by Misti Murphy
I don’t know how many times we’ve had sex tonight. Can’t keep them straight, but my body is on fire like never before. From the moment we met there was something about him that couldn’t be ignored. “You like me like this, Mr. Casey?”
“Like isn’t the word I would use.” He growls as he tugs me to the edge of the glass, pressing his naked hardness against my seam. His thumb dips into my entrance and then slides up between my ass cheeks to press against my asshole. “I’m going to fuck you everywhere. That is, if you’ll let me.”
I let out a low moan, dropping my head as he massages some of my wetness into that area. I’ve never been touched there, never thought I’d want to be. A deep ache starts inside me when he slips two fingers into my entrance and his thumb digs in that little bit deeper, and maybe yes, I want him to fuck me where no one else has before. I’m shaking, breathless, on the verge of yet another orgasm. “I’ve never…” He does something with his thumb inside me that has me seeing stars. “Oh God, please.”
“Mrs. Casey,” he says, smearing my wetness from my pussy to my asshole, before replacing his thumb with two fingers. “My beautiful wife, I’m going to take very good care of you.”
“Morning, wifey.” A rough, masculine voice, that’s a little woken up scratchy, breaks through my memory.
I swing my hands down across my butt in a protective motion, placing them one over the other behind me, though it’s apparently far too late. Did I really let him fuck me up the…? No. No way. Just no. I wouldn’t do that. Would I? And wifey? Did we get…? Not just engaged to a stranger, but married? I wouldn’t let him stick his cock in my ass and m-marry him too. Would I? That’s crazy. That’s two out of my big three never-ever-will-I’s right there. Turning around, I find him watching my hands with a smirk on his face. “H-hello.”
“Come back to bed.” He pats the mattress beside him invitingly, those sexy blues drifting from my arms to my face, and everywhere in between. They are way too familiar. Friendly and bold.
“No, I’ll just…” I glance around the hotel room. What was I wearing last night?
“Your dress is there.” He nods at the chair closest to the bed, where a white lace garment is draped over the arm.
“Thank you.” I walk over and snatch it up. Of course it’s white, and absolutely not what I started the night in. I pull it on over my head and lo and behold I can see my underwear through it. When we arrived, I’d been wearing a blue dress, not this... mockery of a wedding dress.
Mr. Casey doesn’t seem to mind though, if the way his mouth turns up even more on one side is anything to go by. Without taking his eyes off me, he sits up further and scrubs a big hand through his hair. The action doesn’t do a damn thing to make it any less messy perfect. “Are you hungry? You must be hungry. I can order room service.”
“Actually.” I find my heels, again white, tucked under the edge of the bed and slip them onto my feet. “I was going to go get coffee. I have to find out what happened to my friend.”
“Liv, right?” He climbs off the bed and prowls toward the bathroom, the muscles in his back rippling as he stretches his arms out to the side and over his head. His ass belongs to Adonis, chiselled from rock, and when he moves, his muscles are as fluid as my mouth right now.
I wipe the back of my hand across my chin just in case, but thankfully it comes away dry. “Yes.”
I don’t know if that yes is in answer to him asking if she’s my friend, or if that’s my name, or if I want him to pound me into the mattress again. I slowly back toward the door.
“Lovely woman, that friend of yours.” He turns around.
I will not glance down. I will not let my gaze wander. Oh look, a penis. A huge at half-mast erection that’s been intimately acquainted with my butt. How does my ass not hurt after that?
“You’ll probably find her in her hotel room. She had a little too much champagne before we walked her back to her room.”
“Oh.” I don’t remember that. Unsurprising with everything else I’ve forgotten. I back toward the door. “Well, I should go and—”
“Give me five minutes to shower and dress and I’ll come with you.”
“Uh. That’s quite all right.”
“Just let me put my pants on then.” He glances around.
“In the bathroom,” I say.
“Thanks.” He smiles. “I’ll literally be a minute.”
“No. I...” I have to get out of here and away from him, no matter how sweet he is and how clearly attracted I am to him. Married? This is crazy. “How about I get coffee, grab Liv, and then we’ll come back here?”
“I could use a shower.” He looks longingly in the direction of the bathroom.
“Good. Great. I mean yes, that’s a good idea. Last night was whew, so...” I find the door with my back, search out the door knob while I wave one hand in front of my face and almost moan over what I can recall. Dirty hussy.
“You should join me.” His teeth are movie star white when he grins.
“Tempting.” I mean it too. And this time I’d remember it all. It’s not like it’d be wrong either since we’re apparently married. God, I have to get out of here. “Very tempting. But I should check on Liv. I’ll only be a little while.”
“Hurry back, then,” he says, heading for the bathroom. “Can’t wait to spend the day with you, Mrs. Casey.”
“M-me too. I mean with you.” I grapple with the knob and almost bang my head into the edge of the door as I yank it open. There’s no way I am coming back to this room. There is no chance I’m spending the day with this guy. How the hell did we end up married?
Stepping into the hallway, I close the door and breathe deeply for the first time since I woke in this nightmare. The only thing I can do right now is continue what my brain started and forget last night ever happened. In fact, it’s probably best if it’s never mentioned again. Right?
CHAPTER TWO
Marriage is a compromise.
One person pretends that their drunk wedding never happened, and everyone is happy.
Until they come across the other in a bar.
Oh shit! Here we go again.
Beck
Of all the hotels in all the world why did we had to end up in this one? I’ve only just sat down opposite Liv at one of the tables when I spot the man at the bar. Cold sweat breaks out across my brow, and the nape of my neck. Even my pits get in on the action. I press my palm to my chest. My heart palpitates. Although it’s been almost two years since I’ve seen him and though I can’t recall everything from that night in Vegas, I can’t forget his face with its neat brown scruff and that perfect messy hair. It’s branded on my brain. “Oh God, we need to leave.”
“What?” Liv glances up, closing her Mac and popping it into her bag. “We just got here.”
“I know, but—”
“And after looking at the numbers, I need a drink. Or three.” She props an elbow on the table. This small boutique hotel is her latest acquisition. The last in a long list of hotels she’s added to her chain these past five years. “Reverence might not be big city, but there’s so much potential here. The last owner obviously had no idea how to run a business. They barely turned a profit in the last fiscal year.” She already has a cocktail on the table, but she raises her arm to grab the bartender’s attention. “It’s going to take me at least three months to make sure everything is running exactly the way I want it. To train the staff. A place like this—”
Lunging across the table, I grab her hand and pull it back to the wooden surface. “Don’t.”
“What’s gotten into you, Beck? You’re acting neurotic.” Her perfectly styled eyebrows draw together, making her forehead furrow. “I thought you wanted to come here too. Didn’t you want to do a piece on that old studio where Sophie Valentine started out for the blog?”
“Yes, but that was before I realized…” I clamp my mouth shut and peek over her shoulder. The guy still hasn’t noticed us. He’s too busy talking to the man beside
him. We can probably get out of here without my bad decisions coming to a head.
“Realized what, Beck?” Liv asks. Her jaw sets with impatience.
Crap. She’s not going to let this go without an answer. “There’s a guy.”
“Oh, stop.” She shakes her head, smiling as she does. “That won’t wash with me. Since when has a guy ever fazed you?”
I take a deep breath. There’s only one thing for it. I plunge in. “He’smyhusband.”
“What? I didn’t quite catch that.”
I take another breath and try again. Slower. “He’s my husband.”
“Hold up.” She stares at me. “For a second I thought you said husband, but I know I must be imagining it because you would never—”
“He’s my husband,” I admit, hanging my head.
“Wait? You’re serious?” Liv bows over the table. “You have a husband?”
“Yes,” I whisper, leaning in too. I have the urge to close her mouth. I bet there’d be an audible snap when her lips meet.
“Hold on. That would mean you’re married, and I know that can’t be, because I would have known. I’m your best friend. There’s no way you would have gotten...”
“Married,” I squeak.
“Right. You would have told me if you were getting married. I would have been in your bridal party. This is a joke? You’re not actually married, right?”
“Well.” I cringe.
“Oh my God,” she exclaims. “How could you not tell me this? I don’t even... I can’t even... and he’s here?” She wriggles in her seat, scanning the face of every guy in this hotel bar. “Oh. Is it that one?” She points at the dark haired, friendly faced guy working the bar.
“No, it’s not the bartender. He’s a little young, isn’t he?” Trust Liv to search out the guy most likely to be her type.
“He’s hot,” she responds, taking her time to ogle him before moving on. “How about that one? Ooooh.” She lets out a low whistle. “I know which one.”
She points at the two men sitting at the end of the bar as the man in question gets up and heads for the restrooms off to the side. “The one that looks like a rock god, right? Those arms...it has to be him.”
“They’re just arms.” I sit back and start to join the beads of condensation on her glass together as a distraction. Swoon-worthy arms that held me close while he fucked me on our wedding night. On the bathroom counter, in the shower, against the wall, on the coffee table, in the bed. Those arms are attached to big strong hands that have their own porno reel in my head, and that’s only what I did manage to remember. Who knows what I forgot.
“Uh-huh,” she says. “And Will Smith is just an actor, you dirty deviant. Bet you didn’t even get his name before you felt him up.”
“Of course I did.”
“Well that makes everything better.” She chuckles. “What is his name anyway?”
“I don’t know.” My face gets hot, and there’s no way I’m making eye contact with her. “Ox, or Jax, or Nox maybe. We were drunk.”
“You married a guy without getting his name?” Her eyes bug out of her head like a cartoon character. “How? When?”
“Two years ago, almost. That trip we took to Vegas, after Claude. You remember?”
“Of course I remember.” For a second she looks a little sad, but then she focuses on me. “I don’t remember you getting married or being introduced to this hunky husband of yours. Though now that I think about it, I do recall you acting rather oddly on the flight home. And then for months afterward.” She trails off, deep in thought. “Is that why you took that entire month off from all alcohol? And why you’ve had less than no action since Vegas? It is, isn’t it?”
“It was a huge mistake. I didn’t even know him. It should never have happened.” I take a deep breath. “But it wasn’t because of him. I realized I needed a break from being a party girl,” I sputter. “And I did get his name. Or at least his last name. He kept calling me Mrs. Casey.”
“Beck Casey? That’s where your byline came from. You sure did get his last name.” She laughs. “I like it.”
“That’s not the point. It’s not even a thing. What do I do now? We have to get out of here before he sees me.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re still married, Liv. It’s weird.”
“You didn’t get it annulled?”
“I didn’t think it would matter. Figured he’d do it. And it’s not like I’m ever going to get married again. To a stranger or otherwise. You know how I feel about marriage.”
“Sure, sweetie. It’s a perfectly acceptable thing to do for anybody else, or when you’re drunk, apparently. But most people who make that kind of mistake deal with it as soon as they’re sober.”
“Well, I didn’t.” I groan.
“And he didn’t.” She glances over her shoulder, though he hasn’t returned yet, with that same look she usually gets when she thinks she’s onto some brilliant idea.
“Liv, whatever you’re scheming, don’t.”
“I’m not scheming anything.” She smiles a Cheshire cat smile while she toys with the straw in her drink. She takes it out of her glass and sets it on a napkin before picking up the martini glass. The contents are pink and smell like peaches and vodka. “But why do you suppose neither of you did anything to void the marriage? A man like him... single, and not trying to annul your wedding vows. Unless he hasn’t been able to forget you and your smoking hot body.” She reaches across the table to pinch the flesh over my ribs. “Those impure deeds you engaged in on your wedding night.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case. It was one night.” I squirm to get away from her hand. So what if it was one perfect night that left me wondering for months whether I should have stayed the next morning instead of running? At least long enough to experience him sober. It was like my body was wracked with withdrawals through those subsequent long, hot nights. But one night was where it ended, and where it should have stayed. Even if seeing him again makes my heart beat loudly. Of course that could also be the mid-level panic setting in. “And he probably isn’t single. You can’t assume that.”
“Of course I can. And he is. There’s not a woman in her right mind who would let that one sit for long without a lock on his finger. If he hasn’t asked for an annulment, then he’s single. Trust me.”
“Whatever. I don’t care. It was a mistake. Don’t get any ideas.”
“Oh no no no. I wouldn’t dream of it. Of course I wouldn’t get involved in this.”
It’s too late. The cogs are turning inside her head. “We should go.”
“Sure,” she says, picking up her purse as she climbs out of her chair. “I want to tip the cute bartender for doing such a good job.”
“Uh-huh.” I fold my arms against my chest. As if that’s what she wants to do.
“And by tip, I mean give him my room number. Might as well have fun while we’re living here.” She wiggles her eyebrows before sashaying away.
Leaning on the bar, one pointed, red-bottomed heel in the air, she says something to the cute young bartender and he hands her a pen and a napkin. Within a few moments, she’s written on it and waving it in my direction so that I can see the huge 108. Her room number, not some secret plan to make my life difficult. Phew.
It’s okay. It’s fine. Just breathe. The guy I accidentally married, ran out on, and then didn’t bother to make not my husband isn’t even in the room. I’m practically home free. All I have to do is get out of my seat once Liv heads back in my direction and leave the bar. Simple. And she’s coming this way.
I push my chair back and stand up, gripping the strap of my handbag as I move it onto my shoulder. I’m out of here. The Road Runner couldn’t catch me now.
“Oh shit,” I whisper as I come face to face with him. Not the Road Runner. My husband. Damn, he’s gorgeous up close, and he smells like oranges and lumber. It’s not unbelievable that a woman might be inclined to marry him while intoxicated. It’s quite pl
ausible any woman might lose her mind along with her knickers when faced with him. Even dressed in faded, scuffed denim and a checked flannel shirt he has a presence that makes everything else background noise. But I’m not like those other girls. I know better. Love, relationships, marriage are all a boozy cocktail of hormones and chemicals and pheromones.
“Honey.” He rubs a hand over the beard that covers his jaw before he smiles. It doesn’t reach his brooding gaze like it did that morning I ran out on him. “You’re home.”
“I...” don’t know what to say. Nothing seems fitting. I can’t form words anyway.
“Mr. Casey.” Liv pushes in front of me, all smiles. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s lovely to finally meet you.”
“We met,” he says in a friendly voice, though his gaze stays on me. “But it was a crazy night.” Finally he drops his attention to Liv and takes her hand. “It’s nice to see you again.”
I take a breath, willing my pulse to slow down. Mid-level panic meets full-blown freak out.
“Apparently we all had far too good a time.” Liv takes over the conversation, giving me a moment to catch my breath. “I can’t say I recall much of that weekend. I do remember finding a stripper in my bathtub though.”
“You must have had one hell of a party after we left you.” He chuckles.
“Do you live here, Mr. Casey?”
He gives me a funny look. “It’s Nox, and yes I do. Have all my life.”
Nox. “Is that short for something?” I ask.
“Lennox.”
Means trees, or something to do with trees. Suits him. Even his smell.
“I bought this hotel,” Liv says. “Thought I should come and see the property for myself. We’re staying for a few months it seems. I’m looking forward to becoming acquainted with your town.”
“Do you want to get an annulment?” I blurt, snagging their full attention. Okay, it wasn’t my first thought. I almost asked if he wanted to get a room. There’s just something about the man, and I haven’t been with anyone since him because married is married, and also, I learned my freaking lesson in Vegas. Which is why ‘a room’ became ‘an annulment’. “Or at least we should talk about it.”
