“Yeah, baby. There was dancing. A lot of dancing,” he murmurs as his thumb rubs along my cheekbone.
I lean into it, and then my eyes fly open. “You threw me over your shoulder like I was a bag of dirty laundry,” I exclaim, and a sexy laugh rumbles in his throat.
“You throw a lot of bags of laundry over your shoulder, princess?” He bends his knees, bringing his forehead to rest against mine when I don’t laugh at his stupid joke, fighting to hold back the tears threatening to pool in my eyes instead. “Come on, Lindy. Try to remember what happened after that. I need you to remember the rest of the night.”
I shake my head and immediately regret the motion as my head threatens to explode again. “How were you sober, E? You had as many shots as I did.”
“I wasn’t completely sober. But I wasn’t blackout drunk. And I didn’t think you were either. At least, not then. When we all piled onto the party bus afterward, and you and Everly started chugging champagne straight from the bottle, I thought maybe you wouldn’t be feeling too great today.” He tilts my face up to his, and I’m shocked by the hurt I see there. “But I wasn’t expecting you not to remember anything.”
“East—” I’m cut off by a banging on the hotel room door.
“Madeline Kingston, kiss your husband goodbye and get your ass moving. The jet leaves in an hour.” When I don’t answer her right away, too busy being stuck on the fact she just told me to kiss my husband, she bangs again. “I’ve been calling you all morning. Now answer the damn phone or open the damn door.”
Guess it was Everly who woke me up earlier.
That’s one question solved.
Only about a million more to go.
I step back from Easton, cross the room, and crack the door open. “Give me a minute, okay?”
She stuffs her hands through the crack in the door and shoves clothes at me. “Hurry up and say goodbye to lover boy. We’re waiting on you, and I need to know what to tell my mom.”
“Your. What?” I whisper, and my breath is ripped from my body. “Your mom? Your mom knows? Does my mom know?”
Please, dear sweet baby Jesus in the manger.
Please, please, please, don’t let my mom know.
“Everly,” I yell and open the door. Only, instead of Everly being there, the hall is empty.
Son of a—
My eyes fly to Easton. “It’s Vegas. We can get this annulled, and nobody will ever have to know, right?”
If they don’t already.
My mom’s gonna kill me.
My sisters . . . Good grief. My brothers are going to lose their minds.
“We’ve got to get this annulled. Quick,” I add on for good measure as I pull up the jeans Everly handed me.
“No.”
“I’m sorry. What?” I ask as I stare in disbelief. “What the hell do you mean no?”
Easton crosses the room in two strides and sinks his hand into my hair, pulling me closer.
I drop whatever else I was holding as I lean back against the door behind me and lay my palms over his chest. “Easton—”
“Stop talking, princess.” He brushes his mouth over mine, and a million sparks light up my body for the very first time. I sigh, and Easton’s tongue pushes into my mouth. Firm and deliciously demanding. Making me momentarily forget about this morning. About any war I was about to wage. I ignore the fear and anxiety bubbling under the surface and just feel him. Feel. Us. Until suddenly I can’t feel him anymore.
Because Easton pulls away, leaving my body cold and my heart racing. “Like I said, princess. Like it or not, we’re married, and we’re going to stay that way until you remember last night. Once you can tell me you remember marrying me, if you still want to annul this, I will. But for now, go pack your bags.” He smacks my ass and turns me toward the door. “See you soon, wife.”
Easton
The door closes with a soft snick behind Lindy, and I have the overwhelming urge to open it back up, just so I can slam it shut.
How the fuck does she not remember last night?
I bared my fucking soul.
She fucking said—
My phone rings, cutting off my thoughts, and I yank it off the table. “What?”
“Good morning to you too, asshole.”
“I’m not in the mood for your shit today, Pace.” I hit speaker and toss the phone on the bed so I can find my clothes.
“Aww. The honeymoon sex a disappointment? It gets better, buddy. You’ll last longer next time.”
“There was no sex last night, dick.” This motherfucker. “Lindy woke up this morning, didn’t remember any of it, and asked for an annullment.”
“Ohhh . . . Burn. That had to be a blow to your big, fat ego, huh? How you gonna fix it? Not sure it can really be fixed. But you’re gonna try, right?”
“You gonna take a breath, man?” I drop down on the bed and tie my damn boots, then rest my elbows on my knees. “She’s getting on a jet in an hour. How am I supposed to fix anything?”
“You want to give her the annulment?”
“Fuck no,” I growl.
Pace scoffs like the shithead he is. “Weren’t you trying to convince me yesterday she wasn’t your girl?”
Trying to convince myself is more like it, but I keep that to myself. “I was wrong, and you know it. You’ve always known it. And you’ve never missed a chance to point it out.”
“I know. I just wanted to hear you say it. Can you hold off on the annulment until you can talk to her? Or better yet, see her? When’s the next time the Vipers play the Revolution? At least then, you’ll be in the same city.”
“Pace, you’re a fucking genius. I could kiss you, man.” I jump up and grab my keys and the phone.
“Dude. I’ve always been a genius. ’Bout time you fucking noticed. But I’m gonna need you to tell me what the fuck you’re talking about this time.”
Always the smartass. “I need you to make a call.” I smile as I walk out of the hotel room. “I need you to accept the trade.”
Buckle your seatbelts and put those tray tables in an upright position, peeps, because I’m about to take you on a ride. Breaking news this morning: Madeline Kingston is now Mrs. Madeline Hayes! If a certain socialite’s social media is to be believed, baby Kingston married Vegas Vipers’ hotshot goalie, Easton Hayes. This isn’t the first time these two have made headlines together, so you might want to get ready for a bumpy ride.
#KroydonKronicles
LINDY
My bare feet slap against the dirty hotel carpet as I stomp out of the elevator on my floor. And yes, I know how gross that sounds. And that I’m probably not the first person to do this disgusting walk of shame. Ick.
That thought hits about the same time I manage to walk face-first into Maddox’s chest. His hands grip my shoulders as he laughs. “Hold up, trouble. Where’s the fire?”
“You’re a tool, Maddox.” He grins, and I pinch his nipple. We’re very mature for our age. Technically, I may be his aunt, but he’s always been more like an annoying brother than anything else. He’s two years younger than me but likes to act like he’s ten years older.
The door to our suite opens behind him, and I cringe.