Page 15 of Hot Mess Wedding

“Where’s your husband, Mrs. Stone?” one of them demands, snapping another picture.

She backs up into me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Who is this man? Is he your bodyguard?”

I hold up a hand to put some space between Cleary and the reporter, and repeat myself. “Wrong room, motherfuckers.”

Then, since words don’t seem to be making an impression, I press Cleary against the wall and put my mouth to hers. This is not the circumstance I wanted for our first kiss. Because yeah, the kiss was inevitable. I’m too drawn to her.

She’s about to ask me something, but I take advantage of her open mouth and plunge my tongue inside. She makes a startled noise, then her bag drops with a thunk and her arms go around my neck. Her tongue slides against mine and now I don’t give a fuck about any of the assface photographers behind us.

I pick her up and her legs go around my waist, and I grind myself into her jean-covered core.

She whimpers and kisses me even deeper.

I hear the photographers walk away grumbling about some hotel employee named Ray that tipped them off.

The elevator beeps and that seems to break the spell Cleary is under.

She pulls back, her eyes wide. Her lips fold into her mouth and she shakes her head.

“Book signing,” I say, letting her slide down my body. “Let’s get you there on time.”

The reporters are gone, at least, but I have no idea if I made things better or worse. Hopefully, I’ve thrown the reporters off the trail. But now I know what Cleary tastes like. She tastes like mint and hope and just a hint of lime. She tastes like she’s all mine.

Which is just as well since there’s no way I’m letting her go anyway.

At some point I need to text Micah and give him a heads up about the ring and hotel employee and possible rumors that he married a curvy redhead.

chapterfive

Cleary

The first half hour of the book signing goes by without me even registering the experience. All I can think about is that kiss. How he practically demanded my mouth and how my body just knew what to do, to chase what it wanted.

How easy it was to get completely lost in the moment, despite all the weirdness.

What was up with all those reporters? Who did they think I was and why were they there? When I asked Ian if he knew what was going on, he just shrugged and muttered something about “fucking Vegas” before reminding me that I was already late for the signing.

As for Ian, he hovers around my table like some sort of cover model bodyguard. All the women in my vicinity—both authors and readers alike—openly ogle him. Not gonna lie, it’s kind of annoying. He’s here with me.

Okay, he’s not really here with me. This is just a weird situation, but still,theydon’t know that.

I’m about to call him over when a guy stops at my table.

“I need a dick?” he says really slowly.

I look up at him and he’s leering down at me. He’s not unattractive. In fact before I’d met Ian, I would have said this guy was super cute. But his affect is just off.

I force a chuckle. “Uh-huh. It’s supposed to be a funny, tongue-in-cheek name.”

“I’d like to stick my tongue—”

Ian appears behind me. “Don’t finish that,” he growls.

The creepy guy leans back and eyes the bearded beast behind me.

“Who are you?” he asks.

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