Just Married

by Rory Reynolds

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Just Married

  Rory Reynolds

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Untitled

  His Hellcat

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books by Rory Reynolds

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2018 by Rory Reynolds. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email rory@roryreynoldsromance.com.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Synopsis

  They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

  They lie.

  My shameful Vegas mistake followed me home.

  This filthy-talking bad boy says he wants forever.

  ...I want a divorce.

  I’ve been a bridesmaid fifteen times. Never a bride, no matter how much I wished for it.

  Kingston Bennett broke my heart once, and I swore I'd never give him a second chance.

  Drunk me disagreed.

  Drunk me thought it would be a good idea to marry the bad boy from my past.

  Drunk me is an idiot.

  Sober me wants to run, but Kingston won’t let me go.

  Can I trust him with my happily ever after?

  to making mistakes…

  Prologue

  Kingston

  She's so fucking beautiful. I haven't been able to take my eyes off her all night. Sitting next to her at dinner was trying. It's been years since we've been in the same room together and having the only woman I've ever craved right beside me was the worst and best kind of torture. It took an immense amount of self-control for me to keep from taking her into my arms and kissing her breathless. Especially, when I caught the strain in her smile. If you took her at face value, you would see her wide smile and be jealous of whatever it was that made her so happy. But I know better, I've seen Peyton happy-truly happy-and she is most definitely not happy.

  I tried to strike up a conversation with her more than once during the meal, but she was constantly chatting with our tablemates. I caught her attention once or twice, but I got polite responses and nothing more. I'll be honest; I'm not a bit surprised that she avoided talking to me. I've not been the most friendly guy in the past, and the only excuse I've got is lame as fuck.

  Jealousy.

  Green-eyed monster style jealousy. Peyton and my little brother, Theo, have been best friends since high school. Her family moved in next door to us the summer of my junior year. Peyton was a knock-out even then. Thick brown hair, green eyes with little flecks of gold, and pink pouty lips.

  I swear she had every man in the county wrapped around her little finger. She would push that bottom lip out and get this soft, pleading look in her eyes and no matter who it was they were under her spell. I was watching from my bedroom window, trying to convince myself to introduce myself to her, when Theo jogged up to her taking the box from her hands and giving her one of his patented smiles.

  I wasn't shocked when the pair became fast friends. Theo was and still is a great guy. I can't blame Peyton for preferring his company to mine. We are about as opposite as they come. He's quick to smile and charming while I'm brooding and closed off. I'd like to say I'm a changed man. The truth is, I'm the same as I've ever been with only one exception, now I don't hesitate to take what I want.

  And I want Peyton.

  The bartender leans closer to my girl, saying something that has a grin spreading across Peyton's lush lips. Jealousy rips through me at seeing the first genuine smile I've seen from her all night. I want to be the one to give her those smiles, and some asshole is getting the pleasure. I clench my fists at my sides, trying to control myself. Flying off the handle won't help me win Peyton over. I know I have my work cut out for me after our tumultuous past. I'm determined to make her mine, and I only have three days to make it happen.

  She throws her head back laughing. Her glossy brown hair trails down her back stopping just above the curve of her ass. I can't help appreciating the way her dress molds to her every curve. The bartender finally walks away, and I breathe a little easier when her friend, Tammy, drags her out to the dance floor. That lasts about five seconds because then they are dancing and all those curves I was just appreciating are moving to the seductive beat of the music. My cock throbs in my pants at the sight.

  Peyton's hips sway back and forth like a pendulum keeping time with the music. I see red when one of Theo's friends moves in behind her, gripping her hips. Before I can stand up, Tammy has pulled her away from the guy and is dancing with her as if they were lovers. Peyton plays the part perfectly, turning so that her back is pressed against Tammy's front.

  "What are you staring at?" Theo's voice shakes me out of my trance.

  "Nothing," I say, gripping the tumbler of whiskey in my hand tightly.

  Theo's laughing response grates on my nerves, but the words that follow are like a punch to the gut. "When are you going to quit being an idiot and make a move?"

  I take a long drink, relishing in the smooth burn as the alcohol flows down my throat. "She's too damned good for me."

  Theo laughs again. "No shit, brother, but don't you think it's time to put the past behind you? You deserve to be happy, and so does Peyton. If I didn't think you could find that happiness together this would be a different conversation. I would bury you before I let you hurt her."

  "Gee, thanks, bro," I say sarcastically.

  Theo grips my shoulder before walking away. His words play on repeat in my mind as I watch Peyton dance. I should be glad that my brother gave me his blessing, but it rankles that I even felt like I needed his permission. I'm not that guy. I take what I want when I want it. I'm so completely lost in my thoughts that I almost miss when Peyton pulls away from the crowd that had surrounded her on the dancefloor. She's making her way back to the bar. The bartender that was serving her earlier looks her up and down as she walks toward him. I clench my fist around my glass so tightly I'm surprised it doesn't shatter in my hand. I cross the room to the bar without a second thought. Theo was right; it's time I claim my woman.

  Chapter One

  Peyton

  Oh, God.

  Who turned on the sun and why is there a marching band in my head? I let out a pathetic groan that causes me to wince—too loud. I roll over and bury my face into my pillow, luxuriating in the fact that the bright light of day has been snuffed out. I consider all t
he ways I can murder Tammy while the drumline competition continues in my head.

  How could she let me drink so much? I thought we were friends.

  I admit that I needed a couple of drinks. This whole weekend is taking a toll on me, not that I’d ever say that out loud. That’s the benefit of good friends. Tammy just knew that I needed to let loose a little. Not that anyone would blame me. I mean we are in Vegas for my baby sister’s wedding. A wedding in which she is marrying the only man I’ve ever loved.

  Don’t misunderstand. I’m actually really happy for my sister and Theo. Theo and I are best friends. My love for him is totally platonic. People used to assume that we were together, especially after we moved in together, but it’s never been that way for us.

  Well, except for that one drunken night with an awkward kiss and even more awkward boob grab. We don’t speak of that train wreck of a night—ever—that was the end of Taco and Tequila Tuesdays. Theo is a solid fixture in my life, and I can’t imagine my life without him in it. So, no, I’m not upset about the who… it’s the whole wedding in general that had me drowning in sweet alcoholic bliss last night.

  Somehow, I’ve managed to become that girl, you know the one, always a bridesmaid, never a bride. I’ve been in fifteen weddings in the last six years. It’s become an ongoing joke within my circle of friends. I laugh right along with them because I can’t bear the idea of anyone knowing how badly I want my own happily ever after. Tammy is the only person that knows my secret, and that’s only because, after a couple of bottles of cheap wine and enough Chinese food to feed an army, I was feeling chatty.

  With her encouragement, I easily ignored the warnings of the bartender who was mixing up the fancy drinks my sister paid a mixologist to create just for her wedding. It was something she saw on one of those reality shows featuring crazy brides and over-the-top weddings. Bartender Brad, sexiest mixer of the best drinks known to man, became my best friend. He warned me that the fruity drink would sneak up on me, but drink number two went down without any of the sweet oblivion I craved. I distinctly remember him shaking his head as he handed over my third drink and I slammed it back like cheap beer at a frat party. I also remember demanding another immediately after… that’s about the time things get fuzzy.

  The bed dips beside me causing my head to spin and my stomach to roll. “I hate you,” I groan pathetically. I swear if I could move without dying I would kick Tammy’s ass right out of this bed.

  A deep chuckle responds as a big hand—definitely not Tammy’s hand—runs up my thigh, stopping to cup my ass. My very naked ass. “That’s not what you said last night, babe,” says the owner of the hand on my ass. His lips skate over my shoulder and up the line of my neck. The roughness of his beard sensitizes my skin. “In fact, you liked me a whole lot last night,” he says, his voice a deep rumble in my ear. His hot breath raises goosebumps on my skin, and despite my miserably hungover state, my body responds. My nipples harden and desire flares to life.

  I wrack my brain, desperately trying to find a memory—any memory—of who I’m in bed with, but no matter how hard I try, it’s a complete blank. My mind scrambles as he runs his calloused hand up my back. I shiver at the sensation. I might not remember who this stranger is, but my body obviously does. He buries his hand in my hair and gently massages my scalp, soothing the blinding ache in my head. If this is any indication of the feelings he invoked in my body last night, he’s right. I do like him—whoever he is—a whole lot.

  The sureness of his fingers against my scalp pulls a soft moan from the back of my throat. “That feels so good,” I whimper.

  Logically, I should be freaking the hell out right now. I just had my very first one-night stand, with a complete stranger, who is currently working some kind of voodoo on my body. I’m completely enraptured and want nothing more than to stay in this bed, soaking up the crazy good feeling of his hands on my body. Unexplainable and ridiculous as it is.

  “See, I told you that you liked me.” His voice takes on a teasing quality.

  I like you alright, but who the hell are you? I think to myself as his lips graze my shoulder again sending another thrill down my spine.

  “We better get you up and ready,” he says, confusing the hell out of me.

  Ready? Ready for what? The wedding! I have to be at the spa for the pre-bachelorette party.

  Oh, shit!

  I shoot up out of bed and instantly regret moving so fast when the room spins and my stomach lurches.

  “Easy there, baby,” he says. His voice like warm honey as he wraps his arms around me, steadying me on my feet. The hard plains of his body mold almost perfectly against mine—his very naked body against my very naked body. I pull away from his grasp and take in my surroundings, avoiding looking up at mystery man like the scaredy cat that I am. I’m still in the hotel, that’s one plus in my favor, but this is most definitely not the room I’m sharing with Tammy. Small miracles, at least she wasn’t a witness to my first trip to Slutsville. Thanks, Brad, I mentally stab the bartender for not stopping me before I got black-out drunk.

  I guess there’s no hope of getting out of this room without the awkwardness of the morning after, then, of course, the walk of shame. I steel my spine and turn, facing the mystery man for the first time. As soon as my eyes land on him I gasp in realization.

  Oh, my God.

  Oh, God.

  What the fuck did you do, Peyton?!

  I just had a one-night stand with Kingston Barrett. Sexy as sin, totally off-limits Kingston fucking Barrett. I’ve had a crush on the guy since high school, but I was never even a blip on his radar. To this day, I still find it hard to believe that Theo and Kingston are brothers.

  Theo is boy next door cute with a gentle personality. He’s quick to laugh and generally liked by all who know him.

  Kingston? Well, he is hard. I’m not just talking about his body, though it’s perfection personified. The fact is proven true as my eyes rove over his toned body of their own free will. His thick arms are covered in tattoos that wrap around his biceps, curving up around his broad shoulders before trailing down his chest.

  My eyes move lower, following his perfectly tanned skin. His body tapers down to a trim waist. I can’t seem to draw my gaze away from the hard slabs of muscle covering his abdominals—well, that is until he shifts slightly, and I’m distracted. Saliva pools in my mouth and I swallow thickly. I don’t know why I’m surprised, but he has one of those V things that make even the smartest of women stupid. I’ve seen them in pictures and always understood the appeal but seeing it in person is jaw-dropping. Literally. I blink up at him stupidly, and I’m taken aback when I realize he’s looking at me with as much hunger as I feel. My nipples harden, and my pussy grows slick in response.

  I lick my lips and get a small thrill when his eyes darken and zero in on my mouth. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth and let my gaze sweep down his body again. This time I allow my eyes to go lower. He’s completely naked, a fact that I noticed when he was pressed against my body moments ago, but as they say, seeing is believing and holy moly am I seeing.

  His cock is thick, I’m not sure my fingers could wrap all the way around his girth, and he’s long, at least ten inches. For a second, I mourn the fact that such a beautiful cock is on such an arrogant prick. A drop of pre-come gathers at the tip of his glorious length, my mouth waters at the sight.

  A memory flashes through my mind—me on my knees, Kingston’s hands buried in my hair as he slides his cock between my lips, guiding me exactly the way he wants. Using me for his pleasure as I excitedly lick and suck his thick length. The memory makes my pussy clench, and I consider falling to my knees right now and worshiping his cock. And let me tell you, it is worthy of worship.

  Kingston takes a step toward me, and I instinctively take one back. His dark eyes flash with hurt, but as soon as it’s there, it’s gone so I must’ve imagined it. My heart pangs in my chest, an unfamiliar emotion gripping me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn�
��t drawn to Kingston. He’s the epitome of a motorcycle riding, leather wearing bad boy. Which is funny because he’s also a high-profile CEO to his own corporation, spending his days playing with millions of dollars like it’s Monopoly money. He wears his hair a little on the long side, and it always looks like someone just ran their fingers through it giving him a just fucked look.

  Jealousy spikes and I’m irrationally angry when I think of all the models and beautiful women he’s photographed with at all the charity events he attends. The very idea that they could be the cause of that just fucked look leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. It’s an old emotion I’ve fought against for longer than I’d like to admit, it’s also why I’ve done my best to avoid being around him. Until last night at the rehearsal dinner, I hadn’t seen him face to face in nearly five years. I knew that we were going to see each other, and I thought I had prepared myself, but I obviously failed.

  When I saw the place settings at dinner last night, I desperately wanted to switch places with someone, anyone, but it was impossible. As maid of honor and best man, we are paired together for all the events this weekend.

  Every time he tried to strike up a conversation last night, I was able to evade him. I was both relieved and hurt that he so easily gave up on getting my attention.