Chapter 5

Cristian kept his arm wrapped tight around Cassidy's shoulders as he guided her back into the master bedroom.

He pressed his hand against her lower back, forcing her to sit on the edge of the mattress. He turned and walked into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a dry, white towel.

He dropped to one knee on the floor in front of her. He lifted her right foot and began to gently wipe the dirt and dust from her sole with the towel.

Cassidy gasped. She tried to pull her foot back, her toes curling in shock. Heat rushed up her neck and burned her cheeks. "Cristian, I can wash them myself."

He ignored her protest. His grip on her ankle was firm and unyielding. He meticulously cleaned both feet before standing up and tossing the towel toward the laundry hamper.

He sat down next to her. The mattress dipped under his heavy frame, sliding her slightly closer to him.

Cristian turned his head. His dark eyes locked onto hers, intense and entirely focused. "Besides Hayden, do you have any other questions?"

Cassidy's heart skipped a beat. Her stomach fluttered. She knew this was the opening she needed.

She looked down at her hands. Her thumbnail dug into the side of her index finger, a nervous habit she could not break. A violent war raged in her head.

If she stayed a contract wife, she could be replaced tomorrow. If they had a child, the bond would be permanent.

Cassidy sucked in a deep breath of air. She forced her hands to stop fidgeting. She lifted her chin and looked straight into his dark eyes.

She gathered every ounce of courage she possessed. Her voice shook, but the words were clear. "Cristian, I want to have a baby."

The air in the bedroom vanished. The silence was so absolute she could hear the hum of the air conditioning unit.

Cristian froze. The fingers resting on his thigh twitched and curled into a loose fist. A flash of pure shock crossed his face.

He clearly had not expected his quiet, compliant wife to drop a bomb like this.

Cassidy watched his silence. The light in her eyes died. Panic seized her throat. She started to backtrack instantly.

"I mean, it was just a thought," she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush. "If you think it is not the right time, we can forget I said anything."

She tried to stand up, desperate to escape the suffocating tension.

Cristian's large hand shot out. His fingers clamped around her wrist like a vice.

He yanked her backward. Cassidy lost her balance and crashed hard against his solid chest.

Cristian twisted his body, pinning her flat against the soft mattress. He hovered over her, his broad shoulders blocking out the light. His eyes were dark, swirling with a dangerous, predatory heat.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "If we have a child, you are permanently tied to the George family. There is no walking away."

Cassidy stared up at his handsome face. She did not hesitate. She nodded her head. It was exactly what she wanted.

Cristian's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. The shock in his eyes melted away, replaced by a deep, terrifyingly intense satisfaction.

He lowered his head until his lips brushed against her ear. "Alright. As you wish, Mrs. George."

The sound of her title on his lips sent a violent shiver down her spine.

Cristian's mouth crashed down on hers. It was a punishing, bruising kiss, demanding everything she had. He was punishing her for trying to run away a second ago.

Cassidy closed her eyes. She reached up, her hands gripping his wide shoulders, kissing him back with equal desperation.

He tore the buttons of her pajama top open. The fabric gave way, and the cool air hit her skin before his burning hands replaced it.

This was not their usual routine. This was raw, desperate, and completely consuming.

Hours later, the sky outside began to lighten. Cassidy lay exhausted, her head resting on Cristian's arm. She fell asleep with a small, secure smile on her lips.

Cristian lay awake in the dark. He stared at her sleeping face. His fingers gently traced the curve of her cheek. His eyes were dark and unreadable, swirling with a heavy, unspoken possessiveness that he himself had not fully realized yet.