Page 2 of It's Holy Matrimony, Baby

CHAPTER ONE

I’ve never been to Vegas. Never gambled in a casino.

I’ve never played the odds, given lady luck the time of day, or believed in fate.

And I’ve never married a stranger in a drunken moment of lust either.

That would be ludicrous. Preposterous... “I do.”

BECK

Peeling open one tacky, gritty eyelid, I catch sight of white ceiling. Where am I? Could be anywhere, except Liv and I were at a craps table at some point in the last twenty-four-ish hours. Give or take an ish. It’s blurry and blindingly bright, and I slam my lid closed with a groan while I throw an arm across my face. Christ, did we end up in Vegas? How much did I drink last night?

My skin is sticky with dried sweat despite the constant background hum of what is most likely an air conditioner. A high thread count sheet, the type that is so soft it might as well be silk, clings like luxury sandpaper to my dehydrated skin. And what the heck is that overly warm weight on my hip?

It feels, oh Christ, it almost feels like—dare I say it when I don’t want to think it—a hand? Is it a hand? Somebody’s hand? I lift the sheet slowly, carefully, not wanting to wake up the hand. Oh shit! It’s attached to a wrist. Nice watch though. Huge, classic face on a thick, tan leather band. I jam one eye shut and wince as my gaze follows that wrist to a forearm. Masculine, tanned, lightly dusted with gold hair until the elbow. Oh my freaking goodnight, is that his dick that I spy through the space between his arm and my body? He’s naked? And that’s his cock? It’s definitely his cock. His big, thick, erect cock with quite the proportional helmet. Did I ride that last night?

I scramble to get away from the humongous boner. Thump.

“Ouch,” I whisper, rubbing at my bare ass cheek as I sit up on the floor beside the bed. Is that my naked ass cheek? I glance down. Oh shit! My boobs are swaying in the wind. Just hanging out for all the world to see. There’s not a stitch of clothing on me. Grabbing the edge of the white sheet, I rip it off the bed and wind it around my naked body as I climb to my feet. Please don’t be awake. Please don’t be awake, Mr.…?

Why don’t I remember his name? Christ, that body. All bronze and muscles and shaggy hair that’s fallen over his face. Not too long, not too short. The type of hair that makes women envious and looks good from bed until bed again. And those eyelashes are insane, dusting his cheeks. He’s like a cover model. Or a rock god. His lips move lightly with each breath he takes. His eyelids flicker. His morning wood bobs against his stomach as he rolls onto his back. I hide my eyes behind my hand and stumble away from the bed.I need water. Painkillers. To get out of here before Mr. whoever he is wakes up.

The bathroom is almost as big as the main room with its orgy sized shower and separate tub. Glass tiles break up my reflection and spin it back at me. Thick black smudges around my eyes make me look like a panda, and is that a hickey on my shoulder? Another on my neck? Why is my bra hanging from the rainwater showerhead?

I step inside the shower to retrieve my bra and accidentally knock the water on. The icy blast makes me yelp and almost fall out of the stall in my haste to get away from it. Dizziness gives me a head rush that makes my stomach defy gravity as part of last night rushes me.

“These tits are amazing.” My back against the tiles, my hands caged above my head in one of his, he nibbles my shoulder and grapples with the hooks on my bra before peeling the wet lace from my skin and hooking it over the corner of the square shower head.

Gripping my hip tight enough to bruise, he growls. “Can’t believe how much you teased me all night, and now you’re mine. I’m going to fuck you all over this hotel room.”

“Please.” I jerk forward and lock my lips with his, eager and desperate for that hardness pressed to my entrance. Want to feel it inside me. His mouth is hot on mine, his jaw rough, and I love the way it makes me shiver when it scrapes against my skin. “Less words. More actions.”

“All right. All right.” He grins as he presses all those mouthwatering angles and planes against me. “Are you always this bossy? Because it’s a fucking turn on, Beck Casey.”

Beck Casey? I turn off the water. Did I give him a false name? Putting on my bra, I latch the clasp and straighten the straps. Aliases aren’t exactly new to me, but come on, half a fake name? There’s something pathetic about the half-assed attempt that doesn’t gel.

Groaning, I lean against the sink, clutching the marble counter with one hand while I put my head under the tap and turn it on. Water runs down my cheek and my chin. What on earth happened last night to make me spend the night with a stranger? A hot, stunning, obviously utterly screwable stranger, but still...

Liv would say you only live once, and any first is a good first. Vegas for starters. Craps. This bizarre morning after… I splash water on my face and scrub at the thick smears of makeup around my eyes. After what? What else did we do?

I take a couple of breaths while I turn off the tap and pick up my black panties that are draped over two empty champagne flutes. Another partial memory clicks into place as I pull them on.

“How did I get this lucky?” he asks, taking my half-empty glass of champagne and setting it with his at the back of the sink. After lifting me onto the counter, he strips off his unbuttoned white shirt and hooks his hand in the back of his T-shirt. Pulling it up over his head, he tosses it over his shoulder.

“Good Lord.” I fan my hand in front of my chest. He’s gorgeous. Blue eyes and shaggy brown hair that’s got a little blond in it, a little caramel under the lights. What would it be like in the sun?

“You like what you see, Angel?” He grasps my knees and pulls me right to the edge of the counter, making me yelp. I death grip the marble border to keep my balance as he leans in to slide those firm, seductive lips up the side of my neck.

“Like would be a little underexaggerated,” I whisper. His actions make me breathless and I rub my thighs against one another.

“Feeling’s mutual, Beck Casey.” He grasps my chin and moves his lips over mine before digging his tongue between them. My knees fall wide so he can move closer. Firecrackers explode behind my eyelids, travel up and down my spine. The man can kiss like nobody’s business.

I dig my fingers into his shoulders as he tilts me back. His torso is pressed to my chest and my nipples are spiking my bra hard, and he’s pitching the front of his jeans so tightly I’d be surprised if there wasn’t an outline of his fly on his cock. If he keeps kissing me like this, I’m a goner. “You should take off those pants, Mister.”

“Absolutely,” he agrees, helping me wiggle out of my panties and dropping them behind me. “Right after I take care of my woman.”

Giggling, I guide his mouth back to mine. “Can’t believe you called me your woman. We barely know each other.”

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