Page 2 of Chasing Forever
“You have a suite?” My voice rises, the pieces still not fitting together as to how I got here.
His head drops forward, jaw twitching. “That’s your concern?”
“Excuse me? I have no idea where I am.”
Brooks runs a hand over his face, then groans. “I think you broke my damn nose.”
I blink at him. He’s standing completely unbothered—naked—while I can barely string a thought together.
How is he so calm?
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to think, to retrace my steps, but only fragments of last night return. Nothing that would lead to the reason why I’m in this hotel room with him. Why he’s naked.
“Brooks?”
He tilts his head in my direction with annoyance etched on his face, but still says nothing. The man is so irritating.
“Explain!” I gesture with my hand in the air as if to say, Look at your naked body.
He mimics my motion, running his hand back my way. I glance down to see that I’m naked as well. With a yelp, I grab the sheet, tugging it up and over me.
“You think I didn’t already see you?”
I grip the sheet tighter and move to slide out of bed. “You did not.”
I’m not sure why I’m arguing. It’s obvious I’m naked under this sheet, but maybe if I pretend we didn’t most likely sleep together last night, we’ll both come down with amnesia.
“Lottie, can you please lower your voice?” He sits on the edge of the bed, still hanging out for everyone and anyone to see.
I search for my clothes, my knuckles white and aching from fisting the sheet so tight every time I bend down. “So, we got drunk and slept together.” I shrug. “No big deal. No one has to know.”
His eyebrows raise. “You think no one saw us leave together?”
He grabs his boxer briefs from the floor, finally covering himself. A small, very tiny part of myself is disappointed I don’t remember last night because Brooks is working with some impressive machinery down there.
“Well, since you seem to remember, want to enlighten me?”
He stares at me long and hard. “I wish I could.” I shake my head, and his eyes flare wider, staring at my hand. “Look at your left hand.”
I blow out a breath and lift my hand.
A silver band sits snug around my left ring finger.
My gaze flies to his left hand, but he already has it raised, eyes narrowed. Sure enough, there’s a matching band on his.
“You forced me to marry you?” A cold breeze flows over my body.
Brook’s face holds no reaction, and I realize he’s not looking at my face. His attention is on my breasts.
I glance down at the puddled sheet on the floor. “Seriously?” Bending, I grasp it and pull it back up.
“You can’t blame me. You have an amazing body.” When my mouth is too slack-jawed to respond, he continues, “Although I’m sure I didn’t marry you because of it.” He chuckles.
I don’t.
“And FYI, I didn’t force you to marry me. Thanks for letting me know exactly what you think of me. Who’s to say you didn’t ask me? Beg me?”
I balk and spot my panties hanging off the corner of the couch. I shuffle over and snatch them. “Doubtful.”
