by Mari Carr
Obviously she was more than tipsy. He grinned. Tipsy was just the way he wanted her for once. He pulled a map of the Las Vegas strip he’d bought at the airport out of his pocket and consulted it. When he found what he was looking for, he put his arm around her shoulders and urged her toward the taxi stand, where they were promptly ushered into a waiting vehicle.
“Aaron, where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he repeated, giving the driver the address and fighting to ignore the grin that crossed the older man’s face as he glanced at Riley.
“Good for you,” the man said, turning and pulling on to the street. As the taxi driver fought the Saturday evening traffic, Aaron took in the sights of the strip, overwhelmed and amazed by the bright lights. Vegas was quite a city and he was suddenly thankful he’d come. This was going to be a weekend to remember.
The driver pulled up in front of their destination. Aaron paid the driver before bending to help Riley out of the cab.
“Courthouse?” She glanced up at the nondescript building.
“We’ll need a marriage license before we hit the Elvis Wedding Chapel.”
“Elvis Wedding Chapel? What the hell are you talking about?” She stared at him and for a moment he thought she would balk at his suggestion, refuse him and storm away.
“We’re getting hitched.”
Riley laughed. “You and me?”
“Why not? We’ll just call it the ultimate Saturday Night Special.”
She paused for a moment, the alcohol fogging her mind nicely. She considered his proposal before shrugging playfully. Riley was the queen of Saturday Night Specials, the name she’d given to her evening off from work. It was the one night of the week when she usually got into a lot of trouble that he inevitably had to get her out of.
“Why not? We are in Vegas. Okay, come on! This story will be funny as shit when I tell everyone at home. Riley’s Saturday Night Special, Vegas-style!”
Riley was a born storyteller, one of the reasons he suspected she always attracted a crowd. She was entertaining and her stories were hilarious.
They bought the license, traveled to the chapel and said their “I dos” under the watchful eye of the Asian Elvis who married them. He serenaded them back out onto the street as Mr. and Mrs. Aaron Young to the tune of Love Me Tender while Riley giggled.
They returned to the hotel and scored a table at Fin, one of the Mirage’s trendy restaurants, despite their lack of reservations. While there, they consumed two bottles of champagne, toasting their long lives together and stuffing themselves on Chinese cuisine.
Finally, Aaron suggested they start the honeymoon. They staggered to Riley’s room, laughing the entire way, and he carried her over the threshold as Riley squealed with delight.
As he carried her to the bed, he was struck by the memory of carrying her to her bed the night of Teagan’s wedding. She’d had too much champagne that night too.
“You’re crazy,” she said with a giggle. “I can’t believe we just got married. Do you know what a pain in the ass this will be to untangle tomorrow when we’re sober?”
“It’ll work out.” He placed her on her feet by the bed, gripping her shoulders to keep her steady. She reached up and he was stunned to feel her fingers unbuttoning his shirt. While he wasn’t completely drunk, he couldn’t say he wasn’t enjoying the effects of the alcohol. A quick glance at Riley’s face confirmed she was extremely intoxicated. He stilled her hands as she reached for the last button.
“I can do that,” he said. “Let me help you.” He pulled her sweater over her head. Modesty had never been an issue for Riley. She didn’t possess any and she laughed again.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“How many times have you tucked me in?”
“A million,” he answered seriously.
“Yeah, a million.”
He helped her pull her jeans down. He’d seen her in her bra and panties many, many times before but this time it was different. She may not know it, but he did.
He drew back the sheets and she climbed in. This time, unlike the million times in the past, he didn’t leave. He tugged off his shirt and pants and crawled in beside her. His actions sent her into peals of laughter again.
“This is weird.”
“Not really.” He pressed a light kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Mrs. Young.”
She grinned, her eyes drooping. The alcohol was claiming her quickly. “Kiss me good night.”
“I just did.”
“No, really kiss me. You never have.”
She was right. A lifetime of friendship and he’d never kissed Riley Collins. He’d dreamed of it since puberty, but he’d never done it.
He leaned forward and brushed her lips lightly with his. It was enough for now. When he kissed her for real, she’d be sober, awake and aware.
She was asleep before he moved away and he grinned. The woman could fall asleep within seconds of putting her head on a pillow.
“Good night, wife,” he whispered, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close.
Chapter Two
“What the fuck?” Riley woke up disoriented and thirsty, and her head was pounding. All of that was pretty common for a Sunday morning. What was not common was a nearly naked Aaron spooning her in bed.
“Good morning, Riley,” he said, as if he didn’t have a concern in the world. As if there was no reason she should be freaking out. She wiggled a little, hoping to break free of his embrace, but stopped immediately when something hard brushed against her ass.
“What is that?” she asked when he chuckled. It was obvious he didn’t give a shit his cock was fully erect and nudging her lower regions through the thin cotton layer provided by his boxers.
“Somebody else’s way of saying good morning.”
She lifted the sheets an inch or two and glanced down, only mildly relieved to discover she was in her bra and panties. If they’d fooled around, she would have been naked, right? He wouldn’t have his boxers on. Right? Holy shit, please let that be right.
He pulled her back closer to his bare chest and she stiffened at the idea of being cuddled, in bed, by Aaron. That they’d hugged thousands of times in the past twenty years was inconsequential, especially considering that during those platonic embraces they’d always been dressed…and standing up.
“This is Las Vegas,” she mumbled, glancing around the hotel room.
“It sure is.”
“I thought I came to Vegas with Trevor.” She closed her eyes and tried to force her mushy brain to remember the previous evening. Hell, she’d be happy to remember the night before last.
That’s it. I’m never drinking again.
“You did come with Trev. I followed you.” Aaron’s grip on her waist tightened briefly before his hand moved, his fingers roaming suggestively on her stomach.
Oh shit. Aaron stroking her skin should not feel so good. Had he always been this muscular? This built? This sexy? His typically short black hair had gotten longer in the last few months, and she wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through it. She was suddenly having very impure thoughts about her best friend. She forced herself to ignore his touches as she tried to remember what he’d said.
“Why did you follow me?”
“I was worried about you, Riley. You took off with Trevor. He’s not exactly known for his intellect or sobriety.”
“Where is Trev?” She prayed he wasn’t in the room as well.
“Last time I saw him, he was heading for a hotel room with some hooker named Bella.”
“Riiiiight.” She dragged out the word, trying to recall if she’d actually met this Bella chick.
“You don’t remember that?” His hand paused an inch above her panty line and she was two seconds away from suggesting he move it just a bit farther south. She loved morning sex.
Fuck! This is Aaron. Stop it, Riley.
“I don’t remember the hooker,” she admitted.
“What d
o you remember?”
She took a deep breath and forced herself to roll to her back. She needed to see his face, wanted to read his expressions in some vain hope of figuring out what the hell was going on. He allowed her to turn but his hand never left her body. She tried to calm her racing heart at the feeling of his palm resting against her bare skin.
“I remember landing in Vegas and hitting the strip. There were these blue drinks at a bar. After that, it gets kinda hazy.”
“Blue drinks?” he asked, his chocolate-brown eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
“You weren’t there for those?”
He shook his head, unconcerned. “I must have missed the blue drinks. I made it in time for the good stuff though.”
His sleep-tousled hair sent her body into overdrive, as did his husky morning voice. Christ, she was totally attracted to him.
To Aaron.
Maybe she was still drunk and the alcohol was affecting her brain. His hand started to caress her stomach again and she brought hers down quickly to halt his movements.
Time to bite the bullet. Ask the most important question.
“Why are you in bed with me?”
Aaron grinned. “Where else would I be?”
“Ordinarily I would say at home, cussing me and my wild schemes. But at the very least, given that we’re not in Baltimore, you should be in your own hotel room.”
He chuckled. “Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about your wild schemes anymore—or the separate hotel rooms.”
“Why is that?” A strong sense of impending trouble suffused her as she asked the question. Some part of her knew instinctively she didn’t want to hear the answer.
He lifted her left hand up with his and pointed to a thick silver band on her ring finger.
“What the fuck is that?”
“Your wedding ring. We’re married.”
“The hell we are!”
He shrugged off her heated denial with a good-natured smile and her arousal vanished in an instant, replaced by the need to hit something or someone. She narrowed her eyes, wondering what it would feel like to punch him in the stomach. No doubt that would shrink Mr. Happy back to a manageable size. As it was, she was finding it very difficult to think with his cock poking her in the hip with every breath she took.
“Can’t you put that thing away?” she yelled, pointing at his hard-on.
“Away…or in?”
She gasped at the thought. “I have to get out of here.” She started to rise but Aaron quite efficiently managed to stop her, moving over her and pinning her to the bed with his hips and hands. She was completely trapped, surrounded by his hard flesh.
“No more running away, Riley.”
She placed her palms against his chest, intending to shove him off, but his words halted her actions. “What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t run away.”
“All you do is run. You aren’t going to escape this so easily.”
She tried to assimilate this man, this Aaron, with the man who’d been her gentle best friend for over two decades. “Escape what?”
“Our marriage.” He punctuated his words with a slow, firm thrust of his erection against the vee of her legs.
“We aren’t married.”
He grinned. “We are very, very married. I have the marriage license and the DVD to prove it.”
“DVD?”
“I figured some of the details might be hazy for you. Besides, it’s a nice keepsake. Something we can show our kids.”
“Okay, that’s it.” She pushed against his chest, desperate to break free of his overwhelming presence. She’d never felt so thoroughly surrounded. “You’re going to have to shut the hell up. If we did get married, I was drunk and it was a mistake. One we can take care of if you would just let me up.” When he failed to budge, her shoves turned to slaps. “Get off me!”
He shook his head and lowered until he was supporting his upper body with his elbows, rather than his hands. His chest crushed her breasts and his lips were less than an inch from hers. She felt a slight tremor rumble through her. She wanted to believe it was based on fear, but she was pretty sure it had everything in the world to do with arousal. He was pushing all her hot buttons with this caveman posturing.
Aaron had never taken charge of any aspect of their friendship, content to let her lead the way in all things. Feeling his power over her sent a rush of heat to every part of her body.
His eyes narrowed angrily and she felt a strange sense of pleasure at having knocked some of the damn annoying happiness out of him. “Our marriage was not a mistake and I don’t ever want to hear you say that again.”
She closed her eyes, his breath hot on her cheek. It was taking every ounce of strength in her body not to move her lips the little baby inch it would take to touch his. “Please be reasonable,” she said. “This can’t work.”
“Why not?”
She sighed. “We’re too different.”
“That hasn’t stopped us from being friends—best friends—for over twenty years.”
“There’s a helluva lot more to marriage than just friendship, sugar.” The moment the words crossed her lips, she knew she’d made a mistake.
“That’s right. There is.” He pressed his cock against her suddenly damp panties again. Jesus, she wished he’d stop doing that. It was all she could do not to invite him in and damn the cost.
“You know, you’re coming very close to losing that thing.” She wished the threat didn’t sound so weak.
“I wouldn’t mind losing it for a while—inside you.”
“Ugh.”
He laughed at her feigned disgust. “Last night you begged me to kiss you good night.”
“I was drunk.”
He moved forward slowly until their noses nearly touched. “Don’t you want to know about the kiss?”
“No, and you shouldn’t be bragging about taking advantage of an intoxicated woman. If my brothers were here, they’d kick your ass.”
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with kissing a woman if she’s your wife and it’s your honeymoon.”
“Oh shit. We had sex, didn’t we?” She racked her brain, trying to recall some small part of the previous night. How could she sleep with her best friend and not remember it?
Aaron started to move his hips, rubbing his cock suggestively against her covered pussy. She fought to ignore how good it felt. He leaned closer, his breath scorching her cheek as his lips moved toward her ear. “No,” he whispered. “We didn’t have sex.”
Relief claimed her, but it was short-lived when his fingers twined in her hair and he directed her face toward his.
“And I still owe you the kiss,” he murmured a moment before his lips claimed hers.
Christ, claimed was right. Riley had never been kissed so passionately in her life. Aaron’s mouth moved over hers, demanding, taking, possessing. He pushed her lips apart, his tongue plunging into her mouth to explore. His fingers tightened around her curls, controlling her movements, putting her where he wanted her. Her brain wanted to resist but it was powerless to control her hyper-aroused body. The kiss seemed to last for hours and for a moment, Riley considered the fact she’d wasted years of her life kissing assholes while this champion kisser was standing next to her all along.
When Aaron finally pulled back, she was surprised to discover her hands were wrapped around his neck, holding him to her.
“Fuck.” She’d never felt so confused; so conflicted and torn. This was Aaron. This was wrong.
“Okay,” he said, and she laughed. She couldn’t help it. His goofy, good-natured attitude always managed to cheer her up.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Does that mean we can have sex?” he asked.
“Can we wait until my hangover goes away? I really can’t think straight right now.”
He nodded, placing a quick kiss on the end of her nose. He moved back to her side, pulling her until her head rested on his bare chest. She wasn’t used to
him being so controlling. She wished it wasn’t turning her on so much.
“Maybe we should get up,” she suggested, even though she didn’t move. Her head hurt too badly. Besides, she was comfy and warm.
“Not yet,” he said. “Just rest awhile.”
They lay in companionable silence for several minutes and Riley had just about let the slow pounding of his heart lure her back to sleep when there was a knock at the door.
“Ignore it,” she said sleepily. “Maybe they’ll go away.”
Aaron gently moved her aside and stood up. “I don’t think you want me to ignore this visitor.”
“Aaron, I’m half naked and hung over. Believe me, there is no one I want to see.” She pulled the covers over her head as he yanked on his jeans and walked to the door.
She listened from under the blanket as he spoke to someone. She couldn’t make out what was said, but she heard Aaron say thanks and shut the door again. She lowered the covers a little bit to peer out, surprised to find him holding a McDonald’s bag for her to see.
She sat up quickly, grabbing her head as her too-fast movement sent a sharp pain through her temple. “Ouch. Damn head. Is that what I think it is?”
“If you think it’s one Riley Collins Hangover Cure, then yep, it’s what you think.”
“How the hell did you get McDonald’s delivered through room service?”
“It’s Vegas. You can get anything if you’re willing to pay. I bribed one of the bellhops last night when we got in. Promised him a big tip if he would pick it up and deliver it.”
He handed her the bag and she pulled out the still-warm hash brown, holding it as if it were a precious treasure. “Manna from heaven.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
She looked up, delighted when he pulled a drink from behind his back.
“Diet Coke?” she asked.
“Would I get you anything else?”
“Oh, Aaron, you are too good to me.”
He laughed. “You’re an easy woman to please. Couple of hash browns and a soda.”
“No better food on earth the day after a long party. I can’t believe you went to so much trouble.”
