Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
"Crue," she groans. "You're making it hard."
I chuckle, pressing my face to her throat. "Baby, you made it hard the minute I laid eyes on you this morning. The bastard hasn't gone down since."
"That's not what I meant," she says, pouting up at me. "I meant my virginity. You're making it hard to keep it."
"That's because you know it belongs to me."
"Yeah, but…" She bites her bottom lip.
"But what, Éire?"
"Nothing. It's not important."
"Tell me," I growl, spinning her around in my arms. We aren't even dancing at this point. We're just standing still in the middle of the dance floor while everyone else moves around us. I don't give a fuck.
"What if I want to be married first?" she whispers like she's giving away state secrets or something.
Shit. Does she want to be married first? Is that what she's saying?
"You want to be married before you have sex, Éire?"
"I don't know. Maybe." She shrugs, avoiding my gaze. And then she giggles. "Too bad this isn't Vegas, and late-night weddings are off the table, huh?"
"Hey, lovebirds!" Asher shouts from the side of the dance floor. "Food's up."
"Oh, food!" Ireland says, instantly forgetting the conversation. She turns toward Asher.
I place my hand on her arm, halting her. "Ireland."
"Food," she says.
I drop the subject, following her toward the booth. Somehow, I manage to chat back and forth with everyone while we eat, but my mind keeps running back to what she said. Not about her wanting to be married first, but the late-night wedding part. She's willing to marry me. And I know damn well she didn't say it just because she wants to sleep with me.
She didn't hold onto her virginity this long just to get hitched spur of the moment to give it up. If she's thinking about weddings and sleeping with me, it's because she knows I'm her one.
She's falling for me.
"I'll be right back," I say, slipping out of the booth. I have some calls to make. If my girl wants a late-night wedding, she's getting a late-night wedding. And if she regrets it in the morning?
Well, I'll just have to make damn sure she doesn't regret it in the morning.
Chapter Four
IRELAND
I stretch my arms and groan, slowly blinking my eyes open. My head doesn't immediately start pounding, which is a good sign considering how much tequila I drank last night. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
After the concert, we all went out to a local bar. Except everyone disappeared within half an hour, leaving me and Crue to our own devices. I decided tequila was the best way to handle the situation.
Probably because Crue kept looking at me like he wanted to eat me instead of his burger. And I kept thinking about what he said in his room yesterday. The man of my dreams isn't turned off by the fact that I'm a virgin. In fact…he seems to like the idea. A lot.
I giggle, fighting the urge to squeal into my pillow like a lunatic.
"What are you laughing at this early, sweet girl?" Crue groans, sliding an arm around my waist.
I squeal, flipping over so fast I manage to elbow him and kick myself at the same time. Sure enough, he's in my bed, watching me from hooded eyes. Shirtless and rumpled.
"You're in my bed. Why are you in my bed? And where are your clothes?" I pull the covers up, checking to see if he's completely naked. I don't know why. I'm curious and panicking, and it seems like a good idea. Until I see his erection tenting the front of his boxers. I quickly drop the covers back into place.
And then my eyes catch on the simple platinum band adorning my ring finger. And the matching band on his. They weren't there yesterday. I choke on my tongue, wheezing as the floodgates open and memories from last night pop into my head in a giant parade.
Shots of tequila. Grinding on the dance floor. Talks of a late-night wedding. Him pulling me aside to tell me he had a judge on standby, all I had to do was say yes. Me laughing as we slipped out the back hand in hand.
A late-night wedding seemed like a good idea with my panties soaked and tequila clouding my mind. If we were married, we could have sex, and it wouldn't be bad. That's what my drunk brain seemed to think.
Apparently, his drunk brain agreed because we freaking got married.
It's not even like we maybe got married. We for sure got married because I remember signing the license. And I definitely remember him slipping a ring on my finger.
I even remember kissing him at the end.
Oh my god. Shelby is going to kill us.
"It's our bed," he growls. "And you invited me into it when you agreed to marry me last night, Ireland."