Page 14 of Hot Mess Wedding

The second I was sure she was out to the world, I went online and downloaded a couple of her books. And then laid awake half the night reading them. And then got up and snuck into the bathroom and jerked off. Twice.

Because fuck me, she wasn’t lying when she said her books were dirty.

Dirty and sexy and fantastic in the best way possible. And now that I know all the things she imagines doing with a man? Yeah, there’s no way I’m letting this woman wander around Vegas alone.

There’s no way I’m letting her sit on another man’s face.

If she wants some guy’s dick in her pussy, it’s going to be my dick. She wants some guy’s cum all over her tits, it’s going to be my cum.

Whatever her fantasies are, I’m the man who’s going to make them come true. Is it cheating that I downloaded her books to get a glimpse into what she wants in bed?

Maybe.

But she wasn’t exactly playing fair when she stripped off her clothes and climbed into bed, so I figure we’re even.

Now, I just have to figure out how to get that damn ring back to Micah.

I quickly throw on some clothes because now that I know where the fucking ring is, I can’t let it—or Cleary—out of my sight.

“You sound so certain,” she says, giving me a suspicious look. “Does that meanyouremember what happened last night?”

I rub at the back of my neck and turn away from her. I want to tell her everything. But she admitted herself that she can’t keep secrets. So it’s not so much a lack of trust as I’ve got to keep my vow of loyalty to my buddy. Whatever shit Micah’s got going on in his life, it’s not my mess to sort out or my story to tell.

I pull on my boots.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

“With you. We have to stick together until we figure out what happened, right?”

A crease appears between her eyes. “Yeah.” She shoulders a sizable tote bag she pulled out of her second suitcase.

Then we’re heading to the door. When we get there I realize I set the key down last night. “Wait for me,” I say right as she opens the door.

I turn to find the key, then hear voices coming from the hall.

There she is.

It’s the mystery woman.

What’s your name?

Who are you?

Where’s Micah?

Oh fuck. Camera flashes are sounding outside the door when I shove it open. I find Cleary frozen in place, mouth agape and brow furrowed, surrounded by a half dozen reporters.

That’s not Micah Stone.

Fuck.

Clearly whoever tipped off the reporters about Micah’s wedding didn’t skimp on the details and now these assholes think Cleary is Micah’s bride.

“Wrong room, motherfuckers,” I mutter.

For a moment, I consider pulling her back into the room and keeping her there until the storm passes, but who knows how long that will be. And she has her book signing to go to. And she’s already worried about being late, so I doubt she’ll listen to my suggestion that we wait it out.

I wrap a hand around her arm as I shut the door behind us. I’m about to guide her away, but the reporters keep lobbing questions at us.

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