recognize up to a hundred individuals.”
He shook his head as if it was beyond his comprehension.
“And they lay eggs.” She shrugged. “I like chickens.”
“And who the hell were all those people?”
“They live there.” She gave another little lift of her shoulders. “It’s a big house. There’s plenty of room.”
She sank onto the seat opposite him. As she took a deep breath, he caught a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability in her face before she blanked out her expression. “I’ll give you more money if you keep to the original deal.”
His muscles tightened. She thought she could pay him off? “Do you think your money can buy everything?”
Her arched brows drew together. “It bought you the first time,” she pointed out in a reasonable tone that had anger sizzling along his nerves.
But she was right. However much he might hate it, it had been her money that had started his business. Without it, he would have been successful eventually, but it would have taken him a lot longer. That hadn’t been why he’d taken the money, it had been for something else entirely. Something he’d considered vitally important at the time. It had turned out not to matter. He could have given the money back then. But he hadn’t, so maybe he deserved her comment. But it didn’t make him like the situation anymore.
“I don’t need your money.”
She sighed and rubbed a finger between her eyes, as though she had a headache. “I was afraid of that. But we can’t get an annulment.”
“Did you arrange that?”
Something flashed in her eyes, and his anger ratcheted a notch. “Did I deliberately set out to seduce you so you couldn’t get an annulment?” She shook her head. “No. You don’t know me very well, but that isn’t something I would do.”
But he’d seen that telltale flash of guilt in her eyes, and now her skin colored slightly. He was a goddamn idiot, taken in by a pretty face and a lush little body.
“Then we’ll get a divorce.”
“I’ll contest it, and it will take more than the six months I’ve asked for. Why not accept it, and then afterward we can get the divorce and you’ll be free of me.” She gave him that sweet smile, the one that did weird things to his insides and made him want to be a better person. And he hardened himself to the reaction.
“Come on, Josh. It’s the only sensible option.”
Thing was—he hated being manipulated. And he had a feeling she was doing just that.
“No, there’s another option. How about you agree to the quickie divorce my lawyer is drawing up right now, or I pay a visit to Grandmamma and tell her about out little arrangement?”
He didn’t wait for her to reply—the look of horror in her eyes was answer enough. And suddenly he felt like a complete piece of shit. But she thought she could play him, and he hated that.
He pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “Call me and let me know your decision.”
Fifteen minutes later, he was sitting at the table in Logan’s much smarter kitchen—all black and silver and immaculately clean and organized, and not a chicken in sight.
“How’s it going?” Logan asked.
He shrugged. “I fucked things up big time.”
Logan raised an eyebrow.
“You could say I fucked and I fucked up.”
“You slept with your wife?”
“We didn’t actually sleep.” What would it be like to sleep wrapped around all that softness?
“You had sex with the woman you were going to get an annulment from?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought she wasn’t your type.”
“She isn’t.”
Logan rubbed a hand along his jawline. “I suppose after five years that probably wouldn’t make much of a difference.”
“I think she played me. She said no to the annulment.”
“And then seduced you to make sure?”
“Maybe.” Actually he was pretty sure they’d seduced each other.
Logan was grinning. “Poor Josh. Taken advantage of by a woman.”
“Now she wants us to stay married for six months, then she’ll give me a quiet, quickie divorce.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“Shit yeah. I want to be free. I want more sex, and I don’t mean married sex.” He ran a hand through his hair. “She scares me. She’s, like, totally crazy and disorganized and scattered as hell, and she has all these hangers-on—animals and people. She has a chicken in her kitchen—not a dead one like normal people, but a real live fucking chicken. It even has a name. And it doesn’t like me. And she has this family, and they’re all assholes, and she needs looking after. Seriously. And I don’t do that shit. She is everything I do not want. So from now on, no more sex with my fucking wife.”
Logan’s lips twitched.
“Don’t fucking laugh at me. I’m in trouble. I haven’t felt this horny since I was fourteen. I need this fixed and soon.”
“What else?”
“I sort of threatened to tell her asshole relatives that she wasn’t really married.”
“Wrong move.”
“Definitely.” Especially as there was no way he’d do it. He hated making empty threats.
Logan thought for a moment. “Is she a bad person?”
“No, she’s…nice.”
“Then go talk to her. You’d be amazed by how much talking can achieve. Find out why she needs to stay married, and maybe you can sort something out between you.”
Yeah, talk to her.
But no touching.
He’d phone. How much trouble could he get into on the phone?