Page 6 of Forbidden Desire

A wide grin spreads across his face. “Too late, gorgeous.”

The music of another Elvis song fades into the background as Zack watches me. My limbs tingle with a warm sensation, and I sway along with the room.

“Fine.” I square my shoulders, meeting his challenge head-on. “Till sunrise do us part?”

Zack nods and laughs a low, rumbling growl. “Deal.”

A faint smell of cigarettes and champagne hangs around Eddie King, adding to his aura of extravagance. His drawl wraps around us, rich and velvety, as he begins the ceremony. “We are gathered here today under the neon lights of love and luck to witness a special moment in the heart of Sin City.”

The wedding continues and we slur marriage vows from our mouths amidst uncontrollable laughter. We’re spinning like stars colliding in the neon night.

Eddie’s eyes sparkle. “By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada. I pronounce you—”

“Wait.” Zack suddenly looks serious, holding my gaze. “This is real. You’re real.”

The intensity in his eyes sears through me. “Always have been.”

His thumb brushes my knuckle. ”Then I’m all in.”

I lean toward him while the universe narrows to just us. “Me too.”

Eddie looks at both of us and then nods. “Man and wife.”

“Kiss the bride,” Zack murmurs before his claiming lips land on mine, sealing the deal.

I return the kiss, devouring his lips with a ferocity born out of desperation, my body aching to receive his touch. In this moment, it’s as if everything has ceased to exist and all that matters is the chemical connection between us.

While our bodies meld together in raw passion, the room spins around me like a carnival ride, the edges blurring and the lights becoming one.

The King croons on, but all I hear is my heart pounding a new rhythm called Zack Wolfe.

Chapter 3

Zack

Myeyesflickeropento a ceiling that isn’t mine. The air is heavy with the mingling scents of lavender, freshly brewed coffee, and the subtle hint of expensive perfume. I squint against the morning light spilling through unfamiliar drapes.

Beside me, there’s a rise and fall of gentle breathing.

Not alone.

My pulse kicks up a notch. I turn, and there she is—Bianca Fitzgerald, her honey-blonde curls splayed over the pillow, looking like a fallen angel with a tiara askew atop her head. Her skin is tan and flawless. Her leg drapes over mine, a white garter band hugging her thigh just beneath the hem of her black dress. Wait, a garter?

Uh… did we have sex?

No, couldn’t be. No lingering warmth or smell of shared intimacy clings to us. There’s no disheveled undress or aftermath glow. We’re both fully clothed, her in a silk evening outfit that’s seen better days, and me in a crumpled suit jacket that screams of last night’s reckless abandon.

I slip out from beneath Bianca’s arm, careful not to wake her. The plush carpet caresses my bare feet, each step a gentle massage as I stand still, taking in the unfamiliar luxury suite.

The Oasis Hotel. My brother, Devin’s new hotel. It’s all coming back now. The dare, the rush downstairs, the wedding chapel. Holy hell.

“Damn it, Zack,” I mutter to myself, rubbing a hand down my face. This is chaos, even for me.

Did we really tie the knot? Nah. I would remember if Bianca Fitzgerald—the ice queen of Vegas nightlife, my most infuriating competitor—had crossed that line with me. But then again, alcohol has a way of blurring events and erasing memories.

Bianca stirs, sitting up slowly, blinking away sleep. I watch her—the tilt of her head and the crease in her brow deepening—all signs of her own disbelief mirroring mine.

She blinks more, her long lashes fluttering as confusion tightens her brow. Mortification colors her cheeks when her gaze lands on me. “Zack?”

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