by Blake Wilder
Either way, I managed to get her into a taxi before she could continue resisting.
“Nearest wedding chapel,” I said to the driver, who grinned in the rearview mirror.
“Nice,” the guy said.
“Alex. You can’t be serious about this.”
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.” And I hadn’t. The second I’d heard Charley talk about her dream wedding, I had this inexplicable feeling, this urge to be the one to give it to her. Of course, I hadn’t intended to act on it until she’d looked in Ben’s direction and I realized she was actually thinking about the fucker fondly.
I didn’t like that look. Didn’t want her backsliding to the dick.
Didn’t want her with anybody…but me.
I wasn’t used to feeling jealous or possessive, but there was no way I could deny that was a big part of what prompted this trip through the city. After all, Charley had just wasted three years of her life with the wrong guy. Least I could do—as a friend—was give her the wedding of her dreams, give her a chance to live out the fantasy for one night.
“So…what…this is just like a dare or something?” While I was feeling no pain thanks to the liquor, Charley was even farther gone. She was really struggling to wrap her head around what we were doing.
Which only played into the Vegas eloping cliché even more.
I grinned. “We’re in Vegas, Charley. It’s an adventure. I’m giving you your dream wedding.”
She rolled her eyes, swaying slightly in the seat as she did so. “It’s not just the damn wedding, Alex. You’re forgetting the important parts—the vows, the future, the forever.”
She rattled off three of the most terrifying words in the history of language. And for the first time in my life, not one of them felt scary.
I blew out a long breath as I tried to figure out what that meant.
“Alex,” she prompted.
“I’m not forgetting anything, Charley.”
She frowned, chewing on that in silence until the cab slid to a halt in front of a small chapel. I was kind of chewing on it too. I’d really only thought this plan through until we wrapped up the honeymoon sex…hopefully in a week or three.
After that…
“Here we are. This one look okay?” the taxi driver asked.
I glanced out at the small, quaint, rustic-looking chapel. “What do you think?” I asked Charley, who’d mentioned cheesy. This place didn’t seem to fit that bill. “Want Elvis instead?”
She smiled and shook her head. “No. This is sort of perfect.”
I paid the guy, then took Charley’s hand and led her inside. She’d become surprisingly complacent, but I wasn’t sure if that was because of the tequila or if I’d convinced her to treat the night like a fun adventure.
Or…those three words drifted through my mind again.
Vows. Future. Forever.
I brushed them aside for three more appropriate words.
Adventure, lark, honeymoon sex.
Wait. That was four.
“Hello.” A perky, balding man in a cheap suit greeted us as we entered. “Welcome to the Chapel of…hey, you’re Alex Stone!”
I smiled, used to being recognized. “You must be a hockey fan. My favorite kind of people.”
“Well, I have to admit,” the man said, “I gotta remain true to my Knights, but you were unbelievable in that last…”
Yep. That was about as far as most people got before they remembered I fucked up and lost my team the game.
“Thanks. And I won’t hold your allegiance to the home team against you,” I joked, letting the guy off the hook. For the first time since getting knocked out of the Stanley Cup race, I didn’t want to crawl into the nearest bottle of whiskey to drink it all away. Probably because I’d already reached the bottom of the tequila bottle.
The man grinned, then reached for a piece of paper and a pen. “You think I could get an autograph?”
“Sure.” I signed my name on the paper, then tugged Charley, who was looking around the lobby and peering through double doors that led to a small chapel, closer to me, drawing her into the conversation. “Guess you know why we’re here.”
The man smiled, his attention turning to Charley. No doubt he was curious to see what sort of woman had managed to drag me to a Vegas wedding chapel. That same unfamiliar feeling of jealousy surfaced when the other man’s eyes widened appreciatively. I released Charley’s hand, opting instead to wrap my arm around her waist. It felt like a bigger claim.
The man glanced back at me. “Of course, Mr. Stone. Do you have the marriage license?”
Fuck.
“Actually, we don’t.”
“Forgot about the marriage license.” Charley wiggled out of my grip. “Sounds like we’re outta luck.” She shrugged it off good-naturedly. “Don’t worry. We gave spontaneity the college try.”
I smiled at her, perfectly aware it was a wolfish look. Her eyes widened slightly.
If there was one thing I’d learned during my time in the NHL, it was that money talked.
“Mr.?” I prompted.
“Davis. Peter Davis,” the man replied.
“Mr. Davis. My girl, Charley, has her heart set on eloping in your fine city. I promise I can make it worth your while if you could find a way to help us get married tonight. Hockey tickets to the Knights opening game when the season kicks off again. Maybe front row, behind the goal? Or club seats?”
“You could do that?”
I nodded. “And, of course, I’m willing to pay for your extra efforts on our behalf. Substantially extra.”
Mr. Davis fell silent for a moment, then said, “Let me make a few calls. In the meantime,” he turned toward an open door behind the counter. “Dolores,” he called out.
An older woman emerged, her eyes lighting up in a way that felt very rehearsed when she saw us.
“Mr. Stone and Charley…”
“Matthews,” I supplied.
“Ms. Matthews,” he continued, “have come to get married. I need to make a few phone calls. Perhaps you can see if they need anything else.” Mr. Davis looked back at me. “Like rings? Flowers? Pictures? Limo?”
I nodded. “We need all that.”
The man’s eyes lit up. “Very well.” Mr. Davis nodded at Dolores, who pulled a tray of wedding bands out of the glass cabinet, built into the counter, before he left the lobby, presumably to go to his office.
“Now, dear,” Dolores said. “What size is your ring finger?”
Charley glanced at me. “Is that something I should know?”
I laughed, figuring my sister knew exactly what size every finger on her hand was. Bella was never without countless rings. Hell, she even had a couple she wore on her thumb. I lifted Charley’s hand, taking in her bare fingers. Not a single ring.
I liked that. Meant the one I was about to put there would stand out.
Studying the tray of rings, I pointed to a thick gold band. “That one’s pretty.”
“That one’s expensive,” Charley murmured. “Maybe we should downsize considering…” She launched into pig Latin. “It'syay ustjay ayay okejay.”
Our hockey team had perfected the use of pig Latin when they were all freshmen and sophomores in high school. I hadn’t used it since then, but damn if I couldn’t understand every word she’d just said.
“I never skimp on my jokes. Oryay adventuresyay.” I pointed to the expensive one again. “It’s that one.”
Dolores measured Charley’s finger, then found the appropriate size. “That’s a wonderful choice.”
“And I’ll have that one,” I said, pointing to the tray again. “Size ten.”
“You know your ring size?” Charley asked.
“Yeah.”
My resigned tone must have given me away, reminded her that I’d been pretty damn close to getting a Stanley Cup ring. Looked like I’d be using that finger for a different ring tonight.
“Oops,” she said, giving me the mos
t adorable, regretful grin.
Dolores walked us through the photography packages, then set up a stretch limo, complete with champagne, to take us on a nighttime drive through the city before dropping us back off at the hotel.
“Now then…the bouquet,” Dolores said. “We keep quite a few here. They’re fresh-cut flowers that are brought in daily. I have one with pink roses that’s absolutely beautiful.”
I remembered Charley turning her nose up at the idea of carrying what she called “froufrou” flowers. She didn’t strike me as a roses kind of woman.
“What’s your favorite flower?” I asked her.
“Um…daisies?”
“Are you asking me if that’s your favorite or telling me?”
She shot me an annoyed look. “Daisies,” she repeated with more assurance.
“You have any bouquets with daisies in them?”
Dolores nodded. “Of course. If you don’t mind waiting here, I’ll get the rings and bouquet ready. Then, once Mr. Davis returns, we can begin.” She stepped through the back door.
“Are we seriously doing th—” she started.
I kissed her. A long, open-mouth one with a lot of tongue. Charley might not be all in on the wedding idea yet, but she was sure as fuck down with the kissing.
I pulled away after a minute, reluctantly. Charley was a good kisser.
“We’re getting married.”
She sighed. “This is going to be a huge mess to fix come tomorrow.”
“No. It won’t.”
“Alex. If Mr. Davis gets that license, we will legally be married. That means we’ll have to legally undo it.”
I shrugged. “I have a great lawyer.”
She laughed. “Jesus. Doesn’t that seem like a lot of hassle, not to mention money, to go through just for a night of impulsive fun.”
“If that was what this was about, we wouldn’t be here.”
Charley frowned. “Then what’s it about?” Before I could answer, Charley did. “This is because of Bella, isn’t it? Because of what she said about you never falling in love. Believe me, Alex, this isn’t going to change anything as far as—”
“That’s not it either,” I interrupted, though in truth, I wasn’t sure that was entirely true. Until Bella called me out on it, it hadn’t really occurred to me that I’d been putting love into the same bucket as marriage, tossing them both aside.
Then I realized what I’d felt the other night, coming home to an empty house, after the most devastating loss of my life.
It hadn’t been depression.
It had been loneliness.
“Alex?” Charley waved her hand in front of my face. “How drunk are you?”
I brushed off her question. I was very drunk, hence all the bullshit thoughts running through my head. Time to get the night back on track. “We’re here because of you.”
“Me?”
“I felt like shit when I got here, pretty sure the weekend was going to be more of the same. A bunch of people trying to commiserate with me, trying to make me feel better after blowing the game of a lifetime.”
“Not to mention being forced to take your sister’s best friend to the reception…the ultimate pity date.”
“Only person I pity is Ben. Fucker didn’t realize what he had and now it’s too late for him.”
She tried to brush off my compliment, something she’d been doing all night. Which reminded me…
I recalled her reaction to my warning earlier, and my cock thickened.
“If you give me that look one more time when I say something nice to you, I’m going to bend you over the nearest surface and spank that cute little ass of yours.”
Charley gasped, a soft sound, followed by a whispered “damn.” Her arousal was almost tangible and it fueled mine. Not sure I’d ever gotten a hard-on so quick. Suddenly I was looking around the chapel for just such a surface.
She laughed quietly, cupping my cheek affectionately. “Hold that thought for later,” she whispered.
“I don’t know how you did it, Charley, but in one night, you took away every bad feeling—all the stress, regret, anger, sadness.”
Loneliness.
“Are you sure that wasn’t the tequila?” she joked.
I grinned, even as I shook my head. “You never learn, do you?” I backed her against the nearest wall, kissing her hard, gripping one of her breasts in my hand, squeezing it, pinching her tight nipple through her dress until she moaned.
Visions of Charley as a kid flashed through my mind. Of her skating across the ice, slapping the puck into the net, cross-checking guys who were twice her size into the boards. She played hard, rough, with passion, holding nothing back.
I’d bet my entire salary she’d play just as hard in bed. I squeezed her breast harder. “When we get back to the hotel, I’m stripping you out of this dress, bending you over my bed and fucking you senseless, pounding inside that tight pussy of yours until you come a half dozen times, until neither one of us can see straight.”
“Yes,” she hissed.
“And then…I’m gonna get serious about it.”
Charley blinked several times, her breathing as labored as mine when I pushed away from her. Too much more of this and we were both in danger of being arrested for public indecency. Because God knew I was two seconds away from doing exactly what I’d promised her, right here in the lobby of this Vegas chapel.
“I’m marrying you, Charley Matthews, because you showed me how to be happy again. And I want to give you the same thing.”
“For one night?”
I nodded slowly, certain yes was the right answer to that question, even though it felt wrong.
Mr. Davis reappeared. “Good news, Mr. Stone.”
I took a step away from Charley, trying to pull myself together enough to do this next part.
I hadn’t lied. I wanted to give Charley the wedding of her dreams tonight.
And if that was all there was to it, I wouldn’t be standing in the chapel feeling like I’d just taken a hard right cross to the jaw.
But that wasn’t all I wanted to give her.
I wanted to give her three words.
Vows. Future. Forever.
Fuck.
Eight
Charley
I giggled when we stepped off the elevator and Alex bent down to pick me up.
“Alex!” I clung to his shoulders as he carried me to the door of his hotel suite. My head was swimming from the tequila at the reception and the bottle of champagne we’d just split in the limo. There was no way I wouldn’t have the mother of all hangovers tomorrow.
Regardless of that…all I could think was “Oh my God…he’s carrying me!”
“This Vegas wedding comes with all the bells and whistles,” he said, juggling me a bit as he swiped his keycard over the pad and unlocked the door. “Including the threshold.”
He carried me into the room and I nuzzled my face against his neck, loving the smell of him.
“I’m more interested in the honeymoon part of the package,” I murmured, desperate for sex.
I’d never been an overly sexed person. Something I’d just chalked up to my genetic makeup.
Yet another way I’d failed to see how wrong Ben was for me. There wasn’t a goddamn thing wrong with my libido. What had been wrong was the man.
Alex didn’t put me down, didn’t stop walking, carrying me right through the living room to his bedroom. Then he tossed me on the bed. I laughed for a second, thinking his actions a joke. My humor was short-lived when he followed me down, caging me underneath him, kissing me, running his hands through my hair, gripping it, pulling it until my scalp stung.
Oh yeah. Game on.
I loosened Alex’s tie, pulling it off. I started to toss it to the floor, but he took it from me. Gripping my hands, he looped the soft silk around my wrists, holding them together above my head.
“I’m going to tie you up one night. Spread eagle and naked. All mine. I’m going to play with you
until you’re screaming, begging to come.”
I fought to breathe, trying not to beg him to do it right now. Every racy, kinky, dirty thing I’d ever read about and wanted to try, raced through my mind.
I wanted to do it all. With Alex.
“I’ve got some free time now,” I offered.
“Jesus, Charley.” He chuckled, then kissed my nose as he released the tie. My hands were free, but I didn’t lower them. Didn’t want to give up that fantasy just yet. “You’re perfect.”
The words sunk in deep, drowning out every horrible feeling I’d experienced in the past few days after having my heart stomped on. I’d run the gamut as far as pity parties went—feeling like that gangling awkward tomboy again, like the world’s biggest fool, certain I had the word “sucker” tattooed on my forehead.
Alex was the answer to a prayer—helping me find my confidence again, my footing.
“I’m just saying,” I purred as I wiggled my fingers—still above my head, “it seems a shame to waste the opportunity.”
“Another night,” he repeated.
Reality snuck in. There wasn’t going to be another night. This was it. My one-and-only, one-night stand with Alex Stone. It was the same as any other woman had ever gotten and I’d be an even bigger fool than the one Ben Jerome had left in his wake if I fell victim to Alex.
Fake marriage or not.
Tomorrow, we’d annul the marriage and I’d fly back to Wisconsin, while he’d return to his bachelor’s life of unwedded bliss in Baltimore.
“For now,” he moved off the bed, grasping my hands and pulling me up as well. “You have too many clothes on.”
He gripped my hips, turning me away from him so he could untie the laces at the back of my dress. It fell away. Because of the design, I’d gone bra-less, which meant Alex had me down to just my panties in seconds.
I turned to face him, the look in his eyes making me feel…beautiful.
He ran his hand along my side as his gaze traveled downwards. He pushed my panties over my hips and I shimmied them the rest of the way off, kicking them off along with my flats.
I reached for his shirt, unbuttoning it. I wanted my own show, wanted to see…
