Page 3 of Her Kensington
“Of course. You don’t think I’d marry the woman of my dreams without getting evidence?”
“I can’t believe they allow people to get married when they’re drunk,” she mutters as I rinse the conditioner from her hair, the soft blonde lengths falling easily through my fingers. I begin to harden again as images of my fingers tangled in her hair for another reason entirely fill my head.
“This is Vegas.”
“True.”
Last night might not have been planned. I came back here with the intention of not leaving again unless she was by my side but a shotgun, drunken wedding was definitely not on the cards.My mum’s going to be pissed, I think as I grab the shower gel from the shelf and rub it over her gorgeous curves.
“Getting ready for round two?” she asks when my now fully erect cock bobs between us.
“Damn right, Mrs. Abbot.”
“That sounds so weird.”
“Good weird?”
“Weird, weird. I woke up married.”
“Well, what did you expect when you moved to Las Vegas?”
“Not this, that’s for sure.”
“You mean you didn’t expect to fall in love with an English man and have a drunk wedding?”
“Nope, neither of those were on my to-do list,” she admits with a laugh. “So what’s next for us then, husband?”
“Oh, I’ve got some plans.”
“Is that right?”
“It sure is, beautiful,” I say with a wink as I run my hand down her stomach and find her as ready for me as I am for her once again.
