Hitched (Hitched #1)(4)

Oh, God. Fuck me. This guy is too much. Sexy, delicious, and he saves kids for a living? I just can't even.

I suck in my breath. "Of course."

He stalks to me and pulls me into his arms, kissing me deeply as beads of water transfer from his skin to mine. His fingers bury themselves in my deep gold hair, holding my head as the kiss turns full-bodied.

We are both breathless when he pulls away. "I had an amazing night," he says, his eyes holding my gaze. "I hope, as you remember it, that you will feel the same."

He moves away, and my body feels the lack of him and wilts a little. He dresses quickly and then hands me a business card with a phone number scribbled on the back. "Here's my cell. Text me your address, and we'll figure this business out. I've ordered room service, so help yourself and stay as long as you'd like."

Another kiss on the head and he's gone, leaving me alone in the spacious room, still holding my one red shoe.





Chapter 3


What Happens in Vegas


I wander the room, a little lost and a lot hung-over, still looking for my other shoe, which appears to have disappeared entirely. When room service comes, I sign for it and then stare at a table of food meant for two. I don't want to eat, but I know I need something in my stomach to absorb the alcohol.

Copious amounts of carbs, coffee, and orange juice perk me up enough to finish getting ready. I decide a shower sounds nice, since I smell like sex, sweat, and alcohol.

I hate dressing in the clothes I wore all night, but I have no choice. I'm staring down at the marriage license, once again struck dumb by the body double who must have taken over last night, when my phone rings.

"Kacie!" My brother sounds chipper, damn him.

"Hey, Tate. I'll be coming home soon. How was your night?" Better to divert attention away from how my night went.

"Oh, you know, a fun fling I won't ever have to see again."

"Lucky you."

There must be something in my voice, because his tone becomes more serious. "You okay, sis? Did something happen with Mr. Hottie?"

"I'm fine. He was great." So great, I f*cking married him. Ha!

He doesn't sound convinced. "Okay, well. I want details. It's about time you got out there and had some meaningless sex with the hottest guy in Vegas, besides me of course."

"Of course," I say with a smile.

"Get your ass home."

"Sure thing."

I hang up and look around once more. His overnight bag is at the foot of the bed, his suit from last night tossed over it. Taking my gold ring off, which is reluctant to leave my finger, I place it next to Sebastian's copy of the marriage certificate. He wanted a text, but that feels like it would open up too much communication between us. Instead, knowing he'd have to come back to get his stuff, I jot down my address and phone number, and leave—without my other shoe.

Exiting the hotel, the heat assaults me, bathing me in a sheen of sweat, choking me with the dry heat, and burning my bare feet with too-hot pavement. Nothing beats Vegas in the summer. I'd leave to spend the season elsewhere if it weren't the biggest moneymaking season of the year.

Tate, Vi and I took a cab here last night, knowing we'd all be too drunk to drive, so I hail one again and get home fifteen minutes later to the welcoming air conditioning of our three bedroom duplex. Tate is wearing a robe and boxer shorts, dark hair artfully messy and blue eyes showing no signs of over-drinking. My eyes, normally the same shade, are blood shot and still hurt.

He hands me a cup of coffee, heavy with the cream and sugar, and raises an eyebrow at my bare feet.

I hold up my shoe. "The other one is MIA," I explain, sipping on the hot and divinely good java.

He appraises me and smiles. "You look like you got good and tumbled last night."

"You have no idea."

"Do tell," he says, gripping my shoulder and guiding me into the living room, where Vi is lounging on the couch, reading a thriller.

"I didn't know you'd be here." I shove her feet off the couch and sit next to her.

"I crashed here last night. Where did you end up?"

I hand her the manila envelope I've been carrying. "Doing this."

Tate looks over her shoulder as she pulls out the paperwork. Her jaw drops. Tate almost spits out his coffee.

"What the actual f*ck?" Her eyes are wide. "You married him?"

"Apparently."

Tate pushes me into the middle of the couch and sits next to me. "Honey, we need to have a talk about sex. You don't have to marry the guy just because you f*cked him."

I punch his shoulder. "I don't even remember doing it. I drank. A lot."

"No shit." Vi hands me back the license. "What's he like?"

"He's a surgeon who saves the lives of children. So he's pretty much perfect. From what I can recall. He's gorgeous and sexy and amazing in bed. I remember that much. I just don't know how we got from hot sex to ‘I do’ in the course of a night."

"He must have been some lay," Tate says. "When are you going to see him again?"

"I'm not." But God I want to. This man has ruined sex for me, at least with anyone but him. "This is over. We're getting it annulled. It's the best thing."