Page 159 of Beautiful Collide

I blame the champagne.

I blame Hudson’s damn smirk. It needs a warning label. One shouldn’t be held accountable for what they do when Hudson Wilde smirks at you. You’re liable to accidentally get married.By Elvis.

I groan. The feeling of his fingers brushing against mine is currently living rent-free in my brain. The heat in his voice when he whispered, “You’re mine now, Hex.”

I bury my face in my hands. I never stood a chance against him. He’s too damn enticing.

Maybe this isn’t real.

Maybe this is a horrible alcohol-induced fever dream.

The ring.

If it’s all a dream, how did the damn ring end up on my finger?

A pounding on my door snaps me out of my pity party.

I freeze, my heart lurching into my throat. Who the hell is here? Please, not Dane.

“Hex. I know you’re in there.”

Shit. This is worse than Dane being outside my door, so much worse.

“No, I’m not,” I say low enough that I don’t think he can hear me through the door.

“Really? Then who’s talking?” Another knock. “Just open the door. Wouldn’t want your brother to catch me.”

Shit. He has a point.

Hopefully, he doesn’t remember, and I won’t die of embarrassment. Or maybe he’ll tell me it was all a joke, and he was just messing with me. A fun prank.

But as I open the door, all my hopes and dreams crash and burn with two words.

“Morning, wife.”

58

Hudson

This should be fun.

I lean against the doorframe, bracing for impact.

There’s a good chance this won’t go well.

Molly opens the door with a look of pure shock on her face. That and horror. Almost like she might throw something sharp at me, like a knife.

Yeah, she remembers last night.

“Morning, wife.” I grin at her, and she meets my grin with a scowl. The face of someone ready to commit homicide.

It’s funny.

While she looks like she wants to throttle me, all I can think of is just how much I want to kiss the shit out of her.

“You have got to be kidding me.” She crosses her arms at her chest. “Please, for the love of God, tell me this isn’t real.”

I hold up my left hand, where the cheap silver band rests. “It’s real.” And I’m brave. Because there’s a full risk she will kill me, but I still smile broader. “And legally binding, I might add. Pretty sure Elvis signed the paperwork.”

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