Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
He was drinking last night, too. What happens when reality sets in and he realizes this isn't just a fun little story to tell, but something we really did? When the press finds out and plasters our faces all over the news? Is he going to regret it? Is he going to wish he'd never met me?
I don't want to be something else in his life he regrets. Or something else in his life that feels out of control to him. I want to be fair to him. Just because this is my dream doesn't mean it's his. Letting him go will shatter my heart into a million pieces, but I can't ask him to keep whatever crazy vows we made last night just because I want to keep him.
Besides, in my dreams, he chooses me because he can't live without me. He wasn't even freaking sober when he married me last night. That isn't the stuff dreams are made of, or happily-ever-afters are built on.
That's all I was trying to say. But I guess I said it wrong because now he's all cranky and growly.
"You signed the paperwork," he says, stopping in front of me. He plants one hand on the wall over my head, hooking his finger under my chin to tilt my head back with the other. "You're stuck with me now, baby. Get used to it."
"You're insane, Crue. You know that, right? I'm offering you a chance to walk away from this whole thing a free man and you're saying no?" I gape at him like he's lost his mind. "There's no way you want to sleep with me that freaking badly."
"You think I married you because I want to fuck you?"
"I…" I shake my head. "No, of course not. I think you married me because you were drunk, and we both make insane decisions when tequila is involved."
"I wasn't drunk."
"What?"
"I wasn't drunk, Ireland. You were drunk. I wasn't."
"I…don't understand," I admit.
"It takes a whole helluva lot more alcohol to get me drunk than it does to get you wasted, baby," he murmurs with a grin. "I was sober."
"You weren't drunk?"
"Nope."
I process this news for a moment.
"You were sober, and you still married me?"
"Yep."
"Are you crazy?" I shout.
"Yeah, about a sassy little redhead." He smirks, his eyes dark with desire as they rake down my body. "She's been driving me out of my fucking mind since I set eyes on her."
"You…I…you…" I splutter, pushing him away from me. "I'm so mad at you!"
I'm not sure that's true, but it seems like the right thing to say, considering that he just sent my entire universe freewheeling into Never Never Land. He was sober, and he still chose to marry me. What in the heck was he thinking? And why do I want to kiss that stupid smirk from his face right now?
"You wanted to stay out of the tabloids, Crue! This is not how you stay out of the tabloids! This is how you end up on the front page of every magazine in the country, including the ones usually reserved for aliens. Oh my gosh. We're going to knock aliens off the front page of the super trashy tabloids." I press my palms to my cheeks, trying not to spiral even though I'm already spiraling.
"Baby," he laughs. "It's fine. Everything is fine."
"Everything is most definitely not fine." I glare at him as I march around the room, gathering up my stuff. I need to think, and I cannot think when he's shirtless and staring at me. "I'm going to see Shelby."
"Let me get dressed. I'll go with you."
"No!" If he's there when I tell Shelby we're married, Shelby may kill him. I'll be a wife and widow on the same day. And we'll be halfway through his funeral by the time the world finds out we got married. None of that sounds like a good time to me. "I need to tell her alone."
"Fine." He narrows his eyes on me. "But if you even think about taking that ring off, our wedding won't be the only thing in the papers, Éire."
"What does that mean?"
"It means keep your ring on." He snags me around the waist, dragging me up against his hard body. His mouth comes down on mine in a hard kiss. "Or I will tell the whole goddamn world we're married at the show tonight."
"You wouldn't."
He smirks down at me, far too freaking hot for words. "Try me, sweet girl."
I gulp, pretty sure he means it.
Holy crap. What did I get myself into?
Chapter Five
Ireland
"We need to talk," I say, dropping heavily into a chair at the table the girls have secured in the swanky restaurant downstairs. Thankfully, none of the guys are present, and aside from an elderly couple on the far side, the place is otherwise deserted. We get to have this conversation in private.