Copyright © 2018 by Tracy Lorraine
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by Pinpoint Editing
Cover design by Pop Kitty
Formatting by Tracy Lorraine
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
The Cocktail Girls
Book Hangover Lounge
About the Author
Also by Tracy Lorraine
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Ruined Plans
Ruined Plans
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1
Summer
My head pounds as I roll over. Pressing my palm against my heated forehead, I take a few deep breaths and will the pain to subside. Images of last night’s champagne hit me just before a much more vivid memory.
Fighting the effects of my hangover, I prop myself up on my elbows. The bed’s empty. My heart races; was it all just a dream? Did he not come back for me? But why was I here in this fancy suite?
Slowly, I look around. My breath catches as my eyes land on who I was expecting to find lying next to me. Only, he’s sitting on the chaise at the end of the bed wearing a pair of boxer briefs and staring at me with an amused smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. My mouth waters as my gaze drops to his muscular chest.
When I make it back up to his face, his smile widens and a cheeky glint appears in his eyes. “What?”
“Nothing. Just admiring my beautiful wife.”
A cough bubbles up my throat as confusion engulfs me. “Your what?” I ask after clearing my throat once again.
His amusement gets the better of him and as he rises from the chaise, a smile splits his face, making dimples appear in his cheeks.
“My wife,” he repeats possessively, crawling up the bed towards me. “Do you need a reminder of last night?” His eyes stay on mine and tingles shoot around my body from that alone.
“Uh…” My words trail off as I’m suddenly assaulted with memories. Finding Harrison in this suite, the mind-blowing sex that followed, and the champagne—oh, the champagne! My stomach turns over at just the thought of drinking any more. I remember leaving the hotel with him, but everything’s a bit of a blur after that.
“You weren’t lying when you said you didn’t drink, were you?”
“Harrison…did we…did we really get…”
Pulling the covers away from me, he finds my left hand before bringing it up in front of my face. “We really did.” I stare at the shiny silver wedding band now circling my ring finger. My eyes widen as he shows me a matching one on his hand.
“Holy shit,” I gasp, moving away from him. I sit up so quick it makes my head spin to the point I think I’m going to puke. He shifts around behind me and when I look over my shoulder, he’s sitting back against the headboard with an unreadable expression on his face.
Turning away from him again, I rack my brain for any kind of memories from what was apparently my wedding night, but I’ve got nothing.
“I’ll just be a few minutes.” Unable to compute what he’s just told me, I plod towards the en suite to at least brush my teeth before we have the rest of this conversation….in which my husband has to tell me all about our wedding.
What the fuck have I done? Yes, I was regretting not being more spontaneous and not getting on that flight to be with him, but marrying him the second he reappears is crazy. Isn’t it?
I’m deep in thought, staring at myself in the mirror when the door suddenly flies open. Harrison stands in the doorway with a serious look on his face, his whole body tense.
“What’s wrong?” It comes out as a weak whisper. I’m already feeling uneasy about what I can’t remember; I don’t need him acting weird as well.
“Nothing,” he says, marching into the room. His hands go to my waist when he reaches me and he pushes me backwards until I crash into the tiled wall in the shower. Heat pools between my legs from the possessive look in his eyes. He stares down at me the entire time. The heat and intensity ensure tingles erupt in my lower belly as anticipation washes through me. “You’re mine, Summer. You’re my wife. I won’t have you locking yourself in here to freak out.”
“I wasn’t, I was just…”
“Freaking out.” His hands come up to rest either side of my neck before he lowers his head and his lips find mine. I sigh the second his taste explodes on my tongue and I’m reminded of everything that’s between us. That instant attraction I haven’t been able to shift since the second I crashed into him a couple of weeks ago. Even the distance between us, while he was in London, didn’t lessen the effect he has on me.
Harrison kisses a line across my jaw and down my neck until he licks over my collarbone.
“Fucking missed this body,” he mutters as he continues over the swell of my breast before sucking my nipple into his mouth and making my head fall back against the tiles. My breathing becomes erratic with my impatience.
I expect him to come back up but he does the opposite and drops to his knees in front of me. He pushes my feet apart before opening me up and putting his tongue exactly where I need it, against my pulsing core. We may have had sex god knows how many times last night but it’s not enough. It’s never enough with him.
“Oh, god,” I moan as he teases my clit.
“I want to feel you coming,” he says, the vibrations of his voice helping to push my release closer. His finger teases my entrance and it’s the final push I need. I fall apart while he continues sucking at me, milking every last ounce of pleasure from my body.
“Now, I need to be inside my wife. I need to make her mine.” Butterflies explode inside me. It may not have been what I was expecting to wake up to this morning but for some reason, it feels so right.
His boxers are gone before I have a chance to blink, and he lifts me and presses me into the cold tiles as if I weigh nothing. He wraps my legs around his waist and in seconds he’s pressing into me.
“Mine,” he repeats when he’s fully seated. Pulling back, he stares at me, the look in his eyes makes my breath catch. The heat, hunger and the possession reflected back at me would be enough to make my knees weak if I were using them.
Something tells me that belonging to Harrison is no bad thing.
His thrusts pick up speed as he sucks on my neck. I scratch at his back and shoulders as I try to get him deeper, my second orgasm growing within me.
“Harrison,” I whimper.
“Let go, let me feel you.”
At his demand, I fall apart. My muscles clench tightly around him, making him grunt as his own release crashes into him.
“Do you think many couples consummate their marriage in the shower?” he grunts into my neck as he continues to thrust slowly into me.
“What?” I was under the impression I was too drunk to remember that as well. “Didn’t we…”
“No, you passed out once we got back to the room. Getting you out of your wedding dress wasn’t anywhere near as sexy as I hoped it would
be.”
Harrison
“I’m going to make you remember, you know?”
“How’s that?” she asks sleepily, still dazed from her multiple orgasms.
Turning the water on, I push her back under it. “We’re going to relive it.”
“Tell me everything.”
“Okay.” I grab the shampoo and start washing her hair as I think back to the night before. “Do you remember going to the casino?”
“Vaguely.”
“Well after our first bottle of champagne, you suggested making the most of Vegas, so we went down and played some slots. You said you wanted to do something with me that you’d not done since moving here.” She nods like she remembers. “We were on a bit of a losing streak but it didn’t stop you raising the stakes. You told me that if I won on the next spin, you’d marry me and move to London.”
She sucks in a breath as her eyes widen in surprise. “I said that?”
“You did. And guess what?”
“You won.”
“I certainly did, beautiful.”
“But you knew I was drunk, right?”
“I thought you’d remember, if that’s what you mean.”
“So what happened next?” she asks eagerly.
“I scooped up the winnings, grabbed your hand and we ran out of there. We made our way towards a little chapel where I bought you a dress and our rings, and no more than thirty minutes later we were husband and wife.”
“Oh god,” she groans, dropping her face to my chest.
“What?”
“Please tell me Elvis didn’t marry us.” I can’t help but laugh at her as she peeks up at me.
“No, Elvis didn’t marry us. Just some woman dressed in normal clothes. I’m sure she’s in the photos.”
“There are photos?” Her eyes light up in delight and my heart melts. Last night was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.
“Of course. You don’t think I’d marry the woman of my dreams without getting evidence?”
“I can’t believe they allow people to get married when they’re drunk,” she mutters as I rinse the conditioner from her hair, the soft blonde lengths falling easily through my fingers. I begin to harden again as images of my fingers tangled in her hair for another reason entirely fill my head.
“This is Vegas.”
“True.”
Last night might not have been planned. I came back here with the intention of not leaving again unless she was by my side but a shotgun, drunken wedding was definitely not on the cards. My mum’s going to be pissed, I think as I grab the shower gel from the shelf and rub it over her gorgeous curves.
“Getting ready for round two?” she asks when my now fully erect cock bobs between us.
“Damn right, Mrs. Abbot.”
“That sounds so weird.”
“Good weird?”
“Weird, weird. I woke up married.”
“Well, what did you expect when you moved to Las Vegas?”
“Not this, that’s for sure.”
“You mean you didn’t expect to fall in love with an English man and have a drunk wedding?”
“Nope, neither of those were on my to-do list,” she admits with a laugh. “So what’s next for us then, husband?”
“Oh, I’ve got some plans.”
“Is that right?”
“It sure is, beautiful,” I say with a wink as I run my hand down her stomach and find her as ready for me as I am for her once again.
2
Summer
I hoped that looking at the photographs would help trigger some memories of last night, but other than the chapel and the registrar looking familiar, it doesn’t really help.
Staring down at my wedding band, excitement and anxiety duel in my stomach. I can’t believe I’m a wife—or more so that Harrison’s my husband. This time yesterday I was miserable because he’d left, and now I’m sitting here a newlywed. We’ve got so much that needs to be discussed. He’s mentioned moving to London more than once already, but can I really just pack up my life and move halfway around the world at the drop of a hat? I may not have been of sound mind last night, but I know I made the right decision. Harrison has lodged himself deep in my heart. He’s been there since the moment I bumped into him in the LBD, I just didn’t realise it at the time.
“Shit.” Reality comes crashing down and dread sits heavier in my stomach.
“What’s wrong?”
“My job.”
“I’ve sorted Max out. You don’t need to go back there.”
“Really? He was happy with that?”
“He was once I paid him for your time.”
“He made you pay him?”
“He’s a real arsehole. But you’re free now.”
Panic bubbles up as everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours really starts to settle in. “But I need that job, Harrison. I need money.”
“Summer, calm down,” he soothes when I start to hyperventilate. His hand sneaks around to the back of my neck and he massages my tense muscles until I begin to relax. “You don’t need that job. And if it’s money you’re worried about, I’ve got that covered—”
“I’m not sponging off you just because you’re my husband.” I can’t help that my lips twitch up into a small smile as I say the word. “I need a job. I need money. There are things I want to do with my life…Your family business has nothing to do with me; I didn’t marry you for your money.”
“I know you didn’t, you married me because you were drunk,” he says with a laugh, but I don’t join in. Our wedding shouldn’t be a joke, and I hate that’s what I’ve turned it into. “That’s not what I meant,” he says, returning to the issue at hand. He gets up and walks over to his case, rummaging inside. “Here.”
“What’s this?” I ask, unfolding what seems to be a chain of emails. My eyes flick over the words but I don’t understand what I’m reading.
“An offer for some of your art.”
“What?” My brows draw together. When I find a figure amongst the text, I can’t help but balk. “How much?”
“I told you, your art is good enough to sell.”
“That’s crazy, Harrison,” I say, dropping the paper to the coffee table and walking to the other side of the room. “They’re just quick sketches. They’re not worth that.”
“Art is only worth what someone is willing to pay. I didn’t put a price to them; that’s what they’re offering just from seeing the photos I took.”
“It’s insane,” I say, still pacing the room.
“Maybe so,” he says, grasping my upper arms and making me stop in front of him. “But talent is priceless, Summer.” He drops a kiss to the tip of my nose and my stomach does somersaults. No one’s ever supported my desire to be an artist. Everyone’s always told me I’ll never make any money or be successful, but he gets it. No, he doesn’t just get it—he has the same passion for it. “I want to give you everything, beautiful. Make all your dreams come true. There are some incredible places to study in London, if that’s what you want.”
A lump forms in my throat and tears sting my eyes as I look at the sincerity oozing from his. He really means that. My anxiety settles a little the longer I stare at him.
“Thank you,” I whisper around the lump, but it hardly seems enough for what he’s offering.
“Now get dressed. We’ve got a wedding to relive.”
Running my hand over the ivory satin of the wedding dress I apparently picked for last night, tiny pieces of what happened start to surface. The memory of suggesting we get married is there along with standing at a desk—I guess in the chapel—and then waiting. As happy as I am that little bits seem to be becoming clearer, it’s nothing like being able to remember every single part of saying ‘I do’ to the incredible man who’s currently watching me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
The gown is really simple, exactly like something I would choose sober, but the weight of the f
abric tells me it’s anything but a cheap last-minute, off the rack number.
“You’re going to wear that again for me one day,” I hear from over my shoulder. Turning to look at him, I notice his eyes are once again dark and full of heat. “I’ll have another chance to peel that from your body like I intended to last night.”
Heat pools in my core at the dominance in his tone. My sudden onslaught of lust is almost enough to stop me feeling guilty about ruining our wedding night—almost.
“You deserve better than a Vegas wedding anyway. Once we’re settled in London you can plan a proper one. That might also go some way to getting my mum and sister to like me again.”
Thoughts of family make my breathing falter. How the hell am I going to tell my parents that not only am I moving to London with a man I’ve basically just met, but that I’ve also married him? Without them? Averting my gaze from Harrison, I turn back sadly towards my dress. Everything that’s already happened, as well as what my life is about to become, suddenly seems like a giant weight on my shoulders.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” The heat of his body is instantly at my back.
Squaring my shoulders and telling myself not to allow them to ruin this for me, I push the thought aside and focus on the man in front of me. “Nothing.” He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, well…nothing that can’t be worried about later.” My words seem to pacify him and after pulling me in for a hug, he tells me to get dressed so we can revisit last night.
I stand and look between my gorgeous wedding gown and my ratty second hand little black dress and let out a sigh. “Can we go to my place so I can get some fresh clothes first?”
“We can go shopping if you want. Get you some new ones.”
Her Kensington: A British Billionaire Romance (The Cocktail Girls Book 2) Page 1
