Her Fantasy Husband (Things to Do Before You Die) (5 page)

Not of the war, but maybe of this one small skirmish.

Because he had to kiss her again.

That was all—just to taste her, feel her. The need was overwhelming, clawing at him. Afterward, they’d go back, and tomorrow he would tell her he’d set the paperwork in motion for the annulment. Because she was trouble.

All that flashed through his mind in the seconds it took for her to wrap her hands around his shoulders and raise her head. For a moment, he stared down into her huge eyes as they blinked up at him, filled with longing. For him.

Never underestimate how much of a turn-on it is to be wanted.

And he gave in, lowered his head, and took her lips with his.

There was nothing tentative about her kiss. Her lips parted for him, and he pushed his tongue inside as his hands slid down her back and gripped her ass, hauling her even closer and lifting her so her feet left the ground. He backed her up until she hit the trunk of the oak tree, then he kissed her some more.

Hot, wet kisses, with an edge of desperation, their tongues stroking, caressing. His dick was rock hard now, and his balls ached viciously. How had it gotten so hot, so fast? She wasn’t his type, but with her breasts squashed against his chest and her stomach pressed against his cock, his body didn’t agree.

A little longer. Then he’d walk away.

His hands slid down her thighs and under the skirt, then up again, pausing as his palms hit bare flesh at the top of her stockings, and his breath hitched in his throat. He went still for a moment.

I am so fucked.

As he stopped kissing her, her small teeth bit into his lower lip in protest. He tried to push himself away. Really he did, but instead, his hands continued their course, back to her ass, cupping her through the silky material of her panties. Then he lifted her up.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered against her lips, waiting for her to come to her senses and push him away. Instead her legs clasped his hips, pressing her sex into him, rubbing up against him, and it felt so fucking good. He dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her ass, urging her closer until he thought he might come right there, in his pants, and embarrass himself. Still, he couldn’t stop. She felt too damn good. Her hands were in his hair, holding his mouth to hers, but he needed more.

Just a little more.

Then he’d call a halt.

There was too much material between them. He needed her hot little pussy bare, needed to know if she was as turned on as he was.

He braced his legs, putting most of the weight on his good one, then pulled slightly away, breaking the kiss, and a mewl of protest escaped her. Turning her, he lowered her to the grass, coming down on one knee between her sprawled legs. The dress was still pushed up, the pale skin of her thighs gleamed in the dim light, and he could see the black silk of her panties. His mouth went dry and his cock pulsed, almost painful now.

Her eyes were half-closed, her lips slightly parted, her breasts rising and falling with her shallow breaths.

Last chance to back out, buddy.

He ignored the little voice and studied her for a moment. The dress tied at the waist, and he tugged on the knot at her side, every second waiting for her to object. She stared up at him, blinking, but remained silent, and he reached down slowly and parted the material. Beneath it she wore a black silk and lace bra and matching panties. Her breasts were full and her waist narrow above the curve of her hips, her skin flawless and creamy. He trailed a hand down over the swell of one breast, her breath catching as he scraped over the prominent nipple.

He rubbed it and her hips pushed upward. Then he lowered himself over her, bit down on the taut peak through the lace of her bra, and sucked hard.

She let out a gasp and he glanced up.

Her eyes were wide, startled. But he guessed she wasn’t going to do the sensible thing. Still, something made him give her one last chance. Because
he’d
passed sensible way back. Probably the moment their lips touched.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and held his breath because if she said no, he didn’t think he’d survive the disappointment.

He’d yearned for this feeling since he’d made that vow to get laid. Now it was here, the heat boiling inside him with her every touch. Hell, every time she looked at him.

She held his gaze then reached out a hand and trailed her fingers down over the bulge in his pants.
Hell, yeah.
He’d take that as a yes. Fire shot through him, sizzling along his nerves, heating his blood. His eyes closed for a second, he gritted his teeth then placed his hand over hers and tugged it away.

“Not a good idea, honey.” He was going to last all of about five seconds once he got inside her, which meant he had to make sure she came first. “Relax,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you.”

He trailed a finger down her flat stomach, then over the silk covering her mound, and between her thighs. He traced the seam of her sex through the silk and she shifted restlessly. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth, and he studied her expression as his finger slid beneath the silk and pushed slowly inside.

Shit, she was so wet.

The knowledge that she was as aroused as he was, sent a shaft of heat down his cock, along his spine. He pressed his finger up inside her and her eyes drifted closed, her hips rising from the grass. He slipped his finger over her sex, found the swollen little nub of her clit, and stroked her gently. Her eyes flew open.

“You like?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again and gave a nod.

After hooking a finger in the lace, he slowly slid the panties down over her legs, past the high heels, and she was bare for him to see. The curls between her thighs were dark in the low light. He lowered his head and blew lightly on them. Her thighs clamped closed, and he chuckled.

From her responses, he was guessing she wasn’t very experienced. And he loved that. Loved being the one to show her pleasure. He would have liked to spend more time exploring her body—he was unlikely to get another chance—but things were getting desperate, and he needed inside her soon, before he exploded.

Not going to happen.

His first time in over five years was not going to be an epic failure. He needed her to come and come hard. Preferably screaming his name.

He stroked his palm down one leg then pushed his hand between them, parted her thighs and lowered himself to lie between them. His face was close to her sex, and breathing in, his nostrils filled with the scent of hot, aroused woman. God, he’d missed this. How the hell had he gone so long?

He used one hand to part her, then slowly pushed his tongue inside, tasting the salty sweetness. His impossibly hard dick got even harder until it pressed painfully against his fly. She’d gone totally still, but she was making no effort to close her legs, so he presumed she wasn’t entirely against the idea.

Good.

He licked over her sex, his tongue circling the swollen bud, and still she didn’t move. Then he stroked over her clit and her back arched, a little squeak escaping her. He stroked again, gently, and she pushed against his mouth to deepen the contact. He held her still and circled the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue, teasing. Her body writhed against his hold; he would swear she was close, and she was panting as though she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs.

Finally, when she was shuddering against his mouth, he sucked her clit, softly at first, then harder, at the same time he shoved two fingers inside her—

And she exploded around him.

Thank Christ.

He gave her one last lick, before coming up on his knees. She lay sprawled in front of him, her face flushed, eyes half closed, legs parted.

Reaching down, he flicked open the button on his pants, then lowered the zipper, and his cock sprang free.

The relief was huge. But not huge enough.

He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and found the condom Logan had tucked in there at the same time as he’d left the box in the car.

Thank you, Logan.

He ripped the foil packet and rolled the condom down over his shaft. He silenced the little niggle that said no way should he be doing this. He wasn’t sure he could stop now.

He glanced at her face. She was gazing up at him as if he was everything she had ever wanted.

Well, she could have him, and he lowered himself over her.

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.