Page 1 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

One

Emily

The bright sunlight sears through the blinds, piercing my skull. I groan, flinging an arm over my eyes, but it’s no use. The dull throbbing behind my forehead threatens to grow into a full-blown headache. Blinking my eyes open against the harsh glare, I take in the white ceiling above me—it’s completely unfamiliar.

Where the hell am I?

With a groan, I move to roll over, but something heavy is pinning me in place. My chest tightens as I glance down to find a muscular, tanned arm draped across my stomach. The arm is attached to a broad chest, rising and falling in deep, even breaths. I peer closer, my eyes rising from the hard, chiseled chest to an impossibly handsome face that belongs to… Sam Ryder!

He’s my brother’s bass guitarist and best friend. My heart pounds in my chest. The guy who thinks it’s funny to mock me at every turn. The guy who calls me “Cupcake” just to piss me off. The same guy who years ago kissed me when we were alone, exploring my body like he’d been dying to touch me, then just as suddenly pulled away, leaving me breathless and humiliated.Which I still haven’t forgiven him for!

And now, apparently, the guy I woke up naked with.

A cold wave of dread sweeps over me. This cannot be real. How did I let this happen? I can’t remember anything beyond the neon lights of Las Vegas, the band’s show, and—Oh God, the afterparty.

Flashes start to break through the fog of my hangover. The band’s show, slot machines, and tequila shots. Sam’s arrogant smile. How irresistibly handsome he looked with his shaggy hair falling over his brilliant green eyes. His hand was on my waist as we danced too close. The memory of his warm lips brushing mine—sends a shiver down my spine.

I clamp my hands over my face, willing the images to stop.

Carefully, I begin to inch my way out from under Sam’s arm without waking him, but he shifts, muttering something unintelligible, and pulls me even closer. His warm, naked skin presses against mine. Despite my panic, my body remembers exactly how those muscles felt under my exploring hands last night. But then my heart races from another emotion—fear.

Oh no. Please don’t let him wake up while I’m still here.

I glance toward the nightstand, desperate for a distraction, and my stomach plummets. There, a piece of paper sits innocently amid an empty champagne bottle and a discarded room card—a very official-looking piece of paper.

I squint to read it—Marriage Certificate.

My breath hitches, and I feel the room spin. Carefully, as if in slow motion, I reach out, picking up the paper.

There it is, written in black and white, our names, Emily Wild and Samuel Ryder.

My hands tremble as I set the certificate down. My gaze darting to the cheap plastic ring on my third finger, glaring at me like an accusation. Oh my God.

I need to leave. Right now.

I slide out from under Sam’s arm—this time, managing to free myself completely. I sit on the edge of the bed, my bare feet touching the plush carpet, and I look down at my naked body in shock. Next, my eyes dart around the room. I spot my white dress crumpled on the floor. My face burns at the sight.

My pulse races as I tiptoe around the bed, gathering my things. But as I reach for my phone on the table, my knee bumps against an open suitcase, sending it clattering to the floor.

The sound is deafening.

Sam groans behind me. “What the hell?” His voice is groggy, still rough with sleep.

I freeze, caught like a deer in the headlights. Slowly, I turn to face him, clutching my clothes in front of me like shield.

Sam sits up, his hair deliciously mussed, stubble darkening his unshaven jaw. The sheet pools at his waist, and I force myself to look away from the trail of dark hair leading lower. His sleepy eyes blink in confusion. Damn him for looking so irresistible first thing in the morning. The sight stirs memories of how those eyes darkened with desire last night, how his hands felt as they—No. I can’t think about that now.

His gaze rakes hotly over me. landing on the paper in my hand, then the plastic ring on his own finger. He notices how I’m trying to sneak away.

“Uh...” He blinks again. “What happened?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?” I snap, my voice high-pitched and panicked. “I was hoping you could tell me!”

Sam rubs a hand slowly over his face, and for a moment, he almost looks amused. “Well, judging by the evidence...” He holds up his left hand, showing me his matching ring. “I’d say we got married.”

The casual way he says it ignites something in me. “This isn’t funny, Sam!”

He leans back against the headboard with a sexy grin. “I didn’t say it was. But you gotta admit, it’s something—”

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