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Authors: London Saint James

BOOK: Eternal
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“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 much 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.

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