Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Beck rushed forward and shoved at the guy’s shoulder, breaking his hold on Chloe.
“What the fuck?” the man asked, his gaze going from the woman in the wedding gown to Beck. “She invited me. She came into the bar earlier and said she wants to party. I was just showing her a good time.”
Beck frowned, realizing Chloe’s non-wedding could get out of hand. “Well, she changed her mind, and she isn’t interested in what you’re offering. Get lost or I’ll have you thrown out.”
“I don’t need this shit.” The guy glared at Chloe before he turned and strode out.
One crisis averted, Beck thought.
Chloe grasped his arm and sighed. “Thank you. You’re my hero!” She lifted her arms and flung herself against him, giving him a nose full of her fruity-smelling hair. Once again her soft curves crushed his chest, tempting him, and his dick reacted.
Down, boy, he thought, because Chloe was in no frame of mind to fall into bed with a virtual stranger. It would be no better than taking advantage of her, and Beck would never stoop so low. Not to mention, he’d had a sister and he’d kick the ass of anyone who’d exploited her.
He looked overhead and saw his brothers having fun with the bridesmaids. They seemed fine and could take care of themselves. Catching Tripp’s gaze, he mouthed he was leaving and his brother nodded.
Beck braced his hands on Chloe’s waist and eased her away from him, looking into her glassy eyes. Yep, time to get this bride to bed.
“Come on, princess,” he said because that’s what she resembled. A fairy-tale princess. “Time to go. I’ll take you home.”
Her lower lip trembled, the first sign of outward fragility and hurt she’d shown since targeting him in the lobby. “I don’t have a home. All my things are in boxes. I was going to move them into Owen’s house after the wedding.”
“Owen the douchebag, huh? Okay, then how about your mom’s?” Her father had passed away a few months ago from a heart attack. While most people in the industry had shown up for the funeral, Beck had passed.
“Owen the douchebag.” She giggled at his description. “And no, I’m not going to my mother’s with my tail between my legs like a little girl.” She shook her head back and forth. “Nope. Not happening.”
He groaned. “One of your brothers, then?” And he’d better not have to show up with her on Linc’s doorstep.
She shook her head again, her expression adamant. “Either they’ll say I told you so or they’ll hover.”
Obviously neither option appealed to her.
“Don’t worry though. I have a plan,” she said, surprising him. “We’d rented the honeymoon suite for the night. I’ll just crash there.”
She started to walk away, but if this were a sobriety test, she’d fail in a heartbeat. She wobbled her first few steps, tripped, and he darted forward, making a split-second decision before she took a header onto the floor. Lifting her, he adjusted her until she was more secure. Her delicate arms wrapped around him, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck and shoulder.
“I’m tired.” Her lips moved against his skin, her breath warm against his flesh.
At the arousing sensation, his entire body shook with need. “Fuck,” he muttered as he walked, ignoring the stares as he carried her out of the ballroom.
“Can we?” she asked without lifting her head from his shoulder.
He stifled a groan. “No. You’re going to go upstairs to pass out cold.” Another man, the man he wished he could be, would take advantage of her just to show Linc Kingston what betrayal felt like.
But Beck had been raised right.
He stopped at the front desk and roused Chloe long enough for her to ask for her room key. Obviously they already knew her, and the bridal dress pretty much said it all. The man behind the counter handed over the key. And Beck made his way upstairs with the passed-out-again bride in his arms.
Chapter Two
Somehow Beck managed to open the door to the suite, carry Chloe inside, and finally set her down on the bed. She seemed to fall asleep immediately, her ball gown spread across the mattress, her ballet-slipper-covered feet peeking out from the hem. He slipped off the shoes and stared down at the passed-out bride.
He could leave her alone to sleep it off, but she might wake up frightened and not remember how she’d gotten here. His conscience told him not to abandon her on what was supposed to be her wedding night. After another glance at the vulnerable woman, he headed to the bathroom. The large counter with double sinks was also full of amenities, and he was able to brush his teeth before heading back inside.
Instead of still being passed out, she was sitting up in bed, surrounded by the layers of her gown, with mascara-stained tears streaming down her face.