The Price of Passion

by Stephanie Morris

  He snapped his fingers. “Ah, hell. I knew I forgot something.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Yes. But I like the way you blush.”

  Gathering the balloons, she tied the strings together and held them in front of her, then attempted to keep the color arrangement away from the rearview mirror. They didn’t make it to the edge of town before flashing lights appeared behind them.

  Kaden pulled over and rolled down the window, only to have two wayward balloons escape Sierra’s attempt to catch them. They flew out and one floated up into the sky while the other caught on Sheriff Wilfred Fay’s badge.

  A loud pop sounded in the air, then the green remains fell to the ground.

  “Sorry about that, Sheriff,” Kaden said.

  Sierra giggled. Kaden turned to her, struggling to contain his own laughter, warming her insides. It was a moment she’d never shared with another man. Like it or not, she was making memories with him. And very gradually, they replaced the ones Tim had left behind.

  Tim wouldn’t have found any humor in this situation and would have been pissed off at being pulled over. More and more, she saw how dissimilar the men were.

  “Please don’t tell me you won’t be coming to the boys’ game night anymore,” Wilfred said, pulling out his citation book.

  “Not unless Sierra gets tired of me being home.”

  “Sorry, Fred. You’ll have to find someone else.”

  “First Andy, now you.” Wilfred shook his head. “Is there something in the water in this town? I guess as long as we’ve still got Colby, there’s still hope.”

  “I think you’re pretty safe there,” Kaden retorted

  “Just wanted to congratulate you both. Oh, and keep those balloons out of the way of the mirrors. Wouldn’t want you driving while preoccupied.”

  “Yes, sir, Sheriff Fay.”

  Wilfred tipped his hat, pocketed his citation book, then headed back to his cruiser.

  “Where to now?” Sierra inquired, biting back a laugh.

  “Just settle in. We have a little drive ahead of us.”

  Three hours later, they arrived at the resort.

  “This is wonderful.” Sierra said to Kaden.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “The smell of the pine trees makes me think of Christmas,” she murmured, even though the holiday was months away.

  “We’ll have a baby to spoil on Christmas morning,” he replied.

  “I know. I can’t wait.”

  She gasped with surprise when he swept her up into his arms, the skirt of her dress hanging over his arm.

  Their host, Yalena, rushed in front of them to open the door to their cabin and wish them all the best, then disappeared so he could carry his bride over the threshold in private.

  He paused there, giving Sierra a kiss and a look that made her feel like the most special woman on earth. With her heart racing, she closed the door behind them. A can of whipped cream sat in a bucket of ice on one of the night stands. “Whipped cream?”

  “Number thirty-five,” he murmured.

  Her eyes widened. “Number thirty-five?”

  “From the magazine article. I thought we’d have a go at it.”

  She recalled number thirty-five. It involved a can of whipped cream, the body, and the man putting the whipped cream on places he wanted to remove it from.

  “Number sixty-nine was pretty intriguing, as well,” he stated.

  She forced her gaze away from the ice bucket.

  “We have our way with each other in a hot tub.”

  “A hot tub?”

  “You like those, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “We have our own private tub, right off the room. The temperature has been set to one that won’t harm you or our baby. Best of all, you won’t need a swimsuit for number sixty-nine. He pulled open the curtain, showing her a private area enclosed by a wooden fence. Steam rose from the water, drifting skyward, and potted flowers bloomed along the walls.

  “Kaden, it’s lovely.”

  “You like it?”

  “Most definitely.” Caught up in the spectacular view rising up off in the distance, she confessed, “Just a little anxious.”

  He rested his hands on her shoulders, and turned her toward him. “We’ll do this at your tempo. If you don’t want to make love tonight, we won’t.”

  “And tomorrow night?”

  “Sierra, we’ll make love when you’re ready to.”

  “But—”

  “Hear me out,” he cut in. “I want to make love to my wife, want you to know you’re my wife in every sense of the word.”

  His gaze lowered. Casually, he skimmed her entire body, from her head to her toes. Without even touching her, she felt that heat in her stomach again, a feeling her ex-husband had never been able to elicit.

  “But I won’t do anything you don’t want. I know you don’t want to lose control, but I’ll do my best to show you that you can share yourself with me without losing yourself like you did with Tim. And I’ll tell you this, Sierra, I won’t make love to you until you ask me to.”

  A warm shiver raced down her spine, then up again. “And if I don’t?”

  “You’re giving and compassionate. You’ll ask, Sierra. You’ll ask.”

  Chapter Eight

  She trembled, knowing he was right.

  “You touched me earlier, on the face. Like this.” He grabbed one of her wrists and moved her hand to his cheek.

  She moved her fingers along his cheek, feeling the subtle, the strength in his jaw.

  “Now feel this.”

  She inhaled sharply, but he only moved her hand beneath his suit jacket to his chest, holding her palm against the rhythm of his heart.

  “Just your touch does that to me.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, Sierra, I’m not. And the sound of your voice...”

  “My voice? I was told that I sound like a miserable old woman.”

  He chuckled. “More like an angel with a voice like no other.”

  “Now you’re joking.”

  “You think so?” He only pressed her hand closer. “Then why am I still responding to you?”

  She was saved from replying by a knock on the door.

  “Room service!”

  “Stay here and continue enjoying the view.”

  He handed the staff member some money, then returned to her with a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket and two crystal flutes.

  “No alcohol for me,” she stated apologetically.

  “It’s non-alcoholic.”

  “Do you think of everything?”

  “I’m doing my best.”

  She was succumbing. No doubt about it. When he wanted to, Kaden could charm. He had that first night until she’d lost all sense of herself. She couldn’t allow that to occur again. With a flicker of awareness, she knew she couldn’t prevent it.

  After he removed his jacket from his shoulders and laid it over the back of a chair, he loosened his tie, allowing the ends to dangle against the white of his shirt. Kaden removed the cufflinks, then rolled up the sleeves, revealing his powerful forearms.

  And the entire time, she couldn’t peel her eyes away. He uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses and offered one to her. He tipped his crystal glass in her direction. “To us—the three of us.”

  She touched the rim of her glass to his, then took a sip. To Sierra, it didn’t matter that there wasn’t any alcohol in the champagne. She still felt anxious and lightheaded, excited inside. At Andy and Hillary’s anniversary party, she blamed the drinks she’d had for her reaction to Kaden. Now she knew better.

  Kaden moved to the bed and sat on it. “Come join me.”

  Her knees knocked.

  He waited, remaining silent.

  Seconds turned into minutes.

  Finally, he stared at her solemnly, eyes clear and honest. “I’ve already told you you’ll have to ask me to make love t
o you.”

  “Ask?”

  “Ask,” he reiterated, in that low, masculine voice that sent hot chills through her.

  “I won’t ever do that.”

  “Never say never.”

  Kaden in this mood might drive her over the edge. Joking and charismatic? She didn’t stand a chance.

  “Why don’t you come join me?” he repeated.

  Her willpower shattered.

  “Bring you drink,” he encouraged when she went to set it on the nightstand.

  She sat down close to him, crossing her ankles in ladylike fashion. But she couldn’t forget the whipped cream. It sat just inside of her peripheral vision, a constant reminder of what he wanted to do.

  “You’re a lovely bride.”

  Looking at him, she laughed. “There you go again with those ludicrous statements.”

  “I don’t make ludicrous statements.”

  Her mind went blank.

  His brows bunched together.

  Kaden was being sincere. Heaven help her, she’d never had a man say she was lovely before.

  He trailed the pad of his thumb down her nose. “Perfection.”

  She tried to smile, but couldn’t get her muscles to cooperate.

  “And your lips…” He continued his examination. “Beautifully shaped.”

  “Thanks to the lovely invention of cosmetics.”

  “I’ve seen you without makeup before, Sierra. Can’t pull the wool over my eyes. I’ve seen every one of your secrets—uncovered them all.”

  “So you know my imperfections, as well?”

  “Yes, like the fact that you haven’t asked me to make love to you yet.”

  Tenseness swarmed her body. “I’ve told you that I’m not going to do that.”

  “Yes, you did. And your throat—”

  “Is very average,” she interrupted, holding the crystal flute even tighter.

  “I have to disagree with you.”

  “I give,” she conceded.

  “Not what I want.”

  Tension surged through her again.

  “Remember how I held your hand over my heart?”

  She nodded, not capable of ever forgetting that moment. With his fingers, he caressed the column of her throat. Her head tilted to the side against her better judgment. Kaden hesitated, his index finger resting on her throbbing pulse.

  “I can tell,” he said gently, leaning forward to gather her hair into his free hand, “if you’re affected by me.”

  She lifted her head and met his gaze.

  “I can tell if you like this.” He brushed a kiss across her jaw. “And this.” He grazed his knuckles across her lips.

  Her mouth fell open. She was failing. His caress on the pounding pulse in her neck warmed her skin, and her eyes fluttered closed.

  “Or maybe this.” He lowered his head and kissed the curve of her throat.

  She jumped and the champagne sloshed.

  Then, with a subtle move, he slid his hand across the front of her dress. Her eyes opened to see that his were veiled. This wasn’t a joke. He was determined and genuine, and her willpower was fading as she slipped into formidable territory.

  “It’s a pleasant throat,” he stated. “Very pleasant. And the tiara in your hair. It’s very nice. Can I take it out?”

  Her mind raced.

  “Is that okay?”

  “Yes.”

  He needed no further approval. With a few quick, succinct moves, the hairpiece was removed. “Much better,” he murmured appreciatively, his fingers threading through her hair as he combed out the layers, leaving the strands curling to frame her face. “Simply exquisite.”

  “I’m not exquisite.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Stuffy, homely—”

  “Now that’s ludicrous,” he interjected.

  He was so close, not even a hair’s breadth away. His scent overwhelmed her, that of wild nights and desire, a mixture that wrecked havoc on her perception.

  Kaden stroked her hair. “Stunning,” he said. “No question about it.”

  In that instant, for the first time in her life, she believe it, believed him. That she had an effect on Kaden, a man majority of the single women in town were infatuated with, astonished her.

  At the present time, he wasn’t making her feel as if this was a marriage he hadn’t wanted, that she was only a responsibility. To stop the craziness spreading through her like wildfire, she reminded herself that if there was no baby, she would have never seen him again. This was a marriage of convenience for him. The price of passion. Nothing more.

  And still, a rebellious part of her insisted he was staring at her as if he wanted her, not some other, nameless woman.

  Her.

  But wasn’t the accessibility of sex one of the main reasons men got married? Kaden made it clear he was no different in that respect. But he’d also said that if they made love, it would be on her terms and she’d name them.

  A thousand, maybe a million, contradictory thoughts raced through her head.

  “I like your dress,” he said.

  “I know I said I didn’t want to wear white, let alone a wedding dress, but when Eve showed me the design, it called to me.”

  “You made a wonderful choice. I recall...”

  She remained quiet.

  “At Andy and Hillary’s anniversary party, you wore a black satin dress, a hot little number with a low-cut back.”

  “We’d just finished making the dress. I’d never worn anything like that before.”

  “It was perfect. And underneath it you had on black panties and not much else.”

  “Kaden!”

  “And that makes me curious about—”

  “What I have on beneath this.”

  “Yes.”

  Who was this courageous man? she pondered. She’d never participated in any type of sexual teasing exchange with a man.

  “So, are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?”

  Her bravery was running out.

  “I’ll guess then,” he stated a moment later. “Hand me your glass.”

  “My glass?”

  “Yes. I don’t want you spilling anything on your beautiful dress.”

  Kaden, keeping her off kilter as usual, moved away, then reached for the pillows and placed them against the headboard.

  “What does this have to do with you guessing?”

  “You’ll find out in just a moment. Now do me a favor and move up here.” He held out his hand.

  A few heartbeats later, she lay back comfortably among the pillows.

  “Let me have your feet.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can take off your shoes.”

  She inhaled sharply as he slipped off the first shoe. His lucky button fell out, and he slid it onto the bedside table.

  “I wanted to keep it with me,” she whispered. “For luck.”

  He grinned, and she was glad she had kept it.

  Kaden tugged off her other shoe and dropped it on the floor next to the first.

  “What is it?” she asked when he stared at her quietly.

  He didn’t respond, but shifted until he was at the end of the bed, her feet in his lap.

  “You’re looking!” she complained.

  “That wouldn’t be fair.” He started rubbing her feet with firm but gentle strokes.

  The bones in her body felt as though that instantly dissolved. “Please don’t start something you can’t finish,” she murmured.

  “It’d be easier if you took off your stockings.”

  “I’m not going to start taking off my clothes for you.”

  “I thought I’d give it a shot. Beige.”

  “Beige?”

  “Underwear. Cotton. Briefs that cover you all the way up to your belly button.”

  She shook her head.

  “Red.”

  “Underneath a white dress?”

  “Good point. Black.”

  She laughed. “Of course not
.”

  “Pink.”

  Sierra arched a dark brow in Kaden’s direction. “Pink, really?”

  “Since you matched at Andy and Hillary’s anniversary party, you probably did the same thing for our wedding. You have to be wearing white, Sierra.” Her brow lowered back down to its normal position. “So tell me about your panties. Satin? Cotton? I’ve heard cotton is the most breathable fabric.”

  She didn’t want to relax. Hadn’t intended to. But she couldn’t resist. “You heard that, did you?”

  “Well, read it, actually, in your magazine.”

  “And what else did you read?” she asked.

  “I saw in next month’s issue they’ll have an article on a hundred and one ways a man can drive a woman wild in bed.”

  She’d bet a foot rub was in the top ten.

  “I think you should subscribe to the magazine.”

  “Kaden, you don’t need any advice or suggestions.”

  He stopped in mid rub. “I don’t?”

  She hadn’t meant to reveal that.

  “What did you like best about that night?”

  Her toes twitched.

  “I’ll do it again, if I just know how you like to be pleasured.”

  She was close to melting into a puddle of desire.

  “Lace,” he continued.

  She frowned, trying to follow him.

  “You’re panties. Are they lace?”

  “Yes.”

  His growled response was low, feral and sensual. She quivered.

  “Tell me about your bra—does it cover your breasts?”

  “It’s strapless but full-coverage.”

  “Meaning?”

  “It sort of gives me a pushed up look, making my...” She wished she had her champagne in her hand. Her level of thirst had intensified.

  “Breasts look fuller?”

  Instantly, her nipples hardened and her breasts felt full, pushing against the fabric of her bra. “Yes.”

  He started rubbing her feet again, but she felt the tension bunch in his thighs, heard it building in his words. “So, is it lacy?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not sure this was a good idea,” he said, his voice raspy, like something dragging over gravel. “Told you there was nothing boring and predictable about you, Sierra. Beneath the surface you reveal a woman wanting to experience life—all of it. You proved that at Andy and Hillary’s party.”

  He was too intuitive. Maybe that was one of the reasons he scared her so much.