The beast ground his teeth so hard his jaw flexed. A very sexy vein stood out in his forehead. Oh, she was pushing his buttons alright. “Anger issues?” he grated. “I’ve had enough. Out of all the people that I wind up accidentally married to, it just had to be someone like you.” He stalked forward and slammed the door shut. The lock clicked in place.
June resisted the urge to smack her hand against it in a four-year-old version of a temper tantrum. A few seconds later, she heard the clank of the toilet seat and what actually sounded like a sigh of relief as he relieved himself. The piss went on for like eighteen minutes. She stood there the whole time, aware that she was being a strange pervert herself at the moment. It was just- funny. Funny in a way it shouldn’t have been. Listening to a sexy stranger who just happened to be married to you taking the world’s longest piss and sighing in relief about it shouldn’t have been funny.
If you couldn’t laugh about your misfortune, what could you do?
She clamped a hand over her mouth and stalked over to the suitcase which was resting on that nice leather couch at the far side of the room. She unzipped it slowly, quietly, so that he wouldn’t hear her in the bathroom.
She shouldn’t have done it, but she rifled through the clothes, which all looked expensive, until she found a T-shirt. It was soft cotton, black, and of course brand name with a logo on the front. She slid into it and it was practically a dress. She figured it would work for her walk of shame.
When it actually happened.
More like, her taxi ride of shame. She cast a dubious glance at the sky-high heels strewn by the bed. No way she was getting into those.
She was in the middle of zipping the suitcase back up when it came to her, snippets of memory like a parade of photographs.
Cards. They’d been playing cards. Poker. Sitting next to each other at a table.
She remembered how giddy she felt when the handsome man slid in next to her. Later, much later, far too many drinks in, she leaned in and he whispered under his breath, fueled by alcohol, desire, and the want of a good, hard fucking- which she hadn’t had in years, that they should make a bet. A bet that had nothing to do with money.
Of course, he meant sex. She thought he’d meant sex.
Instead she heard his voice like he was right beside her, whispering in her ear. Her neck heated and a rush of wetness that was certainly not an aftermath from the shower, trickled down her thigh. It was just them. The two of them left in the hand, betting against each other.
The memory of his gravelly words rang through her head, echoing with the finality of a gunshot. If I win, you agree to be my wife.
CHAPTER 4
Brock
Karma was a bitch. God, it was true.
This time he was the one interrupted by a furious pounding on the door.
Brock wasn’t nearly done with the shower, which he’d changed from ice cold to a warmer temperature when he couldn’t handle it anymore, but he killed the water anyway. He wrapped a towel around his waist, though he thought it would be funny to alarm his annoying companion by opening the door stark naked.
“Is the place burning down?” he snarled as he threw the door open.
His wife stood there, eyes wide, nostrils flaring, shoulders and her far too nice, well rounded, glorious breasts heaving with rapid breaths underneath a t-shirt. “I remembered something. About last night.”
Okay, so maybe that trumps the hotel being on fire.
“Hang on.” He slammed the door shut, toweled his hair so that it was no longer leaking all over him. He dried himself off, resisted putting his old boxers back on, and instead opted for a dryer towel. He slung it around his waist. It barely wrapped all the way, but he made do. Hopefully he wouldn’t flash a nut and alarm his wife further. It was tempting, though.
He ran a comb through his hair, applied deodorant that he hoped that woman had been lying about using. He opted not to stick the toothbrush in his mouth and instead scrubbed his teeth with his finger and a bit of toothpaste.
When he was done, he felt half human again. He strode out of the bathroom with far more confidence than he felt.
“Just wait.” He held up a hand when the woman stood up eagerly from the edge of the bed. His mouth opened and closed in shock. “Are you wearing My t-shirt?”
“Yeah.” She glanced down like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“You went through my suitcase too?” He gaped.
“Yup.” She nodded emphatically. “Sorry, what did you expect? That I should just hang out in the shreds of my dress from last night? Or maybe you thought I was just going to wear a towel back to my hotel. This is Vegas and all, but I’m pretty sure that would raise a few brows.”