A line of sunlight filtered through the window blinds and angled across Brian’s eyelids. Wincing against the red glare, he turned his face into his pillow. Something felt wrong this morning. He recognized the bed as the one at the back of Sinners’ tour bus, so it wasn’t because he was waking up in an unfamiliar hotel room. He was accustomed to life on the road and opening his eyes to a new city almost every morning, so why did he feel like something was different from his norm?
It was too quiet. The motion of the tour bus and the din of its engine were missing. It was such a familiar lullaby that his mornings felt off if he didn’t wake to the sound.
With a sleepy smile, he rubbed his face against his pillow, still trying to grasp full consciousness, and cringed as pain shot across the bridge of his nose. Fuck, his face hurt. And not because he’d slept on it again. He felt as if someone had pounded him between the eyes with a hard fist.
Probably because someone had.
All at once his mind grasped why the bus was stationary this morning and the reason his nose felt like it had been moshing with a wall in his sleep. They were in Las Vegas. Vegas. Myrna had agreed to marry him in Vegas. His botched bachelor party the night before had resulted in his worse-for-wear face, which meant…
Today was his wedding day.
Instantly awake, Brian shot his hand out into the space beside him to find nothing but an expanse of empty mattress. Had it been a dream? The woman had been throwing off his proposals for weeks, so maybe he had imagined her telling him she loved him. Dreamed that she’d agreed to marry him. Brian’s heart panged unpleasantly.
He reached farther, needing the tangible evidence of her skin beneath his touch. More cool and empty sheet met his seeking fingertips. Had Myrna changed her mind and left him? She had been pissed when he’d shown up with two black eyes the night before. He couldn’t blame her for having second thoughts after he’d gotten into a fight at a strip club. A strip club he hadn’t even wanted to go to, but still…
He stretched his arm as far as it would go, and his fingers found warm, soft skin. He breathed a sigh of relief and spooned against Myrna’s back, inhaling her delicate scent. Not a dream. Not his imagination. Sweet reality.
Myrna murmured his name in her sleep. The corners of Brian’s mouth turned up, and his heart warmed. He snuggled closer to her back, placing a tender kiss behind her ear.
“I love you,” he whispered. It felt so good to say it openly without worrying about her getting upset. The only thing better than verbally expressing his love was hearing her say it in return. He should probably let her sleep—their make-up sex had kept them awake well into the night—but he needed to see the love shining in her hazel eyes and hear her put the sentiment to words. In a few hours, she’d be his wife—Mrs. Myrna Sinclair. As far as he was concerned, the honeymoon started now.
Brian flicked Myrna’s earlobe with his tongue and sucked it into his mouth. The breathy sigh she emitted grabbed him by the balls. It was always like this with her; she ignited an insatiable sexual hunger within him. And so many things about her contributed to it. Her openness to any sexual experience blew his mind and challenged him to invent new experiences to share with her. Her scent, her taste, the sexy little sounds she made while their bodies were joined, the texture of her skin, the way the light danced in her auburn hair, the gleam of naughtiness in her hazel eyes, how her pouty lips always begged for his kisses... The entirety of her physical being burned his body with awareness. The music he composed while making love to her inspired his soul. Her hard-won trust set his heart ablaze. He loved everything about her, even her stubbornness. She wasn’t an easy woman, but she was the only woman for him. He’d known it the first time they’d made love. And now she knew it too. At least she said she did. He decided she needed a few reminders so she wouldn’t forget.
Sucking and nibbling on her ear, he moved his hand to cover her breast. She arched into his palm, her hardened nipple pressing into his flesh.
“Brian!” she gasped.
It would be the one and only name she’d call out in ecstasy for the rest of their lives. He couldn’t ever imagine growing tired of hearing her say it.
He slid his hand lower, over her ribs, her belly, seeking the center of her pleasure at the juncture of her thighs. His fingers brushed the crisp curls between her legs, and she shuddered. He already knew what he wanted to do to her. He’d stroke her clit until she came and then press her down on her belly, suspend himself over her back and fuck her slow from behind. Grind his hips each time he buried his cock deep inside. Tease her clit with his balls until she begged him to make her come.
Myrna caught his hand before he could find his target.
“No,” she said firmly.
“No?” How could she say no? She never told him no. Never.
“Not until the honeymoon.”
He grinned. “Which I’ve already decided starts now.”
She rolled over to face him and winced. “Oh, baby, your face! And I thought you looked bad last night.”
Bar fights never ended well, even when you won. It hadn’t necessarily been the brightest idea to get in a brawl at his bachelor party, but the instigator of the fight—one Eric Sticks—wasn’t known for coming up with bright ideas. Impulsive ideas? Yeah. Troublemaking ideas? Definitely. But not bright ones. And the cause of the fight—one Jessica Chase. Well, he didn’t want his morning ruined by thoughts of that gold digger.
For a few tense moments the night before, Brian had thought Myrna would call off their wedding. Thought his world would end. But after telling him off, she’d listened. She allowed him to explain. And while she hadn’t condoned his idiocy—or Eric’s—she’d forgiven him. He’d made sure to thank her body profusely for her forgiveness well into the night.