Chapter 15
FOOLS RUSH IN
Hayes
An hour later, I’ve got a marriage license in my hand, and we’re in the foyer of a white roadside chapel while an Elvis impersonator runs my credit card. “Now, you be sure to tie that tie, son. You need to look real pretty for your bride,” he says to me in that King-like drawl.
I glance down at my emerald-green post-game tie. It’s a hot mess. Guess I was tugging on it all night at the bar.
I move to tighten it when Ivy reaches for the silk. “I’ll fix my man’s tie.”
Those words—my man—go to my head. Hell, they go to my dick. I want to hear her say them after dark, when we’re alone, when she’s gazing up at me from the floor on her knees. I shake off that filthy thought. Don’t need a bowling pin in my pants when I say I do on a dare.
Why did I agree to this Vegas wedding? Well, you don’t back down from a dare from your new teammates, that’s why.
Sure, I’ve only been with the Avengers for a few weeks, but already I’m feeling like I’m a part of them, like I’ve wanted to be since I was called up four years ago to Toronto.
Like I’ve hoped to be on all the other teams I played for.
And hell, Ivy offered. As she adjusts my tie, she says, “You’re my wedding date. The least I could do is return the favor and be your wedding date.”
“At my own wedding,” I say, amused.
As her nimble hands adjust the knot, she meets my gaze, but something’s different in her expression. I study her for a beat, then I figure it out. “Your lips are red,” I say stupidly. I can’t stop looking at those slick, plump lips.
“I reapplied lipstick. You like?”
I want to kiss it off with my mouth. I want to wipe it off with my cock. I want to mess it up in every single filthy way. “Ask me in a few minutes,” I say.
Elvis clears his throat. “A bouquet for your bride would be nice,” he says, then reaches for some red roses on a mirrored table and hands them to her.
“Thanks, King,” she says.
“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he says, out of the side of his mouth.
Three minutes later, I join my teammates at the front of the tiny chapel, where Dev is nudging Stefan, and Stefan is nudging Brady, and they’re saying something about how I’m a gamer, and there’s nothing I’ve wanted to be more.
Elvis stands at the front of the chapel, decked out in his white sequined suit, big sideburns, and thick glasses. Next to him, a showgirl twirls a feather boa.
Kana strides in, playing the temporary maid of honor. Brady wolf whistles at his wife as she walks. When she reaches us, the music starts. It’s not the wedding march.
It’s Elvis himself crooning “Can’t Help Falling in Love” and it’s coming from a giant jukebox in the corner. As soon as the King warbles about fools rushing in, Ivy comes through the doorway.
Holy fuck.
She changed.
She’s not wearing her jeans and that crocheted top she had on post-game.
A white dress is tied at her neck and clings to her curves, teasing me with the swells of her breasts.
The skirt is swingy, the fabric satiny. She looks prettier than she did the night I met her in the elevator, and that’s saying something.
Next to me, Stefan lets out a soft wow.
I seize the chance for us to admire her together, something I fucking love doing. I lean closer to him. “I know, right?”
“She’s gorgeous,” he whispers. “Those fiery eyes.”
“Those lush lips,” I say, and a tension I wasn’t even aware I was carrying lessens. This is our first spoken admission of the shared attraction, and while I knew he felt it, it’s freeing to voice it to him.
“And her hair,” he mutters, just for me. “Think she’d like it wrapped around my fist?”
“While I tell her how good she looks when I smack her ass,” I add.
We’re a chorus of praise for my temporary bride as she walks down the aisle. But also, I can’t miss how my pulse spikes as the King sings about whether it’d be a sin to fall in love.
That won’t be happening.
No room in my life for that. No way. But right now, as Ivy strides toward me, I’m having a hard time remembering why I’m supposed to resist her. Don’t want to resist her tonight.
Stefan doesn’t seem to want to either since he lets out a rumble of appreciation, unbidden it seems. I relax even more. At least I don’t need to keep this secret. I like admiring a woman with him. It’s risqué in ways I crave.
“How badly do you want her?” I whisper to him.
“More than anything,” he says.
“Me too.”
When Ivy reaches me, she’s smiling—a warm, sweet glow that’s part the memory of tequila and part laughter. She glances around like she isn’t sure what to do with the flowers. Kana reaches for them. “I’ll hold them, hun.”
Ivy hastily thrusts the flowers at her and the music fades away.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here this evening…” the Elvis impersonator begins the affair, reciting a script he’s no doubt performed hundreds of times before.
One minute later, he’s saying to me, “Do you take this woman to be your wife?”
For a moment, I pause, considering my actions.
I squint, picturing the photos the others showed us at the bar.
Did they really get married or are they putting me on?
Hmm. I have a feeling. But it doesn’t matter.
One look at Ivy and those red lips, and I make my choice.
We’ll untie the knot in the morning. “I do.”
“And do you take this man to be your husband?”
Ivy grins. “When in Vegas, I do.”
Dev hands me the ring, and I slide it on Ivy’s left hand. Brady gives her one, and she puts it on my finger. I stare at my hand like it belongs to someone else. But when Elvis declares, “You may kiss the bride,” that—a kiss—belongs to me.
That mouth. This woman. Those lips. This will be so fucking worth it. Anticipation grips me hard. Kana’s been snapping pics and she gets one right before I lean in to kiss Ivy.
But before my lips touch hers, the chorus to “Hound Dog” blasts at a million obnoxious decibels, and we’re all rubbing our ears and begging the King to turn off his phone.
“My bad, my bad!” The King holds up his hands in apology, sliding into a Jersey accent that’s totally incongruous with his outfit. “Just an alarm that I have another wedding in ten minutes.”
And that’s that. My teammates are already moving onto the next thing. Dev’s hooting and wrapping an arm around Stefan. “Let’s get tacos,” Dev says. “There’s a place nearby that’s still open. Meet us there after you get your paperwork and shit. I’ll text you. And send me those pics, Kana.”
“Count on it,” she says.
“Your wife is the best, Brady,” Dev says to our teammate, then to the officiant, he adds, “And you’re the man, King.”
“Anytime,” Elvis says, returning to his drawl once more, then Dev steers everyone out of the chapel. For a second, Stefan looks back at Ivy and me, longing in his eyes, before he goes.
Elvis taps his watch. “I’ve got another one to perform in ten minutes. You can sign the certificate, but first why don’t you help her out of that dress and give it back to me?”
Well, that’s not a bad idea.
Elvis exits, leaving Ivy and me alone in the chapel. She gestures to the white dress. “They had costumes, so I changed,” she says, then spins around and heads to the door.
That won’t do. Fueled by dares and desire, I stalk over to her and grab her hand, jerking her around so she’s nearly flush against me. “Where are you going?”
“To change,” she says with a pinched brow, like why would I ask?
I shake my head. “Not until I kiss my wife.”