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The Marriage Mistake: A Billionaire Hangover Romance by Natalie Knight, Daphne Dawn (25)

Chapter 24

 

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2:20 PM SATURDAY

 

She just stares at me, a look of confusion on her gorgeous face. I know I’ve said too much at once. I know she’s probably overwhelmed.

I mean, hell, she is supposed to be getting married today.

I can’t find it in me to regret a fucking word, though.

An enormous weight has been lifted since the moment I called her out. I’ve been carrying this shit around for way too long.

Really, I only wish I had said it sooner. Maybe if I had spoken up three years ago, we never would have gotten into this mess.

If I’d shown her the truth, we might be somewhere else entirely. Instead, I kept my fucking mouth shut. I let her forget.

I let her get engaged to fucking Eggbert.

Well, fuck Eggbert and fuck forgetting. I didn’t forget. I just walked around, head swarming with memories of her.

The way she tastes, the way she laughs when she’s actually happy, and the way she looks when she’s coming on my cock.

Yeah, I sure as fuck won’t ever forget that.

This time, I’m not going to let her forget, either. I move before she has time to think.

That’s the real problem here: Sammi’s always fucking thinking. Always calculating and rationalizing.

Enough.

Enough logic. Enough practicality.

My hands lock around her waist, pulling her to me in a rush. My mouth crashes against hers before she has time to speak.

I put everything into this kiss.

All my frustration, my pent-up feelings…all the love I feel for this ridiculous fucking woman. I kiss her like I’ve lost my damn mind.

Probably because I have.

But whose fault is that?

Her body tenses the moment my lips find hers, every inch of her tightening in surprise. I swear to God I can feel her fucking mind working.

I just kiss her harder, doing everything in my power to drive the damn thoughts away. I want her here, with me, nowhere else.

Let’s face it. Calm, rational Sammi has never gone for what she really wants. It’s a different girl entirely that I’m trying to lure out now.

I almost can’t believe it when I feel her relax. When her lips begin to move against mine, I finally have the confidence to loosen my grip around her and just coexist, letting our mouths dance together.

Fucking Sammi Brighton is kissing me back, and she’s not even drunk.

I’ve never felt this from her sober. I’ve never so much as tasted her tongue without the lingering flavor of tequila.

There’s not a trace of it now, though.

I’ve gotta say, even without the heavy tang of liquor, Sammi tastes fucking amazing. I pull her harder against me, desperately trying to eliminate any space.

Between us, I can feel my cock begin to throb. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but I want her now more than ever.

I fucking need her.

I release my frantic grip from her waist, letting my hands slide upward. My fingers glide over her ribs, settling on her unbelievable tits.

The way she feels makes me crazy.

Always has.

Despite the fact that she’s kissing me back, I’m still surprised when her hands begin to move as well.

They find my hips, fingers digging into my skin.

I most definitely should have spoken up three years ago.

I can’t actually believe how easy it was to break through to her, and I’m kicking myself for not trying sooner.

Her hands slide down, over my belt, trailing across my pants, into my pocket.

My fingers are in her hair, my tongue is in her mouth as her hand glides against my cock, mere fabric separating us.

I push against her, wanting her to feel every inch of my throbbing cock. Needing her to feel what she does to me.

She breaks contact so quickly, I almost continue kissing thin air.

That’s all I fucking need.

“Sammi,” I choke out, “look, darl—”

She raises her hand, cutting me off mid-sentence.

There’s a look on her face that I haven’t seen before. Some kind of elaborate play of mixed emotions. I have no idea what to make of it.

Maybe it’s because all the blood is still rushing to my cock, or maybe I really am just that enamored with her…but it takes me a ridiculously long time to figure it out.

As it is, it’s only the sound of jangling coming from her hand that clues me in.

I look down at myself, seeing the fabric of my now inside-out pocket.

It stands erect, a sad imitation of my throbbing dick.

It’s like the world’s worst magic trick.

That little sneak.

So the only reason she kissed me back was to get into my pocket.

The pocket where I keep my keys, of course.

“Sammi…

“Nope!” she says, turning towards my bike.

She swings her leg over, hands gripping the handles like a pro.

I could probably stop her, but I’m a little distracted by how sexy she looks straddling my ride.

Reminds me of all the times she’s straddled—

The engine roars to life, cutting my thoughts short.

“FUCK! Sammi, wait!”

She doesn’t even turn to look. She just pulls on the throttle and speeds away. Leaving me alone once again.

Surprise, surprise.

I growl in frustration.

I kick up some dust.

Really, there’s not much else I can do.

I’m now standing on the streets of Bangkok, minus Sammi and a bike.

Though I guess you can’t count out the raging hard on. I’ve still got that.

My mind has fully processed the fact that Sammi ran off.

My cock on the other hand, he’s still holding out hope.

I can’t help myself. I start to laugh.

Fucking Sammi.

Sammi has now turned me into a guy who stands on the sidewalk, laughing at thin air while his cock threatens to rip through his jeans.

I’ll probably be arrested any moment now.

The idea just makes me laugh harder.

By the time I’ve gotten myself back under control, I’ve received more than a few curious stares.

On the plus side, though, I can once again think straight.

To be honest, once I’ve thought it through, I’m not even a little bit mad.

Sammi just made out with me to steal my motorcycle.

Which is many things, not the least of which is fucked up. Also, though, it’s impulsive, it’s irresponsible, it’s definitely fucking crazy…

In short, it’s everything that Sammi is not.

Not sober Sammi, anyway. Not before today.

The thought makes hope fucking soar in my chest.

Normal Sammi is nothing if not the picture of practicality. She’s calm, she’s rational, she’s…well, she’s fucking infuriating is what she is.

Which means that the girl who just stole my bike for damn sure isn’t normal Sammi.

This girl is someone else entirely.

Bold, wild, rash.

This is the girl I love.

The g1irl who smiles while getting jabbed with a tattoo rod and licks the come off my fingers.

This is the real Sammi.

And without a drop of tequila on her breath to boot.

For the first time in a while, I’m feeling genuinely hopeful.

I start to walk, ignoring the stares of curious locals as I go.

I don’t want to get ahead of myself here, but I may have gotten through to her after all.

Something’s different, that’s for damn sure.

My feet move over the uneven pavement, kicking up dust motes as I go.

The smells of Bangkok mingle in the air, overwhelming yet somehow inviting.

A smile creeps across my face, and before I know it, I’m whistling.

Fucking Sammi.

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