The bride and groom had eyes only for each other.
He and Beth were a few steps away from the exit when the real Elvis' voice blared through hidden speakers.
“I can't help falling in love with you…”
Little Elvis lowered the music's volume with a remote. “You may now kiss the bride.”
Beth stopped moving and jerked Hank to a stop. Stretching, she wound her arms around his neck.
Before he even processed what was about to happen, her lips were on his and his body overruled his better judgment. As soon as her soft, full lips grazed his, Hank forgot who he was. Forgot where he was. Forgot the people who were chasing them. Forgot why Beth was off limits.
Lightning bolts shot through his body when her tongue snuck between his lips and tangled with his. Everything from the neck down turned into heavy, molten want. Her body pressed into him, the thin material of her blue dress taunting him and emphasizing his inability to touch her smooth skin.
Too soon Beth pulled away, grinning vacantly as only the drunk can do. “Let's go have a honeymoon.” She led the way out the exit.
Stunned and iron hard, Hank followed her into the grungy hallway, thankful she had the wherewithal to stop. The door clicked shut behind them as they made good on their escape.
Taking one last glance out the one-way window that provided a view of the chapel and part of the lobby, he spotted two men. Dressed in baggy jeans, their faces covered by sunglasses and lowered baseball caps, they didn't look like they were there to get hitched. One looked like a linebacker, tall and square with no discernible neck. The other had an average build, but something about the way he held himself, with a barely reined-in aggression, pegged him as the more dangerous of the two.
The bigger man gestured toward the chapel door and a slow smile spread across his broad face, revealing a gold front tooth. Alarm bells in Hank's head clanged to life. He had no idea what was going on, but he didn't plan on sticking around to find out. Letting go of the doorknob, he grabbed hold of Beth's hand and hurried her down the
hall. Turning left, they followed the exit signs through the dark uncarpeted hallway with scuffed walls to a heavy door that opened into the alley.
Holding tightly onto Beth's hand, he tugged her toward the street, pausing as they reached the end of the alley. A quick look around the corner of the building revealed a deserted sidewalk in front of the Little Elvis Wedding Chapel. That meant the men were still inside, probably about to emerge from the same exit he and Beth had used. He wasn't about to wait around to confirm his suspicions.
“Stick with me. We have to get out of here now.”
“Whateva you say, husband.” Beth giggled, oblivious to the threat about to emerge from the chapel.
He hailed a passing cab and climbed inside after Beth, keeping his body between her and the chapel door. “The Palms. We're in a hurry.”
“Yeah, I felt the same way after each one of my weddings.” The female driver chuckled in the front seat and merged with traffic.
For once when he sat next to Beth, tension rather than lust locked his muscles tight. He didn't know why those guys were following them, but something bad was going down.
No way could he leave Beth alone at her hotel. She was coming back with him and he was going to find out what the hell was going on.
Chapter Eleven
Who’s following you and why?” Hank watched as Beth tossed her glasses on the nightstand and flopped onto the king-size bed in his hotel room, wishing like hell he could join her.
Her brown hair fanned outward, contrasting with the crisp white of the comforter. It reminded him of a black-and-white cookie, but it wasn't his stomach that was hungry for her. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to give his hard dick some more room in his black trousers.
“The only man following me is you, all the way from Dry Creek just to marry me. How romantic.” Beth giggled and extended one long leg his way, revealing a mind-boggling amount of upper thigh.
On her foot was some type of impossibly high-heeled shoe. She pointed the opened-toed red shoe at him, revealing glittery, hot-pink-painted toenails. “A little help pleash, hubby.”
Pulled forward like a deer to a saltlick, he grasped her ankle and went to work on the thin strap of material circling it. “We’re not married.”
“You’re so funny.”
“Answer the question. Who’s following you?”
“Your fingers feel so good.”
Fuck. Staring down at the long leg in his grasp, he accepted that he wasn’t going to get any information out of her right now. He marveled at the smoothness of her leg and the strong calf muscle hidden underneath her soft skin that flexed as she rotated her foot. His cock twitched in response.
She hiccupped twice before giggling again.