I never said my feelings make sense.
In fact, when it comes to Kingston, I’m all over the place. My body betrayed me by reacting to his closeness. The spicy scent of his cologne and his easy confidence made it impossible not to react. I swear there was a moment or two that I was practically drooling all over him. As soon as the meal was over, I escaped to the bar with Tammy and somehow wound up here, naked in the hotel room of the man I’ve lusted over since forever.
“I should leave,” I say, hating how breathless I sound.
“You should stay,” he counters.
I shake my head and start searching the room for my clothes. My dress is balled up on the floor. I cringe knowing it’s going to be a wrinkled mess. There will be no way to conceal my walk of shame status wearing it. I collect the dress from the floor, and after a quick survey of the room, I can’t readily see my bra or panties. Deciding it’s more prudent to make my escape quickly than to find them I pull my dress over my head. I let out a squeak of surprise when I open my eyes to Kingston standing mere inches from me. He’s so close I can feel the heat radiating off his skin.
Before I can put distance between us, he cups my face in his big hands and crashes his lips to mine. I gasp in response to his ferocity, and his tongue plunges into my mouth tangling with mine. I’m caught off guard for a few seconds, but then lust fogs my brain, and I return his fervor. My tongue dances with his until it’s impossible to determine who’s kissing who. He grips the back of my neck, pulling me closer. The long, hard length of his body presses against my much smaller frame setting me aflame. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull myself up on my tip toes to get better access to his mouth.
My head spins as I’m swept away. My hangover completely forgotten, stamped out completely by our passionate embrace. Need ignites, and my blood burns hot in my veins. I have no clue how long we are lost in the kiss, but I do know that I don’t want it to end. My phone rings breaking the moment like a bucket of ice water poured over my head. I rip my lips away from his, and stumble away from him. His arms are still outstretched, and I can see he’s considering pulling me back against him.
I back away and wonder what universe I’m in that Kingston is looking at me with longing. No that’s not possible, it’s just lust in his eyes, nothing more. Maybe in some parallel universe he’d look at me like that, but not here. He had never given me the time of day when we were younger, even when I spent hours at his house hanging out with Theo.
There was always this awkward tension between us. I’ll admit, on my end the awkwardness stemmed from my ridiculous attraction to him. I always assumed he was just an asshole and didn’t like me. He picked on me and made me feel insignificant. He never once engaged me in an actual conversation. Last night must have been temporary insanity brought on by copious amounts of alcohol. That’s the only explanation that makes a lick of sense.
I grab my clutch and make a mad dash for the door, tripping over his abandoned clothes in the suite’s living room. I make a distressed noise as I fumble with the security lock. I can see Kingston moving toward me out of the corner of my eye.
Shit, shit, shit. I chant in my head, willing the stupid lock to cooperate. When it finally clicks open I spill out of the room into the hallway. Before the door shuts, I hear Kingston shout that I can’t run from him forever. We’ll see about that, I think to myself as I impatiently wait for the elevator.
My eyes keep scanning the hallway, but it’s blessedly empty, and I cross my fingers that I can make it to my room without any witnesses. When I get into the elevator, I realize I’m on the top floor of the hotel where the penthouse suites are located. Ten floors. I have to make it ten floors without the elevator stopping for anyone.
Please, please, please. I silently beg for mercy, but three floors down the elevator slows to a stop, and the doors slide open, two of my cousins step inside. Of course, it couldn’t have been some random person. No, it had to be the two nosiest bitches in the family.
Cece looks me up and down, her lips curled down in disgust. Jen gives me a once over and smirks, a pleased look spreading across her face. She looks like she just hit the gossip jackpot. In her small mind, the attention she’ll get from spreading the news of my walk of shame will be just that.
“Looks like someone had a rough night,” Cece sneers.
Jen laughs, the nasally sound like nails on a chalkboard.
“Nice pedicure,” Cece cackles.
I glance down at my unpolished toes, realizing for the first time that I don’t have my shoes. Fucking fantastic. No underwear and no shoes. When drunk me decides to make a mistake, she does it in epic fashion.
Jen laughs at her dig, adding one of her own. “Looks about as good as those eyebrows.”
“Thanks,” I reply sweetly. “I used the same lady that waxes your lip.”
Her hand flies to her mouth, and she gasps. Thankfully, the doors choose that moment to open on my floor, and I make my escape. I let myself into my room and lean heavily against the door. I thump my head against the hardwood, instantly regretting the move because now that the feel-good endorphins from Kingston’s kisses are gone my hangover is back in full force. The craziness of my morning runs through my head, and I decide that I will never, ever speak of what happened last night or this morning.
Ever.
I won’t think about Kingston’s big hands running along my skin, his lips on my mine. The heat of his tongue as it slicked against mine. I won’t remember the long, thick length of his cock pressed against me. I especially won’t remember the way he looked at me with longing.
Nope. Not going to think about Kingston Barrett at all.
My phone dings and I pull it out of my clutch grimacing when I notice a dozen missed calls and twice as many texts. I don’t even get the chance to look at the messages before my phone starts ringing in my hand, my sister’s smiling face flashing on the screen. I take a deep breath before answering.
“Hel—” I start, but I’m interrupted.
“Oh my God, finally! Where the heck are you?” Jillian shrieks in my ear. I pull the phone away, wincing. I don’t have a chance to respond before she’s back to yelling at me. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago!”
I take a deep breath reminding myself that she’s just high-strung because her wedding is tomorrow, and she wants everything to be perfect. Apparently, everything includes my toenails which no one will see inside the torturous shoes she’s got all the bridesmaids wearing. Though I’m all for the massages she scheduled for us. Lord knows after this morning I need it.
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll be down in thirty minutes.
I down a couple of pain relievers, then take the fastest shower known to man. I’m starting to feel like myself again, though my reflection proves that I’m a hot mess. Hopefully, a good night’s sleep will fix the damage. Otherwise, the fancy makeup artist my sister hired will be earning her paycheck.
After a quick swipe of mascara and a bit—okay, a lot—of concealer, I’m looking human. I pull my hair up into a messy bun, wincing when something snags in my hair. I pull my hand free and look down, expecting a broken nail to be the culprit, my mouth falls open, and I practically choke on my own tongue when I see it…
A ring.
A massive diamond ring.
“What the fuck did you do last night?” I ask my reflection.
Chapter Two
Peyton
Jillian and Tammy are sitting side by side at pedicure stations when I finally make it to the spa. Even though I took the massive diamond off of my finger, it still feels like a weight on my hand. After spending several long minutes freaking out, I pulled myself together, took off the ring and hid it in the bottom of my purse, and decided to forget all about it until later.
Much later.
Like eighty years from now. Or at the very least after Jillian and Theo’s wedding. Oh, God, what would I even say if someone found out? I’ll be a laughing stock or worse, the pathetic loser who can o
nly manage to snag a man if they are both hammered and in Vegas.
“Where on Earth were you, Pey?”
“I can tell you where she wasn’t,” Tammy says with a knowing smirk.
I sit heavily in the seat next to Jillian and plop my feet into the water, sloshing it over the edge of the foot bath and onto the technician who glares at me.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“So… exactly where were you last night?” Both Jillian and Tammy look at me expectantly.
Shit.
I rub my temples and try to come up with a reason why I didn’t stay in our room last night. I could lie and say I gambled all night… but they both know that my job at the library doesn’t pay enough for me to be overly frivolous. Maybe I could tell them I ran into an old friend and stayed up late chatting? No, they know all of my friends, not that I have many.
Double shit.
I take a deep breath and decide that I’ll tell them a partial truth. “I… uh… met someone last night.”
Jillian’s jaw drops in shock. Tammy smiles widely, knowingly. Oh no, what if she knows who it was and what if she knows about the ring?
“You had a one-night stand?!” Jill shrieks. Heads turn, and everyone in the spa is staring at our little group, including Cece and Jen.
Fuck a duck.
“Shhh… keep it down,” I hiss.
“Who was it with?” Jill asks. “Wait, let me guess, it was that sexy bartender, wasn’t it?”
“What, no!”
Tammy’s cheeks flush pink, and she turns her head, suddenly finding her feet very interesting. Grabbing at the opportunity to turn the tables, desperate to avoid discussing my epic mistake of a night—or what little I can remember of it—I ask, “What did you do last night, Tam?”
“Spill,” Jillian demands.
Tammy rolls her eyes. “I had a one-night stand too.”
“You sluts!”
“Jill, I swear to God, if you don’t lower your voice I’m going to murder you.” I look around the room and groan when I see Cece typing away on her phone. Probably texting everyone she knows the juicy tidbits of the conversation she’s overhearing.
“I want details,” she demands.
“I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that Pey wasn’t with Brad, the bartender.”
Thank goodness I didn’t lie and say I spent the night with him last night. That would have been a disaster. Luckily, Jill manages to grill Tammy up until our pedicures are done and we are all taken to separate rooms for our massages, so I was able to dodge a bullet on answering more questions about my night.
The massage is beyond amazing and by the time I’m back up in my room, my body is a limp noodle even though my mind is a tense, jumbled mess.
“Girl, you are not wearing that tonight,” Jillian protests.
I look down at my clothes and can’t find anything wrong with what I’m wearing. My dress is pale blue with a sweetheart neckline and hits me mid-thigh. Since I smoothly left my heels behind in Kingston’s room this morning, I’m wearing cute ballet flats. I shudder when I think of the dress I was forced into wearing last night. Tammy saw my simple black dress and threw it in the trash, then proceeded to dress me in one of her dresses that show way more skin than I’ve ever been comfortable with.
“What’s wrong with my dress?” I ask petulantly, crossing my arms over my chest.
Jillian puffs out a frustrated breath. “Pey, this is Vegas!”
“Yeah, so?” I raise an eyebrow daring her to continue.
“So, you should let go of that schoolmarm-librarian look you’ve got going on.”
“I am a librarian,” I say defensively.
“I think what Jill is trying to say, is that this is your chance to let your hair down and be a little wild,” Tammy injects, playing referee.
“Exactly,” Jillian agrees. “I just think you should try something new. You are always so prim and proper. Plus, I sort of bought you a new dress or two for the weekend.”
She pulls a dress from the closet—at least I think it’s a dress—and Tammy produces a pair of heels that are so high I’ll probably break my neck if I try to walk in them. If I thought last night’s dress was bad, this is ten times worse. Jillian thrusts the dress into my hands and pushes me toward the bathroom. Knowing there really isn’t a point in arguing I let her have her way.
I shuck my old clothes and realizing the cut of the new dress doesn’t allow for a bra, I silently curse my sister. She is tall and svelte, whereas I am short with curves to spare so going without a bra isn’t something I can really do. I pull the offending garment over my head and get a small thrill as the silky material slides over my bare breasts. Wiggling my hips, I pull the dress over my ample hips and smooth it down.
Steeling myself, I turn and look in the mirror. My eyes widen as I take in my reflection. Gone is the dull brown hair and plain features. My hair is lustrous, falling down my back in soft waves. My makeup is understated, but the artful way it was applied makes my green eyes pop. My lashes are thick and full, setting off the brightness of my eyes perfectly. The one hint of dramatic color is my lips which are coated with cherry red lipstick. As if the makeover change isn’t enough, seeing the way the dress hugs my body is enough to drop my jaw.
I have to blink several times before convincing myself that the reflection in the mirror is truly me. In some ways, I look nothing like myself, but in others, I can see a me I never thought I could be. The me in the mirror is a confident, sexy Peyton. I silently wonder what Kingston will think of my makeover, but then I shake my head, scolding myself for thinking of him. I shouldn’t care what he thinks. I’m nothing to him. Last night was just a drunken mistake.
Temporary insanity.
Yes, that’s what it was—temporary insanity. We will get an annulment and things will go back to normal. He will keep treating me with indifference and I will keep pining for him from a distance. I almost have myself convinced, but then I have a flash of a memory from last night. It’s been happening all day, little pieces from the night come back to me and I question myself.
Was it really a mistake? Could Kingston really want me?
I close my eyes, allowing myself to fall into the memory and the feeling of his hands on my body. The sweet words he murmured as he thrust inside me. His mouth on my neck, my breasts, any and everywhere he could reach while he made love to me. And that’s what it felt like… my memory isn’t of hard fucking; it’s tender and loving.
With the soreness between my legs, I’m sure it wasn’t all sweet and slow like that, but for some reason, that’s the memory that keeps barging into my mind. The night’s still mostly a blur, but the way he touched me this morning—confident, possessive—has me confused. The mystery man that mastered my body and the man I know Kingston to be don’t line up.
The way he kissed me, my lips tingle at the mere thought. His lips both firm and soft at the same time as he possessed my mouth. He owned me with that kiss, no denying that. It was so easy to fall into the kiss—so easy to crave more. And lord help me, I do want more. I have to squeeze my thighs together to relieve the ache that’s grown exponentially worse as the day goes on. A knock on the door snaps me out of my fantasy and I take one more disbelieving look at myself in the mirror. I open the door and am met with squeals from both Tammy and Jillian.
“Oh. My. God. You look ah-mazing!” Jillian enthuses. “Seriously, so flipping hot. The guys will be all over you at the club.” She does some kind of hip thrust that I think is supposed to mimic dancing, but just looks ridiculous. Tammy and I share a look, then bust up laughing.
“If any guys come at me like that, I’m running the other way,” I say through giggles.
Tammy laughs even harder. Jillian tries to look offended but falls into peals of laughter herself. This is how it always is with us… I’ve always been super close with my sister even though she’s four years younger than me. When our mom died, we banded together and made it our mission to take care of each other a
nd our dad. Tammy lives in the apartment across the hall from mine and we hit it off right away, she seamlessly folded into our little group.
“Seriously though, do I look okay?” I ask, pulling the hem of the dress down nervously.
“You look hot, babe. The guys will be all over you,” Tammy says, then adds. “Hip thrusting optional.”
Jillian thrusts her hips at Tammy and we all laugh ourselves breathless.
My phone dings with a text from Theo.
Tell my wife-to-be that we are waiting downstairs.
“Time to go, the guys are downstairs waiting.”
“Why is he always texting you instead of me?” Jillian whines.
“Maybe because he knows that either you don’t have your ringer on, or you’ve forgotten your phone somewhere.”
Jillian gives a little harrumph in response, which makes me giggle because she knows I’m right.
Chapter Three
Kingston
This morning I woke up to a dream. Call me a pussy if you want, but I’ve wanted Peyton since the moment I laid eyes on her what feels like a lifetime ago. If I have to forfeit my man card because I’m over the moon at feeling her soft curves against my body, so be it. I knew she’d be hungover this morning, that stupid bartender fed her drinks left and right. I’m sure he thought he’d get her drunk and take her to bed, but I swooped in bursting that bubble quickly.
Peyton threw her arms around me and begged me to dance with her… well, she slurred something about dancing—either way, we ended up on the dance floor. Things started off innocent, but as the music changed from soft and slow to a pulsing beat, our dance changed too. Her ass found its home against my cock and her arms lifted over her head circling around my neck. I don’t know if she pulled me down, or if my brain short-circuited, but my lips found the curve of her shoulder. I licked and kissed her soft skin, then my hands moved from the safety of her hips around to her breasts. I plumped the soft mounds and teased her nipples into firm points as she ground that tight little ass against me.
Just Married Page 2
