Sugar Read online

  Sugar

  By Lauren Dane

  A Cake sequel

  An impromptu road trip makes for the honeymoon Gregori and Wren didn’t know they wanted

  Bad-boy artist Gregori Ivanov wants nothing more than to marry Wren Davis. He’s asked her before—more than once—but she insisted on waiting until she’d established her own career. Now that the time is finally right, Gregori has one hell of a celebration in mind. Restaurants, museums and NYC luxury all the way...on top of all the newlywed sex they’ll be having.

  The universe, unfortunately, did not get the message. When their plane is grounded in Idaho, they’re forced to improvise a road trip to get back to Seattle instead of the romantic getaway Gregori painstakingly planned. But that they’re together is what’s important, and with giant roadside potato museums, funky galleries in towns with little more than two stoplights and some seriously great diner food—in between all the great sex—Gregori and Wren find a honeymoon as unique and memorable as their love.

  This book is approximately 30,000 words

  One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise!

  Edited by Angela James

  Dedication

  This one is for all those working on their HEA every single day.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Excerpt from Whiskey Sharp trilogy by Lauren Dane

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Lauren Dane

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Gregori stared at Wren from his place in their bed. Warm and lazy, struck with the reality of such a creature being his, he chose to watch her, his pretty bird, his heart given legs.

  Unaware of his attention, all her focus was on her work. He adored her this way, lost in her art. Her intensity pouring into the act of creation. She curled up in her favorite chair, near the windows so the pale gray winter light backlit her like an angel.

  She wasn’t of course. No, Wren was, as his cousin Alexsei liked to say, hell on wheels. There was fire in her heart and soul. It was sexy and comforting and slightly terrifying.

  Her glasses perched on her nose as she sketched. Every few moments she’d wrinkle up her face, pause and then go back to the strokes of her pen on the paper.

  That sound, the scritch of pen or pencil against paper, had become as natural an occurrence in his daily life as drinking tea and the scent of paint in the air.

  Though she wasn’t looking at him, Gregori knew her eyes were bright blue. Bold, in part due to their color but also the way she seemed to always be examining every detail around her, cataloging. Accepting or rejecting as she went.

  That’s what had caught his attention at the first. Back when she’d worked as a bike messenger to pay her way through art school. Back before he’d imagined being able to feel this way about another person.

  Still looking down, she smiled before finishing up. Her way of telling him she knew he was awake and that she’d be with him shortly.

  She turned to face him, her smile brightening. “Good morning, Grisha.”

  He’d long since stopped pretending he didn’t love it when she used the diminutive of his name. A caress.

  He pulled back the bedding. “Come to me, kotyonok,” he said, using the nickname he’d given her in the early days of their relationship. Kitten. But his kitten had very sharp claws.

  “Well,” she said, looking at his cock. “Seems to me, you’re going to make my morning even better.”

  A startled laugh burst from him as she snuggled against his body, getting close and wrapping her arms around him.

  “My main goal in life is to make your day better,” he told her after a hum of delight at the way she felt.

  He knew it with utter certainty. It was time to ask and far past time for her to say yes.

  She pressed a kiss against the side of his neck. “I’m a very fortunate woman.”

  “And I am a very fortunate man. The luckiest man I know. There’s just one thing. Make me even more fortunate and be my wife.” He pulled the ring box from beneath the pillows and cracked it open.

  He continued, “I know you’ve wanted to wait to accept my proposal until your career hit a certain point. And you’ve achieved that and more. So I think you should say yes at last and put me out of my misery.”

  * * *

  Wren sucked in a breath and moved so she could see his face better. His utterly gorgeous face. Sooty lashes at half mast over hazel eyes. A beautiful mouth, generally set into a sneer of some sort, framed perfectly by his beard. He often looked like a broody, sullen prince, or a fallen angel. Whichever. He was stunning in his own unique way. And all hers.

  True that he was also bossy, imperious, temperamental and cranky, but she rather thought of him as the anemone and she the clownfish. She chose to be charmed by his grump and to push back when he got too bossy.

  No one on the planet had ever meant more to her, or been at her back with the same ferocity as he did. He loved her utterly and completely and she felt it to her toes.

  As he’d said, Gregori had asked her to marry him more than once. And she’d wanted so much to say yes the two times before this. She did not doubt her love for him or their commitment to one another. As far as she was concerned they were together. Period.

  There was love and commitment and a shared sense of direction. All the building blocks of a solid relationship. But she had deep reservations about it because of the disparity between them when it came to their careers. If she married him before her own career took off some people would think she was latching on and that was how she got her book deals and other media contracts.

  So it had meant a lot to her to be taken seriously for her work. And for her success. Because Gregori wasn’t just a highly successful artist, he was a unicorn. One of those very few who’d enjoyed spectacular success from pretty much go. He wasn’t just a big name in the art world either. He’d achieved a level of fame and financial security that was a fantasy for most.

  He deserved it. But it was hard to live in that shadow sometimes. Most of what she needed to prove had been to herself. And she was there.

  He was everything to her. And damn if she didn’t love the idea of being his wife.

  “You sure you want to marry me?” she asked, though she knew the answer. She needed to hear him say it again.

  “I love you to my bones. I’ve wanted to marry you for the last three years,” he said, not bothering to hide the annoyed affection in his tone. “I ask. You say no. Do you not remember this?”

  “Yes. To both questions I mean.” She grinned.

  He thought a moment as if parsing out what she’d said and when he realized she’d accepted his proposal he rolled her to her back, leaning down to kiss her like a pirate.

  Then he showed her the ring box again. “This was my grandmother’s ring. My mother gave it to me several years ago with very specific instructions that it was only for you and that if I was stupid enough to let you get away, I had to give this back. I suppose I hoped it might help make my case at long last.” He slid the engagement ring on her finger and she paused, stunned and touched deeply as she looked at the way it sparkled.

  “I love it.” A piece of his past. A token of acceptance from the other most important woman in his life, his moth
er.

  He kissed her then. Long and sweet. He took his time as he poured all his pleasure into it.

  “You’re such a fantastic kisser,” she murmured against his lips. In truth he was fantastic at most things of a sensual or sexual nature. An artist in bed as well.

  Wren knew her good fortune and was grateful for it every day.

  “Because I’m addicted to your taste.” Underlining that statement, he cruised his mouth down her neck and across her collarbone. Licking over her freckles here and here.

  Every time was this way. Even after years, each touch was hotter than the last.

  Wren dug her nails into his shoulders as he caught her nipple between his teeth through the fabric of the camisole she wore. He growled in response and kicked her pulse higher.

  Her skin heated, the scent rising, intermingling with sex in the air all around them. Gregori reared back enough to look down into her face with a smirk before he kissed her quickly.

  “Excellent. Now we’re in accord. So we leave tomorrow morning for New York,” he said.

  “What? Wait. Why?” she managed as he kept on kissing her all over the place and making her dumb.

  “I’ve got everything planned. We’re staying at Un Nid Douillet.”

  A Cozy Nest. Yeah, that was the hotel where Wren tracked Gregori down nearly six years before to win his heart for good. Thank heavens it worked. It was a swanky boutique hotel for rich artist types of the sort she just agreed to marry.

  It had lovely memories.

  “You have everything planned?”

  He sighed. “Well, naturally I was hoping you’d finally say yes so that it would be more than just a trip to New York City. We’ll get our marriage license first thing and we can have the ceremony the following day. We’ve got reservations at all your favorite restaurants and all the time you’d like to visit museums and galleries. Because we’ll be getting married without all our family around, we’ll need a party when we return.”

  “Wait, we’re getting married now?”

  His expression eased her terror and made her laugh. He clearly had no idea what to do with her sometimes.

  He sighed. A wonderfully sexy, slightly grumpy, very Russian sound. “Kotyonok. Well, not now. Now I’m hoping we’re going to fuck. But when I take you to New York tomorrow yes, we’ll get married at City Hall. You’ve told me repeatedly you don’t want a ceremony so I will accede to your demand on that.”

  “You’ve planned this whole thing in advance? For me?”

  “I just answered that, didn’t I? I think I should be insulted by how little faith you have.” He gave her a slow rise of his left eyebrow and made her stretch up a little to kiss his neck.

  After sweeping his hair back from his face, she cupped his cheek momentarily. “I love you. I was just teasing.”

  “I know you better than you know yourself. You’re everything to me. I want this to be a good memory for the start of our marriage,” he said as if it was appalling she’d think anything else.

  “We can make some good memories right now, too,” she murmured as she reached down between their bodies to find him hard and ready.

  “Does this mean we’re on our way to get married tomorrow?” he asked.

  “I can take the time to go become your wife, yeah.”

  He dipped down to capture her mouth, the warmth of him, the way he tasted like no one and nothing else seemed to settle down in her belly. Warm and familiar. The weight something she never forgot to be grateful for.

  His teeth dragged down her throat, pausing to nip her sharply where her shoulder met her neck. The intensity took her in with him, dragged her with sharp claws into the type of heat she’d never had with anyone else.

  In Russian, he murmured and snarled, pulling her underwear free of her body. He told her how beautiful she was, how sexy and delicious. It sent shivers over her skin.

  As she attempted to struggle from her tank top, he pretended to help, but he had an ulterior motive as he tangled her arms and wrists up in the fabric, holding them behind her back. She went still on a gasp.

  His chuckle against the side of her breast sent puffs of air over her nipple. He knew exactly how he affected her. Relished making her gasp and moan.

  Again, she thought of how lucky she was to be loved the way Gregori loved her.

  His beard rasped over the hypersensitive skin stretched over her ribs as he kissed over the ink she’d added for her birthday two years before. Brilliant fire. The title of a painting he’d done, inspired by her.

  He’d claimed that the spot carved into his soul that she fit into was brilliant fire. Indestructible and everlasting. Of course he’d told her that when they’d been naked, after he’d made her come three times within an hour and she was boneless, sweaty and very satisfied.

  So then she’d had the words written on her body the way they were seared into her heart.

  The tattoo had been a present for herself, but when Wren had unveiled it for him, it had been impossible to miss the emotion in his eyes. He’d kissed her as he swept her up into his arms. Her normally quiet man overtaken by happiness.

  The memory made her smile.

  He could be temperamental, absolutely. But he felt so many things deeply. His sentimental streak never ceased to make her swoon. “No one knows what a sweet softy you are underneath all the ink and artistic crankiness,” she told him.

  He snorted, nipping her sharply before leaning in to lick over her nipple. “Only for you. You’re the keeper of my very favorite things.” He cupped her pussy momentarily, the heat of his hand and the possessive nature of the act sent a dark thrill through her.

  “While that part is mine, I’m always glad to let you play with it.”

  His dark chuckle turned her on so much she had to stretch up to grasp that luscious bottom lip of his between her teeth and that laugh turned into a snarl. Her favorite type of snarl from him.

  “You’re playing with fire,” he told her in Russian. She’d had to learn it or risk being talked about by his family and friends behind her back, but she’d never regretted it because he said the sexiest stuff.

  “I know.” She reached down to cup his balls. “I like it hot.”

  He rolled them over so she was on top so she scrambled up to straddle his body.

  “I’m about to make it even hotter,” he murmured as he slid his fingertips through her pussy, making her see stars. That was before he circled her clit with infinite slowness and patience.

  “Yeah, that works for me,” she managed to slur against the burst of sensation.

  He took her up and over into orgasm so fast it caught her by—delighted—surprise. And while she was hot and ready for him, he slipped up and into her body to his balls.

  She sucked in a breath and tried not to drown in how he felt as he filled her up before sliding nearly all the way out and slid back in again. Too much and never enough. All she could do was hold on as he took her deep with him.

  Wren allowed her head to tip back as he fucked into her body, letting him take them both wherever he wanted. She knew she’d enjoy the trip. He always put her pleasure first and foremost.

  He spoke, soft and snarled, burr edged and smooth, telling her how much she was to him. This Gregori was irresistible. This man adored her, worshipped her, accepted and loved every bit, even the yucky parts.

  It was the type of aphrodisiac she’d never imagined and hotter than fire.

  She clamped her inner muscles tight around him as she added a shimmy when he seated himself fully with a snap of his hips.

  The look he gave her was one of challenge, one she happily returned before tucking her feet up on his thighs to better control her motion.

  “Give me that sound I love so much,” he told her as he took her breasts into his hands, finding her nipples and tugging just so.

  It wasn’t a s
ound she could begin to fake, the moan-gasp of pleasure only he seemed to be able to draw from her.

  But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to make him work for it.

  Tough talk from her until he slid one of his hands down her belly and then to her pussy, pulling her labia apart and exposing her clit.

  He knew her well enough to squeeze it gently and that sound, rough and jagged, burst from her lips, making him smirk.

  “Ah. That’s the one,” he murmured.

  * * *

  His beautiful queen rose and fell above him as his climax began to dig itself into his bones. Set him on fire with need for her.

  Exciting. Thrilling. Hot and tight. Damn but he loved her. Loved the playful edge of their connection. Loved, too, the deep sexual chemistry they’d had since the first time he’d allowed himself a kiss.

  She gripped his cock with the inner muscles of her pussy and sent all conscious thoughts skittering away, then bent to lick across his chest over to one nipple, toying with the bar piercing it until he was nearly squirming.

  * * *

  His.

  He wanted another orgasm from her. Loved taking her over the edge. Loved that he was the only one who got to see her this way, so exposed and vulnerable to his hands, his mouth, his words and cock.

  Still tugging her nipple with one hand, he plumped her clit in time with the tugs with his other hand, knowing her like he knew himself. Knowing each sound she made as she got hotter and hotter, closer and closer. Knowing the way her inner walls hugged him, superheated and slick because of him.

  “Yes, more. I want all of you,” he said and a delicate shiver rode over her as she righted herself, straightening her spine and shifting so she could look down at him. Eyes glossy with desire. Lips swollen from his kisses.

  Her smile told him she was nearly there, which was good as he was dancing on the edge himself and he needed her to go first.

  He kept his pace deep and slow, in time with gentle squeezes of her clit until a flush bloomed up her chest and she came all around him in a lava-hot rush that made it impossible to wait any longer.