He hands me some paperwork I hadn't noticed sitting on top of the mahogany dresser. "This happened. I admit to being as surprised as you."
I raise an eyebrow. "I very much doubt that."
His grin falters. "Do you really not remember?"
I look down at the paper. It's a marriage license, signed and stamped and very official looking. Holy shitballs. What the fuck have I done?
"Bits and pieces are coming back," I admit. "But I don't remember this," I say, holding up the paperwork. "This can't be legal."
"I'm afraid it is. I already made a call to my attorney while you were sleeping. Unless you're already married to someone else?" Now he raises his eyebrow, and I scowl.
"I think I'd know if I was previously married."
His lips curve into a sardonic grin, and I sigh at the irony of my own words. "Don't give me that look, dude. This isn't standard operating procedure for me, and I'm guessing—hoping—it's not for you either."
"This is a first," he assures me. "You're the first."
My heart flutters, whether at his words or the way he says them, with heat and desire and all the things that landed me in this spot right now. I know I'm not his first sexual experience. That much is clear. I guess that makes me his first wife. Um, great?
***
As the crowd at the bar grew louder, we moved closer to talk. I couldn't help but notice how good he smelled, a spicy, woody scent with hints of cinnamon and cardamom. It made me want to taste him.
As if reading my mind, mid-sentence he leaned in, cupped my face with his hands, and pressed his lips to mine. He tasted like expensive red wine, and he deepened our kiss, exploring my mouth with his, our tongues teasing each other.
When the kiss ended and he pulled away, I felt deflated and aroused all at once. I missed the feel of him, the contact with his body, and a need grew in me that I hadn't felt in quite some time.
He licked his lips and smiled. "I've been wanting to do that since I first saw you walk in with your brother and friend."
I flushed at the thought that he'd been watching me that long. We'd been here for hours.
"You make quite an impression with a first kiss," I said.
"That's just a taste of what's to come." He winked. I nearly swooned. Not actually swooned, because, you know, I'm not a too-tight-corset-wearing damsel from the Victorian era, but if I'd been standing, there'd for sure be some wobbly knees.
This man. He was delicious, and I wanted more.
I plucked the cherry from my drink and sucked on it in a seductive way. "You're not the only one with skills," I said.
He was sitting so close, his knee was between my legs, one hand on my thigh, pushing up the red dress I was wearing. "Shall we go somewhere and explore these skills in more… depth?"
I didn't need to touch him to tell he had enough in his pants to give true depth to those promises. I reached for my purse and caught Tate's eye. He looked at both of us, then smiled and mouthed, "Have fun!"
We walked out of the bar, Sebastian’s hand on my lower back, lingering just a little bit too low, fingers exploring the curve of my ass. And I didn't mind a bit. Believe me, if I did, I'd make my thoughts clear. No one has ever accused me of being too shy to express my feelings.
But right now, with this man, there was only one feeling I wanted to express, and it required considerably less clothing.
***
"We need to get this annulled," I say, my heart racing. "I mean, that shouldn't be hard. I'm guessing this isn't that uncommon in this city."
He holds eye contact with me, and let me just remind you he is still naked, and a part of me wants to lick the water off his body and then reenact the parts of last night I'm starting to remember.
"That would probably be the wisest thing to do," he finally says.
I'm relieved. Obviously. Any other feelings that might be surfacing right now, in light of his easy acquiescence, are of no consequence. I push away that flutter of disappointment and straighten my spine. "Of course it is. We barely know each other."
He apparently knows me better than I know him. My memory is coming back, but slowly. I've never been this drunk before. Well, there was one time, back in college, when I got so drunk I almost did a strip tease on a table, but someone had a video camera, and a friend talked me out of it. I didn't remember anything the next day, but that was my first and only drunk black out. Until now.
Marrying a one-night stand definitely beats stripping on film in my book.
Chapter 2
Dr. Sexy
A cell phone rings. Not mine, I realize, looking down at the phone next to me.
Sebastian turns away to reach for his cell charging on the table by the side of the bed. "Doctor Donovan here."
Doctor? While I rack my brain to see if this is information I already had access to, he wraps up the call with monosyllabic responses.
The muscles in his back and shoulders flex, a stress response, perhaps, mirroring the urgency in his voice. He has a tattoo on his back, a stylized image of the moon with stars surrounding it.
I remember that tattoo.