Jasper Vale (The Edens #4)(5)

This was Eloise.

So I’d stayed. I’d cuddled.

Hell. Foster was going to skin me alive. I was a dead man for marrying Talia’s sister. What if I just didn’t go back to Montana? If I hid out in Vegas for the next decade, would he forgive me?

Tempting. So goddamn tempting.

Just like Eloise.

The light clicked off in the bathroom. I closed my eyes, once more feigning sleep like a goddamn coward. The door swept open almost silently except for a slight creak in the hinge. Then her bare feet crossed the room once more.

Another zipper. Another rustle.

An annulment. That was the answer.

Maybe I’d get lucky and Eloise would agree to keeping this shit show between us. No one really needed to know we’d gotten married, right? We could just deal with it on the sly.

Sort of like how she was trying to sneak out.

If she wanted to disappear this morning, I was going to let her. The annulment conversation could wait until I got back to Montana.

The sound of traffic, of the city stirring, hummed in the background. Muted light crept through the windows. Too busy stripping each other naked, we’d forgotten to close the blinds when we’d stumbled into the room last night.

We’d fucked. Hard. Bare. My cock stirred to life beneath the sheets. It had been a long, long time since I’d gone without a condom, but when Eloise had told me she was on birth control and it had been a while, well . . . I’d broken my own rule about protection. It had been a while for me too.

Eloise had met my passion with her own. There’d been nothing soft or gentle. We’d clawed at each other, rough and wild. It was the best sex I’d had in, well . . . a long damn time.

Why couldn’t I have just screwed her? Why had I taken her to that fucking chapel?

Too far. I’d pushed much too far.

She wouldn’t want to stay married, would she? Eloise had to know that this wasn’t serious. That this was a drunken mistake.

She moved again, and even with my eyes closed, I felt her come close. Her feet, barely a whisper on the hotel room carpet, stopped beside the bed. The air shifted as Eloise crouched down.

I opened my eyes.

And saw blue.

Heart-stopping blue. Exquisite blue.

Her gaze was the color of sapphires. The cobalt of dawn. The azure of the hottest flame.

I’d gotten lost in that blue last night. First beside the Bellagio fountain. Then in this very bed.

We stared at each other, the weight of what we’d done settling between us like a ton of bricks.

Eloise’s beautiful face was etched with regret. She opened her mouth, about to say something, but a knock came at the door. She jerked, nearly falling to her ass.

I shot out a hand, grabbing hers to keep her upright.

Eloise’s gaze locked on my grip. Her fingers tightened, for just a moment, then she shook me loose. She held up a finger and pressed it to her lips.

Shh.

So she did want to keep me a secret.

Why did that burn? Wasn’t that what I wanted too—needed too?

“Are you about ready to go?” Lyla called from beyond the closed door.

“Be right there,” Eloise answered, but she didn’t make a move for the door. She stayed crouched beside me for a long heartbeat, like she was trying to figure out what to say.

That made two of us.

“We’re going to be late,” Lyla said.

Eloise’s shoulders fell. “One sec.”

Then she gave me a sad smile before she mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

Like this was her fault.

Why should she be sorry? It had been my idea. I’d been the one to hail us a cab. I’d been the one to direct the driver to the chapel. I’d been the one to rush inside, just before the midnight cutoff, and ask for a marriage license.

Me.

This whole fucking catastrophe rested firmly on my shoulders.

All because Eloise had told me that story about her horse drawing.

Damn it to hell. She wasn’t the one who should be apologizing. But before I could say a word, she was gone, rushing to the corner.

She pulled on a pair of tennis shoes, then swept up the carry-on suitcase she’d packed, extending the handle. Its sharp click was like a jab to the rib cage.

I shifted, lying flat on my back, quickly tugging the covers to my chin, hoping to hide from Lyla. Then I stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows shift as Eloise eased the door open just enough to slip out.

“Ready.” Eloise’s attempt at chipper came out forced. Too bright and too loud.

“Why are you yelling?” Lyla grumbled. “I’m hungover. Are you?”

“Um, yeah. Let’s go.”

The wheels of their luggage faded as they were dragged through the suite’s common room. Then the exterior door slammed closed, leaving me alone.

Foster had gotten this suite for Eloise and Lyla. He’d made sure that Talia hadn’t had to sit alone during last night’s fight. He’d told me all about this surprise for Talia. Not once as he’d explained the logistics had I thought I’d be sleeping in the room he’d reserved for them.

“Son of a bitch.” I rolled to my stomach, burying my nose in the sheets.

Eloise’s perfume clung to the cotton. Vanilla with an earthy depth. Floral but spicy, almost like a man’s cologne. Except it was entirely female. Entirely Eloise.