Page 4 of The Retreat

“The cherry thing?” I ask, putting it together.

“Obviously. Your lips…”

“Choking me to death with your cock is sounding better and better, isn’t it?” I grin.

He laughs and shoves me playfully. “Fuck off.”

I don’t know why Oliver can’t stand Colin. He isn’t so bad. “It’s in your brain now. You’re going to be thinking about it.”

“Stop! If I tell my therapist I’m into snuff films, they will commit me for sure.”

“Maybe that’s what I need to do…no, they’d probably just have the wedding at the asylum.” I put my forehead on the bar, resigned to my fate. “I’m so fucked.”

“Wait…I know how we can get you out of this.”

I sit up turning toward him eagerly. “How?”

“Marry me.”

I sputter. “Excuse me?”

“It can be a sham. But how are they going to marry you to Cassie if you’re already married?” Colin is on to something.

I’d give my parents a fucking alliance with the Covingtons, but not the one they wanted.

TWO

Colin

I’m not entirely sure how I got here, yet here I stand in front of a Dolly Parton impersonator holding hands with Owen goddamn Godfrey. I mean, obviously Dolly was my idea. If you’re going to get married in Vegas, it has to be as gaudy as possible. My parents are going to be horrified, which just makes me so happy.

The bright fluorescent lights are not doing anyone any favors, but Owen is just so beautiful that it doesn’t matter. Is he going to kiss me at the end? It’s expected during a wedding, but he’s straight…

The pink in my soon-to-be husband’s cheeks is from the alcohol, I think. The poor man was so pathetic looking at the bar, I couldn’t just leave him like that.

The fact that I’ve been salivating over what I assume his dick is like has very little to do with this. No, this is about protecting my little sister. The poor girl isn’t even eighteen yet, and my parents are auctioning her off to the Godfreys. I won’t stand for it.

My entire life I’ve protected my sisters. Just because I’m no longer living in my parents’ house doesn’t mean that ends.

Wanting to ride Owen’s dick like a bucking bronco is merely a coincidence.

Shut up, brain.

Why am I arguing with myself?

I snort and stumble into Owen. Maybe the shots weren’t the best idea, but whatever it takes to make sure Cassie is safe.

“I now pronounce you husband and husband,” Dolly says in a very fake southern accent. Did I say, ‘I do’? I don’t remember saying it…

Owen looks at me, glassy eyed and a little dazed. Poor boy, I’m going to enjoy tormenting him.

I step closer, stumbling into his chest so he has to hold onto me, or I’ll fall. With zero hesitation, I grab Owen’s face with one hand, wrapping my other arm around his neck, and kiss him. His surprised gasp opens his mouth, but I don’t press for more, despite how badly I want to.

“Congrats,” a woman smacking gum says, and Owen pushes me back. “Here ya go.”

Owen snorts, a very un-Owen sound. “You kissed me. Oliver is going to be pissed I kissed a Covington.”

She hands me a polaroid of us kissing with Dolly giving a thumbs-up behind us. I didn’t know they made polaroid film anymore. I thought that died with the dreams of millennials living the American dream?

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