He Ditched His Bride for Her Pregnant Sister

Adalee Morgan's tender expression shattered in a split second—kiss?! Cruz Nichols caught the shift from adoration to shock in her eyes, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Before she could bolt, he cradled her face in his hands, his jaw-droppingly handsome features closing in on hers.

Adalee's eyes went huge, her heart hammering as his cool, sculpted lips met her soft, cherry-red ones. The second their lips touched, a bolt of electricity shot through her. Her toes curled, her body locked up, and her hands dangled helplessly at her sides. Cruz caught the flush on her cheeks and her total lack of experience, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he deepened the kiss.

The kiss stretched on, feeling like more than a minute. When he finally pulled back, Adalee's eyes were glazed. Cruz swept her away, leaving a room of confused guests and a heartbroken Miranda Jenkins in his wake.

Cruz carried Adalee into the hotel's bridal suite and set her down gently on the festive crimson bed. The second she hit the sheets, she snatched a blanket and rolled herself up like a burrito, still too flustered to meet his eyes after that kiss.

Cruz found it amusing. How could she get this flustered? Despite the rumors about her supposed wild side, this shy little act suggested she was anything but experienced. Her reaction to that kiss had been way too real to fake. She was soft and tempting, just like he remembered—a mouthwatering little treat.

Biting her lip, Adalee blinked those bright, spellbinding eyes, completely unaware of her own appeal. "Um, Mr. Nichols, can I ask you something?"

Cruz's voice dropped. "Call me ‘husband.'"

Adalee blushed harder. Newlyweds didn't do formal titles, right? After a beat of hesitation, she whispered, "Uh, hubby."

The soft, sweet sound of it did something weird to his heart. Cruz's gaze darkened, and he gave a small nod. "Mm. What's your question?"

His tone was easy, almost playful—obviously in a good mood. Relaxing a fraction, Adalee smiled and asked, "So, you agreed to marry me because you felt obligated? Not because of any feelings?"

Cruz paused. "...Yes."

That had been his original reasoning. He had no romantic ties, so marrying one person or another made no difference. His family was powerful enough that he didn't need a strategic alliance. If not for that one night of drinking and drugs, he never would have ended up with her—or made that promise. Besides, that night—his first—had left a lasting impression...

Adalee's eyes lit up at his answer. "So you don't have feelings for me. Does that mean we can keep things casual?"

Cruz's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Adalee explained brightly, "I mean we can be married on paper. We just put on a show in public, but we don't have to do any of the stuff real couples do!"

Cruz's handsome face inexplicably darkened several shades. "Such as?" he growled.

Such as? Adalee's ears suddenly burned. Her tongue fumbled. "Like holding hands, kissing, sharing a bed..."

Cruz locked his dark eyes on her. "I'm a normal man," he said, low and husky.

Adalee caught the implication instantly. She squeezed her thighs together without thinking and gave an awkward smile. "I—I get it. Everyone has needs, and you're young and healthy. Totally normal. I don't mind if you go see other women, really!"

Cruz's face went completely black. His brand-new wife was pushing him away on their wedding night—telling him to go find other women? He needed to know what was going on in that head of hers. Especially since she'd been nothing like this during the ceremony.

"Wildflowers aren't as sweet as the ones in your own garden," he murmured, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Then he bent down, bracing his hands on either side of her, his solid frame towering over her small body, his clean scent wrapping around her.

Staring up at him—a predator hiding behind a clean, suffocating facade—Adalee's face flamed again. She tried to scoot backward, but Cruz yanked her right back. Her hands landed on his hard chest. Little did she know, she was digging her own grave.

Cruz's body tensed instantly, his gaze dropping to her tempting lips. The memory of that kiss made his Adam's apple bob. Sensing where this was going, Adalee slapped a hand over her own mouth and shot him a defensive glare. "Mr. Nichols, no! I'm pregnant. It might upset the baby!"

Cruz froze, his lips twitching. The baby was only three months along—barely formed. What could possibly upset it? Did she really think he didn't know basic biology? Adalee knew how weak that sounded, but she had no choice but to double down. "Ahem... well, even at three months, the baby could still feel... discomfort..."

Cruz said nothing. Adalee's clear eyes went pleading. "Mr. Nichols, I'm pregnant… maybe we should wait."

Cruz's expression blackened. He glared at her for a solid three seconds, then shoved off the bed and stalked into the bathroom.

Letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, Adalee patted her tiny belly. "Baby, you're mommy's little lucky charm—sent the big bad wolf running!"

But this was only delaying the inevitable. She needed to have a real talk with Cruz. She didn't love him, and forcing a relationship would only make both of them miserable. Hopefully he'd understand. If nothing else, she still had the baby as a shield.

In the bathroom, Cruz hadn't truly planned to consummate anything with his pregnant wife. All he'd wanted was a little payback—her suggestion that he go find other women had lit a fire under his temper. But instead of getting the reaction he wanted, she'd just left him even more wound up. Thinking about his soft, endearing wife, Cruz's expression sobered. After a moment of consideration, he pulled out his phone to text a doctor friend.

He typed bluntly: *If a woman is three months pregnant, will having sex cause the baby any discomfort or developmental issues?*

He stared at the screen for a few seconds, then set the phone on the counter, turned the shower to cold, and stepped under the spray.