He gave the ghost of a smile. ‘I’m in the blue room these days. Or should I say, nights.’
‘Then I’ll have the rose room,’ she said, choosing one at the other end of the upstairs corridor. ‘That’ll be perfect.’
But Lexi was lying, because sleeping at the opposite end of the house wasn’t perfect at all. Not when he was standing there full of vibrant life—reminding her of all his dark and golden promise.
He was the only man she had ever loved. The only man she had ever wanted—and that feeling had never gone away. She could feel her sadness being stretched and weakened by a powerful moment of desire. She could feel the soft cloak of intimacy settling around them and she tried to push it away.
‘The rose room is all yours. All ready and waiting,’ he said sardonically. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘Of course it’s what I want.’ Deliberately, she widened her eyes. ‘Unless you were labouring under the misapprehension that I was going to fall straight into bed with you?’
‘I think I know you well enough to know that instant sex was never going to be a certainty, Lex. Even though right now it’s the thing which is uppermost in our minds.’
His frankness shocked her but it also excited her. And that was dangerous. ‘It might be on your mind—’
‘Come on, Lex,’ he said softly. ‘You’re surely not going to deny that you want me, that you aren’t standing there wondering what it would be like to kiss me again?’
‘I’m not.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Believe what you want. It’s no—’
He silenced her by placing a finger over her lips and Lexi felt an instant, trembling response. Her eyes met his with a powerful feeling of recognition and she knew she should have protested. But she didn’t. She didn’t do a damned thing. Not even when he moved his finger to trace it slowly along the outline of her still-trembling lips.
It had been so long since he had touched her. She’d turned her life around and made the best of what she had but sometimes it just wasn’t enough. Outwardly she might look as if she was getting on and being successful, but wasn’t the truth that sometimes she felt cold and empty and only half alive?
She could feel the stir of her breath against his finger and he must have felt it, too, because she saw his eyes grow smoky. Another danger sign—because she knew how quickly he could become aroused. She knew how effortlessly he could carry her along on that urgent flare of heat. And then what? her conscience screamed. Then what?
She wanted to pull away, but she couldn’t. He might as well have turned her into a marble statue. But marble didn’t ache, did it? And marble didn’t feel this hot flood of desire, which was pulsing inexorably through her body. Lexi closed her eyes, biting back the gasp of longing which was threatening to spring from her lips. What did it say about her, that the tip of his finger edging almost innocently against her mouth could make her want to melt?
‘Stop that,’ she said indistinctly.
He splayed his hands around the span of her waist in a movement of unthinking possession. His head dipped forward so that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. ‘You don’t mean that.’
‘I do.’
‘Then say it like you do.’
‘I don’t have to say anything.’
‘In that case I might be tempted to take your silence as compliance. Although on second thoughts, I might just admit to being tempted and leave it at that.’
She opened her eyes to see that he was lowering his head towards her and all she could read was the sexual hunger written on his face. There was all the time in the world to stop him but she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. Even when she said his name, it came out more like a plea than a protest. ‘Xenon...I... Oh.’
Their lips met in a kiss which was hard and hot and hungry. A kiss which shot right off the scale. She could hear the slam of her heart as he pulled her roughly against him. She could taste the warm mingling of their breaths and suddenly a sob was torn from her throat as she flung her arms around his neck and clung to him, railing against him even while he continued to kiss her.
Her words were muffled against his mouth. ‘You bastard. You complete and utter bastard.’
‘Call me all the names you like if it makes you feel better,’ he groaned. ‘But don’t deny you want me.’
‘No. I. Don’t.’
‘Yes. You. Do.’
His hand was cupping her breast and she was letting him do that, too. She could feel her nipple peaking against his palm and the rush of blood which engorged it so that it felt weighted and full. But this was wrong. She knew it was wrong.
‘Xenon.’ So why was his name coming out as a sultry moan as she curled her fingernails around his neck?
‘Don’t fight it, Lex. Just remind yourself how much you’ve missed this.’
‘But we’re getting a divorce.’
His answer was to pick her up and carry her over to one of the velvet sofas before lowering her down onto it. The soft pile contrasted with the hardness of the body which was pressing down on top of her and she was unable to hold back her excitement as he removed her glasses and put them carefully on the floor.
He turned back to give her his full attention, pushing her hair back from her face so that he could look at her properly, his blue eyes a blur as they burned into her. She felt exposed. Naked. A warm helplessness flooded through her as he bent his dark head to kiss her again but this time the kiss was charged with purpose.
She let her hands splay over the hard musculature of his back. She revelled in the weight of him; the scent and the taste of him. She felt the jut of his hipbones and the heavy weight of his erection as it pushed against her thighs.
It had been a long time since he had made love to her and, oh, she could tell. Her body felt as if it were on fire and her senses seemed to be sizzling into life in a way she’d forgotten could feel so good. She could feel his hand rucking up her dress and the coolness of the air as it hit her bare knees. An insistent heat began to coil through her as he parted her thighs and the pooling of heat at her feminine core was making her squirm. She wanted him to take off her panties. She wanted him deep inside her. Whispering her hands over his silk-covered torso, she heard him suck in a ragged breath. Dragging her nails over his diamond-hard nipples, she began to circle them over the straining material of his shirt and she could feel his helplessness, too.
‘Lex,’ he groaned.
She thrilled at the husky way he said her name. She lifted her hand up to his head, cradling it against her palm so that she could crush his lips even closer. She could feel the silent, slow entry of his tongue and now it was her turn to groan. She felt all her strength melting away as she reached up to grip his powerful shoulders, encountering the structured lines of his jacket as she did so. And suddenly her eyes fluttered open and she pictured what they must look like. She saw herself as if she’d just floated up to the ceiling and were looking down on the scene below. A man still in his work suit, grappling with his estranged wife on the sofa as if she were a cheap date. Starting to have sex with her right there and then, without any preamble or attempt at wooing.
And she was just lying back and letting him.
She pushed him away and this time he must have sensed that she was engaged in more than provocative play-fight, because he didn’t object. His breathing was laboured and his smoky eyes were narrowed as he stared at her.
‘What’s the matter?’
Lexi struggled to sit up, fury heating her blood as she grabbed her glasses and put them on. She wondered, if she hadn’t stopped him, whether he would have simply unzipped himself and impaled her right there on the sofa.
‘You really need to ask that?’ she breathed.
‘I’m not in the mood for riddles,’ he said, frustration making him sna
p the words out.
‘It’s not a riddle and you’re not stupid. Think about it, Xenon. You bring me into your house, knowing that this is an already complicated situation which might require a little consideration on your part. But consideration has never been part of your vocabulary, has it? Even after I expressly told you that this wasn’t going to be anything other than a masquerade marriage—you leap on me with all the finesse of a sixteen-year-old boy.’
He watched as she got up from the sofa and began to smooth her dress down, his gaze following her as she went to stand in front of the French windows. The light from the garden highlighted the outline of her long, shapely legs and the strands of hair which had worked themselves free from her plaited hair. He felt the painful twist of lust deep inside him as he glared at her. ‘Maybe that’s because you make me feel like a sixteen-year-old boy again—with all the corresponding doubts and insecurities.’
‘Doubts and insecurities?’ She gave a short laugh. ‘I don’t think so. You were born knowing how to handle a woman.’
‘Except perhaps for you,’ he said. ‘You were my one failure in a long and glittering career.’
Exasperated, she shook her head. ‘You see? Even when you’re making what might almost pass for an apology, you’re turning it into some kind of macho boast!’
‘I am what I am, Lex.’ He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I am Greek and to be macho is woven into my DNA. I thought that’s what you liked. Don’t you remember telling me that my mastery turned you on?’
Lexi bit her lip. Yes, she’d said that, and more. Much more. Things which now made her wince. But at the time she had meant them. After years of having to cope and be strong for other people, she had fallen for a man who was just as strong. Someone who was looking out for her for a change. For once it had been blissful to let someone else take charge. To let someone else make all the decisions. She just hadn’t realised that she needed to keep her own strength and that it was wrong to rely on Xenon’s. That once you gave someone else permission to take control of your life, you ended up weak and helpless. So that she seemed to have no reserves left to cope with the misfortune which had befallen them.
‘I was younger then,’ she said. ‘And naïve.’
‘And now?’
She reminded herself that she was a grown-up and not some simpering girl. She was a woman who had found her own way in the world. Just because an incompatible marriage had thrown her temporarily off course, that didn’t mean she needed to hurl herself straight back into it. And hadn’t she made a deal with him? Wasn’t she doing this for Jason? For the baby brother who’d had such an unspeakable childhood?
She fiddled with her plait, and shrugged. ‘Now I’m just doing the best I can.’
Xenon felt a sudden wave of remorse wash over him because in that moment she seemed as fragile as he’d ever seen her. ‘You look tired,’ he said.
‘I am.’ The sudden compassion in his voice disarmed her. She saw the anxiety in his face and some stupid moment of weakness made her want to reach out to him. ‘There’s no need to look so stricken, Xenon. I was just as complicit as you in what just happened. And I’m not denying that I enjoyed it—I don’t think I’d get away with a lie that big.’
His blue eyes burned with intensity. ‘So share my bed tonight.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t. You know I can’t. It would cause too many problems and open up too many wounds. And we can’t risk that kind of pain again, for both our sakes.’
His narrowed gaze was thoughtful. ‘Then you’d better go upstairs and get some rest,’ he said. ‘And I’ll see you later at dinner.’
She straightened her dress and looked up. ‘We’re having dinner?’
‘Of course we are. We have to eat. Now go,’ he repeated roughly, forcing himself to turn away from her. Because her body was sending out a siren song so loud that it was almost deafening him. And he couldn’t trust himself not to pull her back in his arms and finish off what they had started.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘LEX.’
‘Mmm?’
‘Wake up.’
Lexi stirred and stretched. She didn’t want to wake up. She had been in the middle of a dream—the kind you never wanted to end. A beachy type of dream with warm sand and the sound of the waves swishing against the shore. And there had been a man beside her. A man holding her tightly and kissing her and melting away all the cold sadness which was locked away inside her.
Her eyes fluttered open to find Xenon bending over her, and as his silhouette imprinted itself fuzzily in her line of vision she felt a sinking feeling of resignation. Because he was the man. Of course he was. Even her dreams were dominated by him.
Still a little groggy, she sat up and groped for her glasses and the room shifted into sharp focus as she put them on. She was in the rose room—a sumptuous suite of soft petal shades, with tall windows which overlooked the park. She had never actually slept here before, but it was still filled with memories she’d rather forget. Because she’d made love with her husband on this canopied bed. He’d straddled her over there, on that velvet chair. They’d done it on the carpet, too. In fact, they’d made love in pretty much every room in the house.
And they’d very nearly done it again.
She remembered that brief, erotic encounter on the sofa earlier and she felt the pounding of her heart; the heated rush of blood to her face as she recalled the intimate touch of his hands on her after so long without it. She shouldn’t have let it get that far and she shouldn’t have shown him how much she still wanted him. But how could she fail to want him when he was so damned gorgeous? When, even now, all she could think about was all the pleasure he had given her in the past and the way she used to choke out his name with disbelieving joy. She needed to remember the pain instead. To protect herself with the memory of how much he had hurt her.
She pushed her mussed hair back from her face and sat up, trying not to focus on the powerful thrust of his thighs, which were distractingly close. ‘What time is it?’
‘Seven o’clock. You’ve been asleep for a while.’ He studied her rumpled appearance. ‘Do you want to get changed for dinner?’
Of course she did, even though the fact that he had been the one to suggest it made her want to rebel. He’d grown up in the kind of world where even families changed for dinner and ate formally. The first time she’d met his mother she’d mistakenly thought that, because they were all on a relaxed Greek island, it might be okay for her to wear a denim skirt and a T-shirt to dinner. Big mistake. Her mother-in-law had been decked in silk and pearls, her disapproval freezing the warm Greek air as she had studied the laid-back appearance of her new daughter-in-law.
Lexi glared at him, realising that she was going to be subjected to that level of disapproval all over again. His mother had been frosty enough towards her when they’d been newly-weds. What was her attitude likely to be towards a wife who had left her precious son? ‘I’d like to know what the plan is,’ she said. ‘When are we going to Rhodes?’
‘Eager to get there, are you, Lex?’ His blue eyes mocked her.
‘Not really. But the sooner it’s done, then the sooner I can erase this whole ghastly incident from my mind.’ She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, wondering if her words carried the lack of conviction she felt inside. Walking over to the dressing table, she picked up a hairbrush. ‘I can’t believe I’m back in this damned house,’ she muttered as she stared at her pinched reflection in the mirror.
‘Can’t you?’ Xenon watched as she began to pull a brush through the tumble of her hair and suddenly he realised he had missed this indefinable intimacy of married life. Watching his wife get dressed—an experience almost as erotic as seeing the whole process later completed in reverse.
He’d missed the shared look which could convey the meaning of an entire sentence in a single
glance. He had missed that easy shorthand more than he’d ever imagined. Perhaps that was why his next words came out in a rush, for he had not planned to say them. ‘I thought you might consider giving our marriage another go. Didn’t you ever think you might do that, Lex?’
Lexi’s hand stilled, mid-stroke. It was an unusually candid question and one she was tempted to brush off with a glib response. But something in the brilliance of his reflected blue gaze melted away her intention. She realised that she mustn’t allow pride to skew her judgement. Just because their marriage hadn’t worked out, didn’t mean that she had to devalue it completely, did it? Because once she had loved him. She had loved him so much that she’d walked around with the biggest, stupidest smile on her face. She had felt dizzy with it, as if she’d been struck down by a mystery malady for which there was no known cure.
But it was hard to see things in a balanced way once you started looking at them from a distance. She’d got out of the habit of remembering the good times and that had been intentional. You could never move on if you allowed yourself to wallow in something which you were never going to have again.
‘No, I didn’t think about that,’ she said. ‘Even though I did find life hard without you. For quite a long time, actually. You’re a big enough personality for the world to feel quite empty without you—and it did. But our marriage wasn’t working, Xenon. You know it wasn’t.’
He stared at her and his next words seemed to come from some dark and unknown place deep inside him. ‘Because of the baby.’ There. He’d said it. He’d confronted something which had been too unbearable to confront at the time. Two long years had passed since it had happened and he had thought that time would have blunted the impact—but he was unprepared for the wave of pain which hit him with the force of a tsunami.
Lexi saw him flinch and she felt distress clawing away inside her as the hairbrush slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers and clattered onto the dressing table. That old and familiar feeling of powerlessness swept over her and became all tangled up with her grief. She still felt guilty for the pain she had caused him by her inability to carry a child to term.
The Greek's Marriage Bargain Page 5