After breaking the kiss, the nameless Latina minx carefully slides off of my dick and curls up next to me again. We lie there in silence for a while, and I absently reach for the condom to remove it, tie it off, and toss it in a wastebasket next to the bed.Aaanndd…now what do I do?
“Mmmm…” she murmurs again, turning her face into my neck and kissing it. “Good morning,cariño.”
Oh man.
“Morning,” I say automatically, then pause as I grasp at straws for what to say next.
She seems oblivious to my awkwardness as she continues to kiss my neck while her shiny, red nails graze my chest. “I hope that’s how you plan to wake me upeverymorning,” she says with a light, mischievous laugh.
I match her laugh as best as I can. “Yeah…”
FUCK.
What do I fucking donow?
She kisses my neck one more time before pushing herself to sit up. She doesn’t even bother holding the sheet over her spectacular tits as she turns to the nightstand to pick up a bottle of water. Her long, thick, ebony hair iswild,and her skin isglowing,and her scent of cinnamon and warm vanilla is all over my body, and my stupid fucking dick doesn’t understand that we’re in a heap of shit right now, and threatens to rise to the occasionagain.
I hastily sit up as well, shifting to the edge of the bed and scanning the floor to locate my boxer briefs. There’s a trail of clothing leading from the living room of the large suite into the bedroom. There’s also an empty bottle of champagne sitting on a dresser, another open one sitting in an ice bucket right next to the first, and a platter of chocolate-dipped strawberries that has been picked over. There arealsotwo black velvet ring boxes and a stack of haphazardly folded up papers, and I wonder what the fuckthoseare.
My boxer briefs are halfway across the room, so I push off the bed, glancing behind me at the nameless minx, who’s now doing a carefree scroll through her phone as she reclines against the headboard. Her hot-as-fuck body is still on full, naked display, and on the luxurious king size bed in the middle of this swanky Vegas suite, she looks like a high-end advertisement forsin. Turning away from her, I scrub my hands over my face and then go swipe my drawers off the floor to pull them on.
“Are you still up for meeting your sisters for breakfast,cariño?”
My eyes nearly fall out of my head.
“Uh…”
Did I talk to her about mysisterslast night? Did shemeetmy sisters last night?
Fuck.
“I mean…” I stammer.
“I’m sure they’ll understand if we want to stay here and order in,” she says easily like one half of the married couple I’m pretty fucking convinced we are.
“Uhhh… Lemme think about it for a sec.” I make a beeline for the dresser and pick up the papers, then unfold them.
One is a receipt from the Harry Winston boutique that’s located here in the Bellagio, and it’s got my signature on it. Last night, I purchased a men’s platinum wedding band—the one on my finger—and a six-carat diamond solitaire engagement ring—the one on her finger. The total came to a cool five hundred grand.
The other folded-up document is—you guessed it—a marriage certificate. It’s from the little Vegas wedding chapel where I was supposed to meet my sister, Isla, and her ex-husband-slash-fiancé, Malachi, for their remarriage elopement last night.
And Papá is going to kill me.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mumble.
“Something wrong?” she pipes up behind me.
“Uhh…” I frantically skim over the marriage certificate in search of her name.
Natalia Luna Esposito.
Mywife.
Fuck. Me.
“Um,” I say again, turning to her with the documents still in my hand. “Natalia… I um…”
She blinks up at me through big, smoky-blue-gray eyes framed by long, fluffy, black lashes. “What’s wrong,cariño? You look pale.”
