I turned back toward the view from his hotel room and watched as he approached me. His massive shoulders and his chiseled chest and those abs I could do my damn laundry on. He placed his massive hands onto my shoulders and began to massage. His thumbs pressed deep into my muscles, pulling a moan from deep within my throat. I pressed my hand against the window and bent my head over, allowing him to work my shoulders and my neck slowly. Steadily. With a hint of—
My mind flashed. Visions of his hands on the small of my back. I saw the ceiling of the room. I felt something tickling my feet. Then, I felt those strokes on my calves. The same strokes with the same thumbs. Massaging up my calf. Up my thigh. In the crook of my leg.
“You gave me a massage last night,” I said.
I felt his hands still against my skin before they slid from my body.
“I did?” Everett asked.
“Yes. A leg massage.”
“It should shock me, but it doesn’t.”
“Do you remember that?” I asked.
I turned around and craned my neck back to look up into his eyes.
“I don’t.”
“Well, I just did,” I said.
“Was it a good massage?”
I snickered and shook my head before I groaned.
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
“We need to figure out what we’re going to do.”
“Can we freak out just a little while longer? I’ve got a little more freaking out in me.”
“You can freak out more later. But right now, my brothers are going to be up soon. And I don’t know about Jessica or anything, but…”
“Shit. Yeah. She’ll come and find me,” I said.
“So, we need to figure out what to do. What we’re going to do.”
“What is there to do? I mean, an annulment, for starters.”
“It would actually be a full-on divorce,” he said.
“What?” I asked flatly.
“In the State of Nevada, the grounds for annulment aren’t just ‘we got drunk and were stupid’. The state will annul a marriage same-day if we’re blood relatives, if the marriage required parental consent that wasn’t given, if consent between the two adults was fraudulently obtained, if one or both adults were mentally incompetent—”
“There. That one,” I said.
“Or if either of us are legally married to another person.”
“We can go the ‘we couldn't give consent’ route. Everett, we don’t even remember what we did. How could we have been in a state of mind to consent to a marriage?”
“Getting drunk doesn’t fall under those standards. Those rules are established in case someone is coerced. Or held at gunpoint. Or threatened in any way to get married to someone else. Those laws don’t protect people who get drunk and get married,” he said.
“How the hell do you know all of this anyway?” I asked.
“You were staring out that window a lot longer than you thought you were.”
“I was?”