Chapter 4
Clarke
I remembered little about what happened the night before, but one thing was certain—hangovers sucked. Clearing the sleep from my eyes, I glanced out the curtains to my right, blinking away the sunlight. My head pounded as the Las Vegas skyline came into focus.
Last night was a blur, a collection of drunken moments. A list of endless bad decisions I regretted the second I heard someone snoring beside me.
I rolled onto my side, staring in horror at Will “Romeo” Roman, naked and in all his glory. My best friend’s brother was the cockiest asshole to play in the NHL. I’d hated him for years and vowed never to fall into bed with him again.
And I made a horrible mistake.
Drinking rule number one—don’t let your jerk of an ex-hookup feed you melon ball shots like it’s a liquid dessert. But they sure as hell tasted good on the way down.
I glanced around the room for my clothes. From the looks of the place, we tore the hotel room apart. Overturned lamps were on the floor, with sheets and the comforter thrown halfway across the room. The mirror facing the bed had red lipstick smeared across the glass.
What the hell did I do last night?
My body looked as if a truck had hit me. Stretching my legs, I gasped at the light brushes on my knees, thighs, and arms. Will was never gentle with me, but this was next-level wild.
No way he did this to me.
I propped my elbow on a stack of pillows and looked at Will, unable to take my eyes off his body, which was like carved stone, ripped with muscle in every place imaginable.
I thought I had learned my lesson a long time ago.
Don’t sleep with infuriatingly sexy hockey players, especially ones related to my best friend.
Will was the starting right winger on the Philadelphia Flyers and the player I loved to hate.
We had a past, one I never shared with his sister.
We kept our distance and pretended nothing happened, but Mia was not an idiot.
She knew something had happened between Will and me but did not know how far back our drama went.
Will slept with his hand over his face, snoring like a baby. I noted the hard edges of his body and the sharpness in his jaw. He was beautiful when he wasn’t talking. But when he opened his damn mouth, all bets were off. His short blond hair was messy from sleep, though he still looked hot as sin.
How could I do this?
More like, why did I do this?
There was a time when I waited for Will. Back then, I was stupid and didn’t know how men like him operated. I thought he was different and that we both wanted the same thing.
But I was so, so wrong.
I’m never drinking again, not if I can help it.
I could only recall a few things, the night a blurry, distant memory.
There was dinner with my best friend Mia and her soon-to-be husband, Ethan.
We were in Vegas celebrating their upcoming wedding.
Will and a few of their teammates from the Flyers joined us for dinner last night, followed by a lot of bar hopping.
We ended up at Coyote Ugly, which was around when the night became a blur.
I remembered dancing on the bar and Will throwing money at me. The thought alone made me want to crawl under the bed and hide. All of his teammates were there.
Oh, God. How could I have been so stupid?
Then there was a strip club, maybe a lap dance or two. A lot of drunken kisses with Will. And judging by our lack of clothing, we did much more than kiss.
Ethan and Mia got married by Elvis.
No, that can’t be right.
I slid my legs off the bed, full-blow panic settling into my bones as I tried to recall how we ended up at a chapel.
Who got married?
And why was I in a chapel last night with Will?
Our rooms at the Bellagio were similar, though I could tell by the stack of random shit piled on the sofa table this was Will’s room. We had adjoining rooms, so we talked before dinner last night.
The stupid mistake on the hotel’s part led to… whatever happened between us. I needed to leave before the sleeping prince awoke. Heart hammering out of my chest, I started looking for my clothes. As I bent down to grab my dress from the floor, I noticed the gold ring on my left finger.
A simple band… a wedding band.
What the hell?
This is not mine.
How did I get it?
With my dress balled in my hand, I moved to Will’s side of the bed and saw the same gold band on his finger.
The wedding last night.
It was Mia and Ethan’s.
Right?
I remembered Elvis and Will and even more drinking. But why was no one else there? No teammates, no Ethan and Mia. They would have been at their wedding. But no… I would never marry Will, drunk or otherwise. I could not even stand his ass most days.
The room was messy, with clothes, blankets, and discarded condom wrappers on the floor. At least we remembered to use protection. That was a relief.
A few moments came back to me in flashes, hot and wild moments even my drunken brain could not forget.
Will pushes me into his room with his hand on my back. He grips my hips and slams my butt down on the desk. A lamp crashes to the floor. He shoves the phone and books on the table beside me onto the carpet, making room for himself between my thighs.
He tugs on my panties, and the thin fabric rips as he strips them from my body in one fell swoop. His eyes travel up and down my hot flesh, a wild look flickering in his blue irises. It’s carnal and intense.
Will traces his fingers down my thighs, pressing his hard cock against me. He fists my hair in his hands, his breath heating my earlobe.
“I want to hear you say it.”
His fingers rub my wet slit, teasing me.
“I hate you… but I want this,” I moan. “I want you.”
I gasped at the memory, afraid to let my mind go back through all the details of the night we spent together. His lips on my earlobe, those passionate kisses that made my body hum to life. Will made me feel higher than any drug, more alive than I had ever felt.
We got drunk.
We got married.
We had really dirty sex.
I blushed ten shades of red at the memories of Will on top of me, below me, staring up at me from between my legs.
It was hot.
He was even hotter.
But I promised to avoid him and never fall for his tricks or charms. The media called him Romeo for a reason, though he was more like Casanova. Sex, we could do that, no problem. A relationship, marriage, definitely not.
Until six months ago, we’d hated each other with a passion. We couldn’t even be in the same room without wanting to claw each other’s eyes out. But we set aside our differences for his sister.
I still didn’t like Will. He was arrogant, annoying, frustrating, and overbearing. He was used to getting what he wanted, and for a while, he wanted me.
Moving backward from the bed, I accidentally bumped into the desk and knocked a water bottle onto the floor. The crash woke Will from his slumber. He opened his eyes, blinking a few times before he looked up and noticed me. His gaze flicked up and down my body, then to his long, hard cock.
He smirked like he wanted a repeat.
Yeah, that’s not happening.
Again.
We were good in bed but not much else. Will and I would never work in any romantic sense. We had nothing in common and could never agree on anything.
Will tipped his head toward his morning wood, a cocky smirk in place.
“Like that would ever work on me, Romeo,” I chided.
“You’re so mean.” Will patted the space beside him. “Get in bed, Elsa. Let me thaw the ice from your frozen heart.”
“I’m not an ice queen.” I shook my head. “And this never should have happened.”
“Well, it did. Deal with it.” He sat up, his stomach muscles stretched so tight you could bounce quarters off them. “Why were you hovering over me? Plotting all the ways to kill me?”
I wanted to laugh. Under different circumstances, I would have.
“No, I’m plotting how to get rid of you.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re in my hotel room, babe.” Will flung out his hand toward the door. “If you want to leave so bad, I won’t stop you.”
I studied the ring on my finger and sighed. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
Without another word, I turned on my heels and rushed toward the bathroom with my dress and underwear in hand. Will whistled as I walked away, commenting on my ass. Damn him.
I stormed off, leaving my dignity and sanity on the floor with my heels, wishing I’d left before the asshole woke up. He drove me crazy and knew how to push every button.
I locked the door behind me, dropped my clothes onto the counter, and stared into the mirror in horror. Black streaks of mascara stained my cheeks. My brown hair was everywhere, sticking up in various places.
I looked like roadkill.
My breath stunk of alcohol and bad decisions. I needed toothpaste, a shower, and probably a lobotomy. What would have possessed us to walk into a chapel and get married?
None of this made sense.
Will knocked on the door as I washed my face. I ignored him and dried my skin with a towel.
Will banged on the door, harder this time. “Come on, Clarke. Open this door. We need to talk.”
“I’m good with going back to avoiding each other.”
“Not an option, sweetheart. Come out here and talk to me.”
I hung the towel on the rack and opened the door. Wearing a pair of black boxers that perfectly hugged all his best assets, Will held up his hand, the ring gleaming on his finger.
“Looks like we have a problem.”
That’s an understatement.
“The solution is simple.” I slid my hands to my hips. “We’re getting this marriage annulled.”
I learned never to allow Will Roman into my heart three years ago. And I was not about to repeat my past mistakes by staying married to him.