Overnight Wife Page 2

  * * *

  There were other clubs. I remember that much. There’s a flash of a pub, with Lea and her boy in tow. Another club, this one with flashing strobe lights. I remember dancing with John again, his lips meeting mine for the first time, hard and insistent. He tasted just like the top shelf vodka—like the kind of quality kiss I’d never tasted before.

  And he’s so damn hot.

  There was more, I know that. Some kind of red room, lined in silk… a lot of cheering, balloons maybe? Or confetti? I don’t know. The next thing I remember is stumbling up to John’s room, by coincidence in the same hotel where Lea and I were staying, albeit definitely not on the budget floor where we booked. When he opens the door, I actually gasp aloud.

  The penthouse is huge. There’s a jacuzzi in it, and a living room and kitchen connected to an even larger bedroom, with a comically huge bed. I barely have time to take it all in before John kisses me, and this time he doesn’t let up. I wrap my arms around his neck and arch up into him, my hips digging into him the way they did earlier when we danced.

  His lips part mine, his tongue slips between my lips, and I lose myself in his taste, the feel of his hands gripping my hips, pulling me closer to him.

  He hoists me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist, my pussy pressed right against his belt buckle, so I can feel the size of his hard cock as he walks me toward the bedroom. With every step, I can feel myself shifting against him, getting wetter, hotter, as he deepens the kiss.

  A little voice in my head wants to second guess this. But it’s been so long since I hooked up with anyone, so long since I let loose and had some fun. This is Vegas, after all. This is what you’re supposed to do. So even though part of me wonders if I should be doing this, a bigger part yells shut up.

  After all, tomorrow starts a new phase in my life. Tomorrow, my world is going to change. So tonight, I’m allowed to have a little fun, dammit.

  At least, that’s what I tell myself. But it gets easier to stop worrying when John drops me on the bed, and pins me in place with one arm, kissing me again before he leans back to spear me with a heated glance. “Spread your legs,” he orders, and the man does not have to tell me twice.

  I spread my legs as wide as they’ll go, and shiver with anticipation as he kneels at the edge of the bed and peels my panties off. When his hot lips touch the inside of my thigh and he starts to kiss his way up the sensitive skin, there’s not a shred of doubt left in my body.

  I can let myself have this one night of fun. Tomorrow, everything will be different.

  2

  Mara

  I groan. My mouth feels like there’s a gasoline soaked rag stuffed inside, and behind my eyes, there’s a headache throbbing in full force. I reach up to fling an arm across my forehead, but the movement only makes the throbbing worse. Not to mention, the motion sends a wave of nausea through my body, and my stomach clenches, roiling from the simple movement. “Dear God, why,” I groan, forgetting where I am. Wanting nothing more than to make the aching stop.

  “Take this,” murmurs an unfamiliar voice. One that immediately makes me slide my arm up off my eyes and crack my eyelids with worry.

  Oh. Right. I forgot about him.

  John sits on the edge of the bed, a knowing smirk on his face as he presses a glass of water and a couple of pills into my palm. I squint at them suspiciously until he chuckles. “Relax. It’s just Advil.”

  I decide if he was going to drug me… well, he probably would’ve done that last night. Not that he needed to—I was all about the hookup. Flashes of it come back to me, and my cheeks burn from the memories. I have a fuzzy memory of riding him, my bra still on, screaming his name as he urged me to ride his fat cock, I believe were the words.

  Blushing, I stuff the pills into my mouth and swallow them with several gulps of water. On second thought, I wind up draining the entire glass. Better safe than sorry.

  Then I pass it back to him, wincing as another onslaught of memories reminds me how I knelt in front of him on all fours begging for his cock in my mouth. Or how he spanked me when he was fucking me from behind…

  Damn. I’ve always had a lot of kinky fantasies, but I’ve never felt comfortable enough to actually act them out with anybody. Maybe because I’d never met John before and I knew nothing serious would ever come of our hookup—not to mention the fact that I’ll never see him again after today—I was able to let go and be less inhibited.

  Either way, it was a damn good night, I know that much. But it’s also, in retrospect, very embarrassing. I can’t wait to slip out of here and find Lea, join her for coffee and swap conquest stories over brunch.

  “Well, thanks for the painkillers, clearly needed, but I’ll—” I stop talking, realizing John has wandered off. Oh well. Probably for the best. I glance past the bed at the bathroom door, and the one look reminds me all over again how fancy this room is. What does this guy do? Maybe he’s got a trust fund or something. He’s older than me, that much is clear, but not by a lot. It’s hard to imagine a guy his age having enough money to throw around that he can afford a swanky penthouse in one of the most expensive hotels on the strip. Then again, I’m not about to complain. This will probably be the only time I’ll ever see the inside of a suite like this.

  I slip out of bed and pad toward the bathroom. Inside, I rub sleep from my eyes and squint blearily at my surroundings. I have to check twice, just to make sure I’m not imagining it. Nope. Full bathtub with jacuzzi jets, an enormous rain shower that could accommodate a small family… complete with a one-way mirror looking out over Vegas. We’re at the top of one of the tallest buildings in the city. The view is breathtaking.

  I turn on the shower and rinse myself off, all while gaping at that view. It’s almost enough to distract me from my memories of last night.

  Almost, but not quite.

  But there’s one memory in particular bugging me. The red room with Lea in tow…

  I’m still thinking about that when my hand catches in my hair. I curse under my breath and struggle to disentangle it. Then I frown at my fingers. There’s a big diamond—gotta be fake—on my left hand. It sparkles when I move it, catching the light, almost like a real one… Impressive.

  But why am I wearing it?

  Shaking my head, I finish toweling off and check my phone. Several dozen missed texts from Lea.

  Photos, I realize. I open them and click through. And with every successive photo, my stomach sinks lower, my jaw dropping, my knees going weak.

  No. Oh, fuck no. We didn’t.

  But there it is, right in photographic evidence. A series of pictures of me and John, in a red-painted chapel with Elvis serving as the officiant and… marrying us! There are processional pictures, too. Lea giving me away, some selfies of Lea and the guy she took out last night. And then a series of shots of me and John. Holding hands, kissing… then me leaping up to wrap my legs around his waist and seriously make out.

  At that point it goes back to selfies of Lea giving me a thumbs-up. She labeled that one “YOU GO GIRL.”

  I cannot fucking believe this.

  I stumble back into the bedroom, forgetting I’m only wearing a towel.

  “There you are.” John catches my eye with a grin. He’s carrying a tray in his arms. Breakfast, I realize. He must have ordered room service for us. I can smell bacon and eggs from here, and my stomach growls with desire.

  But…

  “Did we get married last night?” I blurt, unable to stop myself.

  He goes quiet, his expression suddenly serious.

  I hold up my hand accusingly, diamond facing out. “I woke up and found this on my finger. And… and… I’ve got all these pictures that Lea just sent me, of us in a chapel with an Elvis impersonator. I mean… fuck! Is this real?”

  “What do you think?” he asks softly.

  “I fucking hope it’s not!” I yell, flinging my arms wide. “I can’t get married, least of all to some rando I met in a club in Las Vegas for God’s s
ake.”

  His expression shifts into a scowl. “Is there something wrong with me?” He arches one eyebrow. “You didn’t seem to think so last night when you were begging for my cock.”

  My cheeks flare red hot. “I didn’t—I mean…” I groan. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Last night was fun.” I pause. Blush again. “Really fucking fun.”

  His smirk widens, and he glances down at my towel, setting the breakfast tray aside. “Then why don’t you drop the towel and we can continue the fun. I seem to remember something about you wanting me to fuck you in the shower, although it seems you beat me there this morning…”

  My breath hitches. Tempting. Oh, how fucking tempting. But my head is still throbbing, and this conversation is hardly helping. “That’s not important right now,” I mutter. “What’s important is fixing this. How do we…” I can’t even believe I’m about to say these words. “How do we annul our marriage? Get it invalidated or whatever.”

  His expression darkens. “Oh trust me, that part is easy.”

  Something about the look makes my curiosity flicker. Has he done this before? But he steps toward me, distracting me from any thoughts about his past.

  “Why are you in such a rush, Mara? I didn’t think you’d be upset about this.” His expression turns mischievous. “Pretty sure you weren’t upset last night. How many times did you come? I lost count at ten.”

  My face could light this whole suite on fire right now. But I ball up my fists, trying to ignore it. The feeling of my nails digging into my palms helps distract me. “I don’t understand how you aren’t upset, John. You don’t think this is a complete disaster?”

  “Far from it. That was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. And I don’t think I’m being egotistical when I say it was yours, too.”

  I hate that I can’t disagree. Even with blank spots in my memory, blocking out some of what we did, the parts I can remember? Well, let’s just say that last night alone could keep me fueled with enough dirty memories to power my fantasies for months.

  But still. Hot sex with a stranger in Vegas is one thing. Marrying said hot stranger is quite another. “Look, I’m not saying I didn’t have fun.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” He arches an eyebrow, and it’s so infuriating it makes me want to shake him. Or kiss him. Or let him kiss me, the way he did last night, his tongue tracing a line down my jawline, along the curve of my neck, over my collarbone, until he wound up taking my bra off with his teeth alone.

  A feat in and of itself, I can tell you.

  My breath hitches. “The problem is that we can’t stay married, obviously.”

  That infuriating eyebrow remains arched, as if he disagrees. Yet all he says is, “You want to get this annulled.”

  “I want my life go to back to normal.”

  “Normal and lacking in mind-blowing orgasms that make you scream my name so loud we get noise complaints from neighboring rooms?” He’s grinning again, and goddamn it, I hate the way he can get to me so easily. We’ve only known each other for a day. It’s not fair that he already knows exactly which buttons to push.

  He takes a step toward me, then another. I’m painfully, heatedly aware that I’m still only wearing a towel. My face feels so hot I’m surprised he can’t feel the heat radiating off me—and that’s nothing compared to the rest of me. My pussy pulses between my thighs, my clit feels swollen with desire. Even if there are parts of last night that I don’t recall, I have a feeling my body remembers every single second.

  And it wants more.

  “What’s the hurry, Mara?” John murmurs, and that voice is like silk between my thighs, caressing all the right spots. “We’ve got all the time in the world. Just take off that towel, come back to bed…”

  I set my jaw hard, not sure whether I’m angrier with myself or him right now. “Stop it. I need to think, and I can’t with you distracting me. Get out!”

  His smirk widens. “You realize you’re in my room, right?”

  With a groan, I grab for my clothes, strewn across the floor in a way that sends a flash of memories rushing through my mind. My shirt flying in one direction. My panties very carefully being peeled off in another…

  “Breakfast,” he says, and for a second, I pause in the middle of collecting my things, positive he’s about to hit on me again. But he’s smiling, looking actually innocent for once. “I know a great little spot on the corner. Marcelle’s. They have a great fire-roasted tomato omelet, good coffee. Let’s meet there in an hour, okay? And then we can talk about all of this.”

  “No, that’s not okay,” I snap. “Can’t we just annul this remotely or something? I have things to do.” A job to start tomorrow. The very thought of it almost starts a fresh wave of panic in my body, but I push it away, repress it for now. First things first: get out of this guy’s room.

  This guy with the alluring eyes and the devilish smile, who’s currently looking at me like he wants to devour me whole. This guy who blew my mind last night—and also makes me want to punch him this morning.

  This guy who already knows something about annulments, to judge by his reaction every time I bring it up. It makes me wonder whether this is the first time he’s done something wild like this, running off and getting married to a stranger. For some insane reason, it makes me jealous to think about him with another woman, doing the things we did. Even though I know that’s crazy. I have no claim on him, and he has no claim on me. I don’t even want to be married to him. So why should it bug me that I’m probably not his first wife?

  I shake my head as I head for the door. Wife. I’m nobody’s wife. That’s crazy talk.

  “Is that a yes?” John calls after me, and I wave a hand back at him.

  “No, it is not,” I snap over my shoulder.

  “You know, I don’t remember you being this stubborn last night when you were begging for my cock,” he calls, loud enough that it makes me tense, wondering if anyone can hear—how thin are these walls if we got noise complaints last night?

  Or how loud was I being, exactly? The latter seems more likely, and it makes me blush and makes me hot all over again to think about.

  Maybe Lea is right. Maybe I should let loose a little more often.

  But no. What am I saying? Look at how this turned out. With a ring on my finger and a wedding contract I need to wriggle out of.

  It doesn’t help that my headache and the fog of my hangover have redoubled, making every step I take feel like a mountain to my tired limbs. “Fuck off,” I mumble over my shoulder, which just makes John laugh, the bastard. Then I manage to reach the elevator—the elevator that just opens straight up into his suite, damn, how rich is this guy? —and hit the button for my floor. I refuse to turn around, even when he calls after me.

  “I’ll wait for you, darling,” he yells, teasing, I think. Probably.

  My back tenses. “Don’t make me get a restraining order on you.”

  “Be tricky to sign our annulment papers if you do that, won’t it?” he yells back.

  It’s childish, I know, but the only reply I can think of is to offer him my middle fingers, just as the doors to the elevator slide shut. But that’s as much energy as I’m willing to expend fighting him any more on this right now. Because my head has started to pulse and I swear I’m going to be sick if I worry about anything one minute longer.

  I reach my floor and stumble down the hall to my room, swiping the key and making it all the way inside before I remember that I’m sharing this room. And shockingly, in a move that feels patently unfair, Lea is sitting up in her bed already, on the other side of our double room, watching television with a spread of room service around her on the mattress.

  She takes one look at me and smirks. “So, I see your wedding night went well.”

  3

  Mara

  I slam the door behind me and flop face-first onto my bed with an angry groan that turns into a scream halfway down. “I can’t believe you let me do that,” I yell
when I’m finally ready to turn back over again and glare at my ceiling. “What happened to sisters before misters and all that?”

  “Hey, you seemed entirely into it. I mean, the number of times you swore to me you wanted this, honestly—”

  “I was drunk!” I wail. “Why didn’t you stop me? You know I’m a lightweight.”

  “Relax, Mara. This kind of thing happens all the time.” Lea smiles over at me. “You guys can just go say it was a goofy one-night mistake and get it all cleared up by morning.”

  “It is morning,” I point out testily, with a glare at the curtains, as if the bright desert sunlight out there is personally responsible for the terrible decisions I made under the influence last night.

  “By tomorrow morning, then.” She waves a hand, but the words send a stone ricocheting through my gut.

  Tomorrow morning. When I’m supposed to be back in Los Angeles, ready to start my brand-new dream job at Pitfire Media. I cannot have this hanging over my head while I’m there. It will ruin any chance I have at concentrating on what I’m supposed to be doing. “That’s not going to work,” I groan. “I need to fix this today, Lea. Tomorrow I won’t have time; I need to have my head in the game. This is the worst possible moment for me to decide to go off the rails—”

  “Which is probably why your subconscious decided to go wild,” she points out. “The harder you suppress your wild side, Mara, the crazier it becomes when it bursts free. Trust me on this one. I’ve learned it the hard way.”

  “Yeah? Did you get married to a complete stranger yesterday?”

  “Well, no…” She smirks. “You might beat me on the wild side front now, actually.”

  I groan again and grab one of my pillows to bury my face in.

  “Come on.” Lea pats the bed next to her. “Come over here and have some breakfast. You’ll feel better with some food in you.”

  The word breakfast just reminds me of John. Probably waiting downstairs at that café he suggested, feeling all smug in his knowledge that I’m thinking about him. He thinks I’m just going to cave and come running after him like a good little wife? Well, he’s got another thing coming.