Forsaken Bride: Deceived Into Love's Second Chance

Deanna faltered, unsure, and Blaine caught her hesitation. With a polite smile, he asked, "Is there anything else you need, Ms. Evans?"

Color rushed to her cheeks as she snatched up the box and muttered, "No, that's all. I understand what's expected."

Satisfied, Blaine quietly excused himself, shutting the door with a soft click.

Left alone, Deanna stared down at the condoms in her hand, her teeth pressing into her lower lip.

Gaining acceptance in the Gordon family was shaping up to be far more complicated than she'd imagined. Gerard wasted no time in putting her to the test. Refusing wasn't even an option—without the Gordon family behind her, Richard would swallow her whole.

Deanna knew perfectly well that the marriage arrangement was all about producing an heir. At some point, she'd have to fulfill that expectation. Still...

Her eyes traveled to the man on the bed, breath catching at the thought of what was being asked of her, especially when they hadn't even exchanged a word.

Tension in the room wasn't hers alone. Had she pulled back the covers, she might have noticed the faint rigidity in the man's muscles.

Inside, Connor was reeling. When had he agreed to a fiancee? Gerard had tried to sneak women into his room before, but he'd always managed to send them packing—sometimes with threats, sometimes just with a steely look. Eventually, those attempts had stopped. So where had this new woman come from? And why had no one told him a thing?

Annoyance flickered through him, but all he could do was lie perfectly still. No matter what, he couldn't risk revealing he was awake.

Yes, Connor had been pretending all along—his coma was nothing but an act.

Watching Deanna hesitate, a sense of relief washed over him. From the softness in her voice, she didn't seem the type to do anything bold. He'd be safe for now—or so he thought.

Then, a delicate scent drifted to his nose, and the next thing he felt was the blanket slipping away. Warm, slender fingers slid beneath his shirt, gently tracing circles across his chest.

Every muscle in Connor's body tightened in surprise. He forced himself to stay completely still, steadying his breath so she wouldn't notice anything amiss.

Her hand lingered on his skin, pausing over his chest and running down to his abs, her touch exploring with increasing curiosity. Connor's physique, hardened from years of discipline, felt nothing like what she expected from a patient supposedly stuck in bed for so long.

The observation flashed through Deanna's mind, but she forced herself to focus. She had a task—gathering a sample was her only way to secure her place in this family. Any doubts or confusion could wait.

Deanna fumbled with the stubborn clasp of Connor's belt, leaning in so close that her breath stirred the air against his skin, making his throat move with uneasy anticipation.

Connor, who had never once allowed a woman this kind of access, was utterly unprepared for the jolt of sensation her touch brought. The moment she brushed against him, his composure nearly shattered, and his body responded in a way he couldn't hide.

A wave of heat rushed to Deanna's cheeks as her eyes fell on the evidence of his arousal beneath the fabric.

Her own experience was woefully lacking—three years of marriage meant little when Jayden had barely been home, leaving her unversed in even the basics of intimacy. Now, faced with her first real encounter, she found herself flustered and hesitant, nerves threatening to get the best of her.

As Deanna reached for his belt, she paused abruptly, picking up a strange, sweet scent clinging to Connor's skin. The aroma was dangerously alluring, like velvet petals hiding a hidden threat—so familiar it sent a chill through her. MistCore.

She'd encountered it before in her medical work, and only a blood test could confirm her suspicion.

Still, she reminded herself not to get caught up in the Gordon family's secrets. Frankly, if Connor didn't make it, her own path might actually become easier.

Forcing those thoughts away, Deanna focused on her task and finally undid his trousers.

Immediately, his body responded, leaving little to the imagination.

A small wave of relief swept over Deanna—she wouldn't have to do more than collect the needed sample. She doubted she had the nerve for anything beyond this.

Summoning her courage, she wrapped her hand gently around him.

The effect on Connor was instant. A riot of sensation erupted inside him, nearly dragging a sound from his lips.

Try as he might to keep steady, his breathing grew ragged, betraying the storm inside.

But as Deanna stopped in the middle of her task, Connor's anxiety flared. Had she sensed something was wrong? Was his secret at risk?