Lexi wearing nothing but a thong as she’d walked towards their bed.
Lexi sunbathing topless during their honeymoon.
Lexi connecting with something dark and irresistible deep inside him. Something which had enchanted and infuriated him in equal measure, because she had possessed an indefinable power over him and he had resented that.
The first time he’d seen her, he had wanted to ravish her. He had wanted to blot out the rest of the world, so that it was just her and him. It was as simple and as complicated as that and he could remember the moment as if it were yesterday.
She’d recently broken up from her band to launch herself into a solo career. One of her first gigs had been at a big charity function in Bel Air and Xenon had gone along because he’d been a fan of the charity, not of her. He didn’t like trashy women who flaunted their bodies and from what he’d heard and seen of The Lollipops all three women had done exactly that in order to get to the top.
With his current squeeze clinging to his arm, he had walked into the crowded ballroom with his prejudices intact and had seen a woman with bright red hair standing on the stage. He had watched her writhing around in a sequinned mini-skirt and had grown hard. He couldn’t ever remember feeling quite so turned on as he’d been by Lexi Gibson. It had been exquisite and captivating and so had she. His date forgotten, he had been bewitched by the pale-faced singer.
It had been more difficult than he would have imagined to facilitate a meeting with her. She’d given him the runaround and he got the feeling that she wasn’t playing games. She had refused to return his calls and he had been forced to attend her concerts like some run-of-the-mill fan. He’d sent her enough flowers to open a florist’s until she had sent him a short note, requesting that the flowers stop. Intrigued and entranced, he had agreed to her request, but only if she would agree to meet him for a drink first. One lousy drink, that was all it had been—but he hadn’t been expecting to come away from it still feeling completely smitten. But now it seemed that the feeling had been mutual...
They’d started dating—but it turned out she didn’t trust men. It had taken him three whole months to discover that she was a virgin, by which time his need to possess her had become total and complete.
He felt the sudden beat of heat at his groin because that need had never really gone away, had it? Even in the midst of all their rows, he had still wanted her. He wanted her now.
Shifting a little uncomfortably in his chair, he raised his eyebrows. ‘Your journey here was okay?’ he questioned.
‘As okay as any journey can be when you don’t particularly want to take it. And your female driver is superb.’
‘Isn’t she?’ The hint of a smile touched the edges of his mouth. ‘What about the goldfish you were so concerned about—how are they?’
She eyed him suspiciously. ‘They’re all right. They’ve moved in with one of my neighbours.’
‘And should I know their names? Just in case their welfare becomes a matter of overriding concern?’
‘Are you being sarcastic?’
‘Not at all.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘There is so much of your life that is now a mystery to me, Lex. I think it wise to learn as much as possible about my wife before I take her home to Greece. Their names?’
‘Bubble,’ she said. ‘And Squeak.’
He frowned. ‘That’s a meal you eat in England?’
Lexi nodded. A meal that he would certainly never have tasted, that was for sure. Frankly, she was amazed that he was interested. In the past, he would never have bothered to ask for such an inconsequential detail, and even if he had she probably would have skated over it. She’d known that her background appalled him and so she’d always played it down—even if doing so made her feel slightly guilty, as if she’d been ashamed of where she’d come from. As if she’d been denying who she really was.
But there was no point in doing that now. In fact, it might even work in her favour. Wouldn’t it make this ordeal easier if she reminded him of the fundamental differences between them? It would certainly make it easier for her if he didn’t look at her like that—with an expression of desire in his eyes which was making her feel curiously vulnerable.
Forcing herself to concentrate, she nodded. ‘That’s right. Bubble and Squeak is a traditionally English peasant food,’ she said. ‘It’s made of leftover vegetables—usually cabbage and potatoes—fried up together the next day.’