Hitched (2 page)

***

"We need to get this annulled," I say, my heart racing. "I mean, that shouldn't be hard. I'm guessing this isn't that uncommon in this city."

He holds eye contact with me, and let me just remind you he is
still naked,
and a part of me wants to lick the water off his body and then reenact the parts of last night I'm starting to remember.

"That would probably be the wisest thing to do," he finally says.

I'm relieved. Obviously. Any other feelings that might be surfacing right now, in light of his easy acquiescence, are of no consequence. I push away that flutter of disappointment and straighten my spine. "Of course it is. We barely know each other."

He apparently knows me better than I know him. My memory is coming back, but slowly. I've never been this drunk before. Well, there was one time, back in college, when I got so drunk I almost did a strip tease on a table, but someone had a video camera, and a friend talked me out of it. I didn't remember anything the next day, but that was my first and only drunk black out. Until now.

Marrying a one-night stand definitely beats stripping on film in my book.

A cell phone rings. Not mine, I realize, looking down at the phone next to me.

Sebastian turns away to reach for his cell charging on the table by the side of the bed. "Doctor Donovan here."

Doctor? While I rack my brain to see if this is information I already had access to, he wraps up the call with monosyllabic responses.

The muscles in his back and shoulders flex, a stress response, perhaps, mirroring the urgency in his voice. He has a tattoo on his back, a stylized image of the moon with stars surrounding it.

I remember that tattoo.

***

We couldn't keep our hands off each other as we walked through the casino toward the elevators. "I have a room here for tonight," he said.

"In anticipation of this?"

"Actually, no. There's a convention here that I was a speaker for. I live in town, but it was easier to get a room. Finding you was a lucky surprise that I intend to take full advantage of."

The elevator binged and opened, and we walked on. I was surprised that no one else crammed in with us, but we didn't waste the privacy.

He pressed me to the wall and ran a hand up my inner thigh, skimming the edges of my panties gently, then pressing harder, spreading my pussy through the satin material and rubbing against my clit. I sucked in a breath and pushed against him as I ran my hand over his cock. It strained against his slacks, desperate to escape.

When he moved my panties to the side and slid a finger, then two, into me, I gasped, wet and ready and needing him so badly that I was nearly choking on desire. "I want you inside me."

"Darling, I want to be inside of you."

Moving so fast I didn't realize what he was doing until he'd done it, he pressed the emergency button and stopped the elevator mid-floor. "I'm going to fuck you hard and fast, but later, I promise I'll take my time," he said as he turned me around, lifted my dress and pulled down my panties. With a knee, he spread my legs more, I heard a rip from a condom wrapper, then felt his cock—hard, huge, urgent—as he thrust himself into me.

Without preamble, without warning, but I didn't care. I was wet and ready, and I pushed my hips against him to take him deeper as he held my waist, fingers digging into me as he did what he’d promised: fucked me hard and fast.

The taboo of it all made me so hot I came just before he did, my body spiraling as muscles clenched and heat pooled in my center, then spread like wildfire.

When he pulled out of me, I braced myself against the wall, adjusted my dress and panties, and he released the emergency button. The elevator started again and opened to his floor, where Vegas vacationers waited for one of the six other elevators positioned around ours.

I was sure everyone was staring, guessing at what we just did, but I didn't care. He held my hand and led me to the executive suite at the end of the hallway. I whistled, impressed. I'd been to company conventions before and never stayed in the penthouse at one of the most expensive hotels on the strip.

The room was everything it should be. Cream furniture with accents of gold and light wood. A balcony overlooked the strip at night, and it took my breath away. By the sliding glass door, a two-person table hosted a basket of fresh fruit and chocolates, and in front of the luxurious cream couch was a matching ottoman with a chilled bottle of champagne and two glasses resting on it.

We skipped all of that and headed straight for the bed.

We undressed each other with more patience than we displayed on the elevator, our most urgent needs temporarily satiated.

I lay back on the bed, spreading my legs as he moved between them, flesh burning at the contact.

He began to fulfill the second half of his promise to me, taking his time to trail kisses from my mouth, down my neck, tracing a line with his tongue over my collarbone and the hollow of my throat. Each touch, each kiss made me quiver in delightful anticipation.

Taking one of my nipples into his mouth, he sucked and nibbled as his hand explored between my legs. I groaned, arching my hips to present my body to him.

Leaving a wet, exposed nipple throbbing, he moved down my belly and held my hips as he dipped his head between my thighs. When his tongue flicked out to tease my labia, I shuddered, reaching for him, my fingers twining in his hair as I pushed him deeper into me.

With skill and patience, he tortured me, circling my clit with his tongue but never touching it.

"More," I moaned, running my fingers through his hair.

"Soon, darling. Remember, I said I'd take my time. And I always mean what I say."

Fuck. This. Man. I needed him to make me come and fuck me. I pulled on his hair, and he licked my pussy from top to bottom in response.

"Why the fuck are you torturing me?" I asked.

He pulled back and grinned. "Because you tortured me all night, darling. I’ve needed this pussy since I first saw you, but you made me wait. Now it's your turn." And then he continued nipping, sucking, exploring with his mouth and fingers until I was on the edge of a cliff, about to fall into the abyss he'd created.

My fingers fell to his shoulders, digging into his skin as my tightly wound ball of need exploded into shards of color and light. "Oh God, Sebastian. Fuck me!"

Finally, he complied, easing his cock into me, eyes locked on mine as he slowly moved inside of me. His hands explored my body as I gripped him, nails sinking into muscle as our pace increased. When he lifted my legs onto his shoulders to deepen his reach, I cried out in pleasure and adjusted my hips to meet him. With frenetic energy, muscles flexing, he pounded me harder, so hard, so deep, I couldn't breathe or think or do anything accept meet his need with my own, taking him in until I felt as if he'd tear me apart and remake me all at once.

His name was on my lips as I came harder than I could ever remember, and my pussy gripping his cock sent him over the edge too.

After, as he lay on his stomach, head turned to face me, I curled up next to him and traced the tattoos on his back with my fingers. "What do these stars mean?"

He shifted positions and looked up at me. "They represent the battles I lost."

That's all he'd said, and I didn't press further.

Soon thirst and other needs forced us apart.

He smacked my ass playfully as I sauntered to the bathroom. "Hungry, darling?"

I considered. "Sure, I could eat."

And so we dressed and left the hotel room, where the night of drinking commenced.

***

Sebastian hangs up and turns to me. "Darling, I have to go. One of my patients, a six-year-old girl, went into cardiac arrest, and I have to scrub in for surgery."

Oh, God. Fuck me. This guy is too much. Sexy, delicious, and he saves kids for a living? I just can't even.

I suck in my breath. "Of course."

He stalks to me and pulls me into his arms, kissing me deeply as beads of water transfer from his skin to mine. His fingers bury themselves in my deep gold hair, holding my head as the kiss turns full-bodied.

We are both breathless when he pulls away. "I had an amazing night," he says, his eyes holding my gaze. "I hope, as you remember it, that you will feel the same."

He moves away, and my body feels the lack of him and wilts a little. He dresses quickly and then hands me a business card with a phone number scribbled on the back. "Here's my cell. Text me your address, and we'll figure this business out. I've ordered room service, so help yourself and stay as long as you'd like."

Another kiss on the head and he's gone, leaving me alone in the spacious room, still holding my one red shoe.

I wander the room, a little lost and a lot hung-over, still looking for my other shoe, which appears to have disappeared entirely. When room service comes, I sign for it and then stare at a table of food meant for two. I don't want to eat, but I know I need something in my stomach to absorb the alcohol.

Copious amounts of carbs, coffee, and orange juice perk me up enough to finish getting ready. I decide a shower sounds nice, since I smell like sex, sweat, and alcohol.

I hate dressing in the clothes I wore all night, but I have no choice. I'm staring down at the marriage license, once again struck dumb by the body double who must have taken over last night, when my phone rings.

"Kacie!" My brother sounds chipper, damn him.

"Hey, Tate. I'll be coming home soon. How was your night?" Better to divert attention away from how my night went.

"Oh, you know, a fun fling I won't ever have to see again."

"Lucky you."

There must be something in my voice, because his tone becomes more serious. "You okay, sis? Did something happen with Mr. Hottie?"

"I'm fine. He was great." So great, I fucking married him. Ha!

He doesn't sound convinced. "Okay, well. I want details. It's about time you got out there and had some meaningless sex with the hottest guy in Vegas, besides me of course."

"Of course," I say with a smile.

"Get your ass home."

"Sure thing."

I hang up and look around once more. His overnight bag is at the foot of the bed, his suit from last night tossed over it. Taking my gold ring off, which is reluctant to leave my finger, I place it next to Sebastian's copy of the marriage certificate. He wanted a text, but that feels like it would open up too much communication between us. Instead, knowing he'd have to come back to get his stuff, I jot down my address and phone number, and leave—without my other shoe.

Exiting the hotel, the heat assaults me, bathing me in a sheen of sweat, choking me with the dry heat, and burning my bare feet with too-hot pavement. Nothing beats Vegas in the summer. I'd leave to spend the season elsewhere if it weren't the biggest moneymaking season of the year.

Tate, Vi and I took a cab here last night, knowing we'd all be too drunk to drive, so I hail one again and get home fifteen minutes later to the welcoming air conditioning of our three bedroom duplex. Tate is wearing a robe and boxer shorts, dark hair artfully messy and blue eyes showing no signs of over-drinking. My eyes, normally the same shade, are blood shot and still hurt.

He hands me a cup of coffee, heavy with the cream and sugar, and raises an eyebrow at my bare feet.

I hold up my shoe. "The other one is MIA," I explain, sipping on the hot and divinely good java.

He appraises me and smiles. "You look like you got good and tumbled last night."

"You have no idea."

"Do tell," he says, gripping my shoulder and guiding me into the living room, where Vi is lounging on the couch, reading a thriller.

"I didn't know you'd be here." I shove her feet off the couch and sit next to her.

"I crashed here last night. Where did you end up?"

I hand her the manila envelope I've been carrying. "Doing this."

Tate looks over her shoulder as she pulls out the paperwork. Her jaw drops. Tate almost spits out his coffee.

"What the actual fuck?" Her eyes are wide. "You married him?"

"Apparently."

Tate pushes me into the middle of the couch and sits next to me. "Honey, we need to have a talk about sex. You don't have to marry the guy just because you fucked him."

I punch his shoulder. "I don't even remember doing it. I drank. A lot."

"No shit." Vi hands me back the license. "What's he like?"

"He's a surgeon who saves the lives of children. So he's pretty much perfect. From what I can recall. He's gorgeous and sexy and amazing in bed. I remember that much. I just don't know how we got from hot sex to ‘I do’ in the course of a night."