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Nodding, Nate taps his temple. “Ah, good thinking. I love you, man,” he says.
We weave through the casino, heading to a limo someone ordered. We cruise through the night, grabbing a marriage license along the way, making out more in the back of the car.
Making out so much someone says, “Get a room.”
Someone else says, “Go fuck your fiancé.”
That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, so I crack up, and so does Nate. “He won’t be my fiancé much longer,” Nate says, then yanks me even closer.
Everything is bubbly and I can’t believe anyone is allowed to have this much fun in one night.
It should be illegal.
In the drive-through booth, a woman dressed like Frank Sinatra conducts the ceremony. Or maybe a man. It’s hard to tell.
We’re standing up, sticking out of the sunroof of the limo well past midnight in Sin City. The car sways a little. I think. Or maybe I’m swaying as the Frank look-alike clears their throat and turns to me. “And do you take Nate Chandler to be your husband?”
Well, this sure is a Risky Business kind of night.
I shrug happily. “Sometimes you gotta say what the fuck,” I say but less coolly than I’d hoped, since I hiccup.
Frank turns to Nate. “And do you, Nate Chandler, take Hunter Colburn to be your husband?”
The football player laughs so loudly it echoes to the stars. “I’m saying what the fuck too!”
“You may kiss the groom and the groom.”
Nate presses his big, strong body to mine and kisses me fiercely—a hot, possessive kiss that makes me feel like tonight will never end. It’ll go on and on, and everything will always be this good, this fun, this sexy.
On the limo ride back, Captain Responsible hands me some ibuprofen, then gives some to Nate as well. Like good hubbies, we each grab a water bottle from the console, then knock the liquid back.
“You’re the best,” Nate tells Bryan, the ibuprofen supplier.
“And you have the best friends,” I say to Nate, then we stumble out of the limo with rings on and into the bright lights of the casino at The Extravagant. We say goodbye to all the guys, and it’s just the two of us at last.
I’m going to have sex tonight, and I want him to know the score.
I feel differently now than I did the day I met him in the summer. I hid my inexperience from him then because I hardly knew him. On the plane to Vegas, I downplayed it since I didn’t know if it’d turn him off. Even an hour ago, I wasn’t totally one hundred percent clear.
Now, though? Thanks to the night we had, I’m ready to confess it all.
He’s earned it with everything he’s done, from his blunt compliments to his do you like nightclubs question.
Or perhaps it was in the shower, earlier, when he’d been so unashamed about his own desire for me, his own arousal.
I refuse to be ashamed now about my lack of history.
Sex will be even better if this gorgeous, vulnerable, funny, caring man knows it’s all new to me.
When we’re in the elevator, I grab my husband’s shirt and flash him a huge smile that I hope is seductive and hot-as-sin. I gaze up at the blue-eyed guy who’s got on a matching ring. “Here’s the real deal. I’m not just lacking experience. I have none with guys. Zero. Zilch. You’re the first man I’ve done more than kiss. The first and only. And I can’t wait to sleep with you. I wanted you to know that. All my cards are on the table. As in, my ass. And my dick. They’re all yours. And I’ve wanted it to be you ever since I met you.”
For a few seconds, Nate looks starkly sober as he blows out a sharp breath. Then deliriously turned on as he declares, “My husband is so fucking sexy. And I can’t wait to be your first.”
When we leave the elevator, we wrap arms around each other and somehow manage to get down the hall and reach our room without falling or fucking on the floor.
We even unlock the door. What an accomplishment. Once it snicks shut, I undo the top button on my shirt, then another as I head to the bedroom, ready to screw. “Come and get me, handsome,” I call out on the way.
“I’m coming, you’re coming, we’re all coming,” he croons.
I unzip my trousers right as I reach the big king-size bed. He comes up behind me, kisses my neck.
I murmur, close my eyes in pleasure, feeling boneless. My head seems to be floating up from my body and that’s my last thought before I fall face-first onto the mattress and everything goes black.
16
THE REAL HANGOVER CURE
Nate
Is that a car alarm going off next to my head, or a fire truck?
