It Wasn't Me (KPD Motorcycle Patrol 2)

I frowned.

“What?”

She rolled over onto her belly and shifted the sheets so I could see what she was talking about.

It was a tattoo.

Another one.

It was on her left ass cheek and said, ‘Mrs. Crew.’

I bit my lip to keep from blurting what I thought about the tattoo.

“Go ahead.” She dropped her head into the pillow. “Say it.”

“I like it,” I told her bluntly.

She snickered. Then burst out into full-blown laughter.

“I kind of did, too!” She shook her head. “I mean, the scrollwork on it is epic.”

Then the reality set in. “Umm, do you know what happened last night?”

She shook her head.

“I can remember up until I was on drink number four when we got to that casino. Then I think no sleep, paired with my medication, paired with my alcohol, means not so good things for my memory.” She groaned.

That didn’t explain my lack of memory.

“I’ve been drinking since I was a twelve-year-old kid. I haven’t had this bad of a hangover since I was nineteen and trying to prove to my CO that I could out drink him,” I explained.

There was a long pause, then she said, “Did you win?”

I grinned and fell backward onto my back, then rolled until I was facing her.

“Yes,” I answered. “But I regretted it for a week afterward.”

She snickered but quickly sobered.

“You had so much beer yesterday that I’m fairly sure you almost died of alcohol poisoning. Like so much. You drank about five times the amount that I did.”

I frowned.

“Was there a reason for my excessive drinking?” I questioned.

“Well.” She frowned, looking so adorably cute that it was making me want to laugh. “There was this guy that told us they were serving free beer. From there, you had to drink a beer every fifteen minutes for it to continue to be free. I also got all my drinks free if you were able to do it.”

I shook my head. “Sometimes I can’t understand the utter stupidity that goes through my head.”

She threw the sheet back over her butt to cover herself, then rolled to face me.

“There’s a marriage certificate on the nightstand, as well as two actual wedding rings, and we have tattooed rings on our finger. Also, I’m fairly sure this was all your idea.” She licked her lips, blinking owlishly at me.

“Me?” I asked, stunned. “What makes you say it was me?”

She groaned hard. “It’s not normally my go-to thing—getting married—when I’ve been drinking. My go-to thing when I’ve been drinking is taking naps.”

She scoffed, and I reached for her hand again, bringing the ring finger up close to my face to inspect it more closely.

“Does it hurt?” I asked, running the edge of my thumb over it once.

“Kind of,” she paused. “I thought they weren’t supposed to tattoo you if you were drunk.”

I glanced up at her face as I ran my thumb over the tattoo again, feeling a swelling of pride and excitement coursing through me.

“This is Vegas, baby,” I replied. “Anything goes in Vegas. As you’ve already found out.”

She groaned and pulled her hand away from my grasp, covering her face with both of hers.

She scrubbed it vigorously as she said, “I have eight thousand things to do today, one of which is walking a whole bunch, and I have a tattoo. On. My. Ass.”

As she was scrubbing her face, the sheet slipped down, revealing one nice, juicy nipple.

“Piper?” I said softly.

She peeked out at me from between her fingers. “Yeah?”

“Your nipple is showing,” I growled. “And unless you want me to bend over and take it into my mouth, you should probably cover it up.”

But…she didn’t cover it up.

“You want to know why I know we didn’t do anything?” she asked softly.

I licked my lips, eyes on her nipple.

“Why?” I rasped.

“Because I’m a virgin.”

I blinked. Then blinked again, trying to focus my thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what?” I blurted.

“I’m a virgin,” she repeated. “You married a virgin. The oldest virgin that there ever was.”

I frowned. “Is your vagina defective?”

She pursed her lips.

“No,” she said.

“Can someone stick their cock in there?” I asked.

“Yes,” she hesitated.

“Then why the fuck are you a virgin?” I asked, unable to help myself by moving forward and stopping just inches away from her pert nipple. “Because honey, from where I’m at, you’re absolutely perfect. I’ve wanted to fuck you since I saw you walking past me on the tarmac in Germany.”

I heard her swallow hard.

“I made a vow when I was sixteen and my sister got her heart broken that I wouldn’t be following in her footsteps,” she explained. “A vow of celibacy that went on way longer than I thought it would.”

I leaned forward and felt my breath bouncing off of her perfect nipple and blowing back into my face. I was so close that all I would have to do is stick my tongue out.