Waking up after partying all night with rock stars was a novel experience.

As was the throbbing headache and the overheated man furnace I was pressed up against. I couldn’t remember much after watching Kerry and Crosby sway around the dance floor for their first dance as a married couple, but my body remembered what had happened right before that.

In a fit of erotic bravery, I’d told Mason exactly what I wanted from him, and he’d dragged me off to a supply closet and showed me exactly what was so great about public quickies. It took less than three seconds for my anxiety to pass, which was exactly how long it took Mason to remove my green silk panties, shove them into his tuxedo jacket and slip his tongue between my soaked folds. After that I was all in, wrapping my legs around him while he fucked me up against the door. I should have felt ashamed, or maybe embarrassed that I’d behaved the way I did, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything but giddy. Brave. Satisfied.

It was the single hottest quickie of my life. Okay so it was also the only quickie, at least if you didn’t include a few quickdraw lovers in the past. But another question tugged on my brain.

“How did I get here?” I didn’t have a room reserved because I intended to drive back to Belle Musique after the reception ended.

Mason groaned and shifted, turning towards me and pulling me on top of him. “You can’t resist me, that’s how.” He thrust his morning erection up against me and I couldn’t fight the moan that slipped out. “And you’re already wet for me, Cupcake. Good morning to me.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed off his chest, intending to roll away, but the arch of my back combined with the thrust of Mason’s hips and his long, thick cock slipped inside easily. As easily as a thing that big could slip inside anywhere, that is. “Oh, yes!”

I knew there was something I was forgetting, but when Mason grasped my hips to hold me still and thrust up into me, the only thing I could think about was the way my skin tingled with heat and desire. The way he filled me so wickedly and the orgasm rushing its way to the surface. It was slow and deep, too intense for what this was. I mean, I didn’t know what it was other than mind-bogglingly good, but the intensity was uncomfortable. Deliciously uncomfortable. “So fucking tight, Cupcake.”

“So big and thick,” I panted out, and at my words Mason flipped our positions so he was on top, rooting deep as he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked so hard I swear, he pulled my orgasm out of me. “Mason!”

He reared up and tossed my legs over his arms, pounding hard and fast until he released his own roar of pleasure. “Cupcake, you undo me.”

I let my hands slide up and down his slick, hard muscled chest because the man’s body was a work of art in more ways than one. That’s when I noticed something weird.

“Where in the hell did this come from?” I held up my left hand and showed him the heavy silver band on my finger. On the ring finger.

“Maybe you bought it last night out in the Quarter.” He said it so easily, so nonchalantly which led me to believe he remembered more about last night than I did.

“The Quarter? When did we go out there, and why on earth would I buy a plain band and put it on this finger?” I asked because I refused to call it what it looked like. Absolutely refused.

“Settle down, Cupcake. It’s a souvenir.”

“Yeah, then why do you have one too?” My gaze slid to his left hand which currently gripped my right breast, and the silver band on his finger. That finger.

That got Mason’s attention. Finally. But he shrugged, seeming unconcerned. “It has to be a joke. No big deal.”

My shoulders relaxed. “You’re right. No big deal. Of course we didn’t get drunk-married. This isn’t Vegas, it’s New Orleans.” Yeah, that made sense. This was real life, not a romcom with Julia Roberts or Anne Hathaway. Real life. My real life, which meant not exciting or dramatic, or anything close to a romcom.

“Maybe the guys decided to prank us. Whatever happened, it wasn’t that. Trust me, Cupcake.”

I don’t know why, but I did. “You’re right.” Relief rolled through him as he rolled off me, leaving my body feeling empty and cool without his heat. “I think I’ll take a shower.”

“Want some company?”

Hell yes, I did. This thing with me and Mason couldn’t last. Wouldn’t go anywhere beyond another lost weekend like this, so I resolved to enjoy it. “Depends on what you have in mind,” I told him and slipped from the warmth of the bed. “Something dirty, I hope?”

“Just ask, Cupcake.”

I had a very particular shower fantasy I wanted to act out, and Mason was just the man for the job. I turned about a foot away from the door and grinned. “I’d much rather just show you.” My eyes slid down to his big, naked body and the way his cock thickened and grew had me licking my lips. “This is more of a show than a tell.”

“Cupcake,” he groaned and fisted his cock, which only made me hotter. And made me more aware of the moisture sliding down my leg.

Oh, shit. Condom. Or rather, a lack of a condom. “Um, Mason?” I diverted my gaze, wondering how in the hell to start a conversation like this. I wished I was one of those worldly women who could just casually toss it out there without nerves, but I wasn’t. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s the idea.” Mason’s voice sounded far away, like I was under water, because apparently there was something on this planet that was somehow more important than the fact that I’d just had sex without a condom for the first time in my life. With a man who I had no real relationship with.

“Remember that whole prank thing from earlier?” I turned to him with a serious expression and held up the blue and pink paper with a giant silver seal on it. “I don’t think it was a prank.”

Mason still looked unconcerned. “That definitely isn’t real, Cupcake so lets get back to the shower talk.”

I wanted to believe him, so I let my eyes scan the document, landing on both of our birthdays, lack of previous marriages and the waived waiting period until I saw the one thing that said this was no joke. “It’s signed by Judge Fontenot.” He’d officiated Kerry and Crosby’s wedding.

“All marriage licenses require a waiting period, Trish. It has to be a joke.” He stood and yeah, the sight of him naked and still hard was enough of a temporary distraction to make me forget the seriousness of the situation.

“Except it says here that Judge Fontenot waived it on account of we’re both Louisiana residents.”

Finally, the words sank in and Mason snatched the certificate from my hands, his green eyes taking in every word. Twice, based on how long it took him to go through it. “Hey Cupcake, if you wanted more of me, you only had to ask. Not get me drunk and then marry me.”

I smacked his rock hard midsection, turned away and locked myself in the bathroom before I turned the shower all the way to hot. I was married. To Mason.

The bane of my existence.

The best sex I ever had.

My husband.

How in the hell did that happen? Why can’t I remember?