I followed his instructions, found the page, and passed him back the book. “Here,” I said.
Cayden smiled. “You keep it. I don’t really need the book.”
I pouted. Placed the book on the night stand by the bed. “I thought you were going to read to me.”
He brushed his fingertip over my pouting lip and recited with perfect recall from his memory as well as perfect tone and inflection in his silk ridden voice. “She walks in beauty, like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes….”
Cayden spent quite a long time reciting some of his favorite poems to me, all from memory and all perfectly recited. He looked into my eyes. “Do you want me to read you a book now?”
While I was more than tempted to say yes and spend my time in his arms while he read to me, I needed to ask him a question.
“Cayden, can I ask you question?”
“You can always ask me anything you want,” he said softly.
I held out my left hand and placed it on his hand. He smiled. “When did you have time to buy this ring?”
His face became serious, light worry lines crossed over his brow before he smoothed out his forehead. “My answer may upset you.”
“Why would it upset me?”
“Well….” He seemed to teeter a moment, considering whether to tell me or not then he intertwined his fingers tightly with mine. “Do you remember the first time we met?”
I chuckled. “Of course, how could I ever forget it? You know it has not been that long ago.”
Cayden leaned over and kissed the top of my head. “Well that night when you were not actually with me, you had blacked out, I kind of freaked out. When I found out who you were, heard your name, I was so worried about you I thought I might lose my mind. All I could think about was how long I had waited for you. The thought something was really wrong when you took so long to wake up plagued me. Actually, when it took you such a long time to wake up I began to panic. Then you opened up your eyes, your beautiful emerald green eyes and looked at me.”
Cayden smiled as though he were saved as he spoke. I reached out and touched his face, running my fingertip along his jawline. He needed to shave. Cayden grinned and cupped my cheek.
“I knew in that exact moment you were indeed my Winter,” he continued. “Then you touched my face. I could not believe you were touching me. It was in that moment, I decided I had always been right about you. I actually was not crazy. I knew you were not a ghost you were real, you were mine, and I was going to marry you.”
“You decided such a thing at that moment?”
He smiled his angel’s smile. “Yes. I knew with total assurance you were mine, but I did worry you may not feel the same about me.”
“You know I could not believe you were real. I’m still not sure.” I giggled.
Cayden laughed. “I’m real.” And he kissed me gently.
“You need to know I did feel the same. When you took me to my suite, touched my cheek, I knew then I wanted you. Cayden, I needed you. I loved you, but it was hard to accept you would want me, need me, love me. Our connection was hard to accept, hard to understand but I am yours, completely, you know that, right?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I love you, Winter.”
“And I love you, but you didn’t answer my question. When did you buy the ring?”
“I’ve had your ring for a while,” he confessed.
I felt my face frown at his answer.
“I’m confused,” I admitted.
“I bought your ring after I made my first film five years ago.”
“Um…,” I stuttered.
Cayden pressed his lips to my warm cheek before he brushed his fingertip over my creased brow. My brow smoothed with his touch. “Winter, I told you I have always needed to know you, to find you.” He paused, looking at me as though I would think he was crazy.
“Yes. I know.”
“After I read your book I found a piece of you. I have always loved you. All I needed was to find the rest of you and here you are,” he said, squeezing my fingers tighter with his. “I bought the ring, going with the hope and the assumption I was not crazy. You were real, and I was going to find you somehow. I told myself when I did find you I would not waste one more minute, I would marry you.” He gazed at me for a long moment. He said nothing. He stared at me. I knew he wanted to say something, and he was pondering whether to say it or not. “I need to confess something.”
“What is it?”
“I was looking for you. I knew you lived in Colorado, and I would have found you,” he promised.
“What if I had not been alone, married?” As if this would have ever been a possibility. “Or what if after seeing me, I wasn’t what you expected?”
Cayden smiled as though I were silly. He cupped my cheek into the palm of his hand, again. “Baby.” He sighed. “You are so much more than I expected. You far surpass the dreams.”
“But….”
“Winter, you were the missing piece of my heart so there was no way after seeing you I would have been disappointed. You make me whole.”
I smiled. Cayden shot me his guilty crooked smile.
“What? Why are you smiling like that?” I asked.
“I knew you were not married. Zander told me, but even if you had been, it would not have mattered. You were and are mine.” He kissed my lips tenderly then said quite confidently, “Even if you were married, it would not have stopped me.”
My tears began to flow. Cayden took his thumbs and wiped them away.
“Thank you,” I said.
Cayden looked at me with one raised eyebrow. “For what?”
“For loving me,” I replied. “You are the sun shining bright in my world, Cayden.”
He pulled me tightly into his arms. He held me there for a long quiet moment before he pressed his lips to my forehead and kissed me. “You feel hot again,” he commented. He placed his hand to my forehead then to the side of my neck. “Maybe you need some more Tylenol?”
I felt my stomach twist. I had to put my hand to my mouth. “Sorry,” I said. I threw back the covers and ran for the bathroom. My stomach was staging a full-scale revolt.
I heard Cayden at the bathroom door sounding worried. “Winter?”
“I’ll be fine, just sick. Please, do not come in here. I don’t want you to see this,” I begged.
After a long bout of the dry heaves, I laid my cheek along with my body across the tiled floor in front of the toilet. The coolness of the tiles felt soothing to my scorching skin. I must have dozed off, because I sensed Cayden pick me up off the floor, carry me, then tuck me in back beneath the sheets yet it was a vague awareness.
I had the strangest dreams. I thought I was in a meeting with a group of people. It seemed the voices that broke in were people I knew. I teetered on the verge of waking but the flu-like fog in my head, and the fever kept me from completely waking up. It reminded me of another dream-like conversation when I first met Cayden, thinking he was a hallucination or an angel.
Chandler’s voice said, “You need to call in, it’s almost time.”
“I will,” said Cayden, “but I am worried about Winter. She has the flu or something. I know it’s because of standing out in the rain.”
“What are you talking about, Cayden?”
“You should not have told her about Cheryl Lynn. It has really worried her. The other day when I came back to the estate, I found her out on the balcony with no shoes on, standing in the freezing cold rain. She was soaking wet. She was upset about what you told her, worried for me.”
“I thought she should know,” Chandler replied.
“Yeah well, she is not as tough as you think,” Cayden said, irritation playing through his voice.
“I know Winter is a tiny little thing, but I think she is pretty tough, Cayden. Maybe you are underestimating her just a bit.”
“Do you think I should call a doctor for
her?” Cayden asked.
“Well, let’s see how she does today. If she is still this sick tomorrow, then yes. However, the flu usually needs time to run its course.”
I heard Cayden’s beautiful silk voice talking, but I didn’t hear anyone else. At first, I wondered if he was running through some lines, practicing, then there were long pauses on his part before continuing. He started speaking in French. It was completely beautiful, fluid, flawless French. I did not know he was fluent in French, so at first I thought it was a dream until I opened my eyes. I figured I would find him in the bed, but he wasn’t in bed. I glanced around to find him on his cell phone, pacing across the large windowed expanse of his bedroom and yes, communicating in French. He paced and combed his fingers through his hair.
Cayden turned around as though he knew I had wakened, yet he never broke his flawless dialect as he spoke. He winked at me. He seemed to relax.
“Oui je suisactuellement en tournage à New York,” he said like sweet sugar candy that melts in your mouth.
While I did not know everything he said, I figured out he was doing his interview. He must have made arrangements to complete it over the phone. This was a good thing, because it wouldn’t put him behind in his schedule. I smiled; he would be able to resume his filming schedule on time.
Cayden walked over to my side of the bed, his phone at his ear, still speaking and reached out with his left hand to place it on my cheek. He moved his hand to my forehead before allowing his hand to rest at my shoulder for a moment. He picked up the bottle of Tylenol and handed it to me.
He placed his left hand over his phone and mouthed to me, “Take two more.” He returned to his phone conversation. “Une histoire d’amour.”
While I was weak, fevered, and sick, I felt strangely turned on. Whether it was the fact Cayden was speaking in another language, the confidence of him or the way he multitasked and took care of me without missing a beat, I’m unsure. But even with my head fogged and my body fevered, I became sexually aroused. Flames lapped at my skin. My nipples tingled, peaked, and pressed hard against my cotton shirt. I burned.
Cayden was looking at me, looking at him. My eyes were scorching with desire. He smiled at me. It was his guilty crooked grin then his gaze fell to my obviously rock hard nipples, which were unabashed and pressing through my shirt.
I mouthed, “You are so hot.”
He raised one eyebrow, cell phone to his right ear but continued to speak in French while he glided his left hand down the length of my arm. I started to get out of bed. He stopped me by placing his hand to my shoulder. He pressed me back down into the bed then he shook his head at me. The fact he told me no only made me want him more.
I reached out toward him. “Cayden, let me touch you.”
Cayden smiled. His free hand lifted in question. I read his lips as he said, “What?”
“Let me.”
He walked over, closer to the bed. He was standing directly in front of me, still talking on the phone. There was a pause in his conversation. He held his hand over the phone whispering, “Winter, you are sick. You need to rest.” Then he pulled his hand away and spoke into his cell phone.
I brushed my hands down the front of his T-shirt and hated his shirt, because I wanted to brush my hands down his naked skin. “Let me touch you,” I mouthed as I continued my quest for his flesh. I lifted his shirt and traced the tips of my warm fingers over the waistband of his pajama bottoms. Cayden looked surprised, his eyes widened, but he did not step back from me. “You are really turning me on, babe.”
Cayden grinned and said something in French. I decided he was going to let me. He hadn’t moved from my roaming hands. I skimmed both of them over the surface of his perfect butt and squeezed tightly. Fabulous. I was being a naughty girl, but I liked it.
Cayden bit at his bottom lip while listening to the person on the phone. I pulled him forward. He complied. My right hand outlined the waistband of his pajama bottoms before I slipped my hand inside of them. I licked my lips and found exactly what I wanted. With pleasure, I curled my fingers around his already hard cock. His eyes flashed as I caressed him. The feeling of him while I pumped my hand up his stiff shaft was exciting, pleasurable, and extraordinary. I watched the expressions on his face while I stroked him. He was looking at me with a heat, a fire, yet he was completing his interview in French. It was terribly exhilarating not to mention terribly naughty, but I continued.
Cayden closed his eyes when my hand became much more eager. I was, without a doubt, enjoying the feeling of his silky hard length. With my left hand, I slid his pajama bottoms down his thighs. I studied his cock. Lovely, long, and thick. I swiped my tongue lightly over the line of him and looked up into Cayden’s face. I observed the corners of his mouth turn up into a slight smile. He bit at his bottom lip once more. I pulled up his shirt and placed my fevered lips to his stomach. He took his free hand and moved my hair from my face as I traced my tongue around his navel, followed the ripples of his perfect abs, and nibbled. I kissed, caressed, and finally decided to go for it. My mouth wanted him. Besides, Cayden wasn’t stopping me.
I slipped the pajama bottoms farther down over his thighs. I kissed his right thigh and licked up that amazing muscle. His rock hard cock bobbed freely. I grabbed the base of his shaft, guided him to my lips, glanced up into his scorching blue eyes, and took him into my mouth. Cayden’s free hand brushed my cheek as I sucked him.
Cayden’s interview was coming to an end. He finished his conversation, flipped his cell phone shut, and said rather breathlessly, “Baby, do you know what you are doing to me?”
I removed my mouth slowly from him in one long suck. “Yes,” I admitted, “I think I do.” Then I continued my quest until I made him weak.
“That is so very….” He dropped his cell phone to the bed. It bounced. He fully wrapped his hands in my hair. He made a low sexy sound that vibrated through me. “My God, baby, that is….” Cayden groaned in pleasure followed by, “Awe, fuck yeah.” I sucked him harder. Took him deeper. “Winter, baby.” His finger glided across my cheek. I gazed up at him. He gazed down into my face, clinched his jaw, and closed his eyes. “Baby, I’m going to….”
Chapter Nine
I Really Hate the Press
We all flew back to New York on Sunday. Cayden would continue with his filming schedule in the city while Chandler and I returned to the estate house. I’d been sick for almost the entire time we were in California with the exception of the first day of our arrival there. I felt better, the fever gone, but in truth, still not feeling completely myself. Cayden went ballistic; worried I wasn’t one hundred percent when he called me from the set on Monday. He insisted I see a doctor. I assured him everything was fine and only told him a dozen times not to worry.
Wednesday morning arrived. Carried in by a gloomy sky, and greeted my short, cold, balcony visit with a chilling gust of wind that shot through me. One more day of down time before Cayden would be back. I needed to find something to occupy my time. I seriously thought about calling Doctor Carlyle, to speak with him about Cayden, and the affair he had years ago with Cayden’s mother. But was that really my place? Ever since Chandler told me about the crash, and the secret he held on to in regard to Cayden’s real father, I wondered if keeping things quiet was truly the right thing to do. If Doctor Carlyle was Cayden’s father, didn’t both he and Cayden need to know the truth? While I promised Chandler I would keep this secret, it weighed on me. Perhaps I could come up with a way to broach the subject? I suppose I needed to put more thought into the matter. After all, it’s not an easy topic of conversation.
I wandered downstairs into the media room, not real sure what to do with myself. I decided to watch something on TV. I located the remote to the television and hit the red power button. The channel was Reelz. I paused for a moment. I watched the host discuss Cayden’s recent interview and heard his smooth voice in the background, speaking French. That started the hot sensation in my cheeks with the memory of how m
uch watching Cayden complete that particular interview turned me on.
Reelz provided translation; however, I was surprised to hear him talk about the possibility of hanging things up after he met his current contract obligations, saying it has been something he has been thinking about for quite some time, and further stating it was getting harder and harder to find quality scripts. Cayden indicated he would not film something just to film. He appreciated the quality of his work not the quantity.
This revelation became the latest in the line of press sieges, and from what I saw on the TV, it caused quite the stir. Then as I should have known, there were pictures flashing across the screen of Chandler and myself both arriving and leaving LAX, with Cayden walking behind us. The press outdid themselves, again. They focused on a picture of my left hand that highlighted the ring on my finger. Speculating, Chandler proposed to me. The host was sure to point out since I wasn’t wearing a ring upon our arrival to California but wearing a ring upon our departure, I must have accepted Chandler’s proposal. The predictions of a June wedding went forth.
But the press wasn’t quite done, oh no. They showed pictures of Cayden watching me as we exited the limo, his brilliant blue-eyed gaze placed firmly upon my rear end, smile stretched wide across his face. Then there was a picture of me as I glanced over my shoulder at Cayden while we made our way through the airport and a photo using some sort of long-range lens. If that wasn’t bad enough, the next series of poignant shots skipped across the screen in progression. Chandler entered the plane, myself followed, and Cayden, who was behind me, had been caught with his hand on my shoulder before the subsequent photo showed his hand on the small of my back, resting it there as we entered the jet for New York. It was a full on photographic montage of the recluse romance writer, and what the press called, “her men.”
As I watched, the story made a metamorphosis. The host was joined by three other attractive female commentators. They began a panel discussion. The main topic of discussion was could it be possible Cayden and I were having a secret affair with each other? Then they wondered how long it would be before Chandler found out, stating he would probably be the last to know.
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