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“Every last bit of it.” I shake my head out, feeling my brain rattle around loose inside my aching, tender skull as I drip and dribble my way inside.
The suite’s trashed, which doesn’t fucking surprise me. Empty cans, empty bottles, plastic cups still half-filled with beer and more questionable fluids—the works.
What surprises me, I realize, is that Lock fucking Williams is evenhere.
“Lock, honey,” I say, crossing my arms over my bare chest and surveying the scene inside the hotel suite. “What did I tell you the last time we saw each other?”
My beauty queen BFF Mysti May is passed out in the kitchen, covered in pad thai with her arm draped around the shoulder of a Thai ladyboy who looks a hell of a lot like Celine Dion.
I’m betting my valley girl BFF Becky is probably passed out in the arms of her wheeling, dealing, card shark billionaire hubby Liam in one of the rooms here.
Percy is still nowhere to be found, and Lock…
I cast a glance back at Lock.
He’s still bare-ass naked.
And he’s also very thoroughly checking outmyass.
“Lock?” I say, getting his attention.
“Mm. Sorry, darl,” he purrs. “I think you said…ah. Right-o. You said you never wanted to see my shit-smirking Crocodile Dundee face again, I think it was.”
“Sounds about right,” I agree, rubbing my temples. “So what the fuck are you doing naked in my hotel suite?”
“Darling,” Lock coos, walking past me and slapping my ass as he goes. “For that, you really ought to try and remember last night.” He steps effortlessly over Mysti May and her new friend, making his way into the kitchen as his man-meat slaps against his thigh. “Breakfast, darl? I make a mean vegemite toast.”
I’m about to tell him that I don’t want his vegemite toast. I’m about to tell him that the thing I told him last time our paths crossed still stands, and that I’m getting married tonight, and to put on some goddamn fucking clothes.
I’m about to tell him that I love my husband. That whatever he thinks he’s selling with that dick of his, I’m not buying. That I want him out of my suite, out of my hair, and out of my fucking life.
But before I can say any of that, something else interrupts me.
Something loud, belligerent…and frantic as fucking hell.
“HOLY FUCKING GOD,” a startled voice bellows from the bathroom. “MY GODDAMN PUBES ARE PINK!!!!!”
Percy.
“I’ll deal with you later,” I snarl, poking a frustrated finger into Lock’s rock-hard chest.
I’m still nursing that finger when I race towards the bathroom, Percy’s latest body hair disaster on my mind.
