Chapter 1 - Deanna

Ugh…  My entire body aches and my head is drumming like a whole marching band is in there. 

What did I do last night? 

Oh, yeah.  I was having fun with my friends at my bachelorette party. 

With my eyes still closed, I try to roll over, but my arm is pinned under something.  Something very heavy. 

Reluctantly, I slowly open up my eyes.  However, instead of my hotel room with all the streamers and wedding themed items strung everywhere, I find a bare room. 

What the heck?  Where am I?

Once again, I try to pull my arm out from whatever is holding it down.  But this time, as I tug, whatever is on top of it moves with me. 

What the heck?

I slowly turn my head towards my pinned arm. 

My eyes widen when instead of finding a heavy bag or other object, I find a bare back with broad shoulders.  When he moves, his muscles flex as if he is trying to show off how tone and fit he is. 

What the…

With alcohol still flowing through me, I swiftly raise my foot up between us and kick the man off the bed while I pull the sheets up to my chin.  I ignore the loud thud and subsequent moan, while I quickly try to remember what exactly happened last night. 

I know I let myself go a little crazy, but this is a little too crazy even for me. 

Images flash through my head of my friends and me dancing and having fun.  Not forgetting, I always had a drink in my hand and occasionally a few shots, which I’m still wondering why I drank that much.  I never let go like that. 

Wait.  Now, I remember.  Tiffany kept saying that I need to celebrate to the fullest.  After all, I will only get married once. 

I slowly shake my head.  Why did I even listen to her? 

Suddenly, the sound of a wedding march echoes in my head.  However, whoever is playing the piano either doesn’t know the notes or doesn’t care.  Why would anyone agree to have something like that play at their wedding? 

No sane person would. 

As a wave of panic washes over me, I frantically continue to try and remember anything from last night, but I can’t.  Most of my memories fade out shortly after the heavy drinking began.  After that, I can only get a few bits and pieces. 

No.  This can’t be happening. 

As I move my legs, trying to sit up, another frightening fact becomes apparent.  I’m naked.

No.  No.  No. 

This really can’t be happening. 

My thoughts are halted when a deep voice rings out and echoes through the room, “Honey, what did you do that for?  Last night, you wanted me closer to you and now you kick me off the bed.”

What did he just say?  I have to be hearing him wrong. 

As I turn my attention to the deep and husky voice, my mouth nearly drops to floor as a tall muscular man stands completely naked close to the bed.  His blonde hair sticking up in all directions, while his manhood stands at attention almost begging for attention. 

As he continues to stand there in his full glory, he rubs his butt and pouts.  My eyes scan across his tone body and are instantly pulled to the various hickeys scattered everywhere, including one on the inside of his leg. 

Someone please tell me that this is a bad dream.  I didn’t do that, right?  I’m getting married today.  I can’t be having sex with someone else. 

However, the soreness in between my legs slightly answers my question.  

When he finally looks up at me and his crystal-clear blue eyes come into view, I almost let a faint gasp out.  I have never met anyone with such breathtaking eyes before. 

Wait.  What am I saying? 

Then his words come rushing back to me. 

With the power of alcohol still coursing through my veins, I sit upright, with the sheet held tight to my chest, and growl, “Don’t you dare call me honey.  I’m not your honey.”

A crease forms along his forehead as he stares at me.  His eyes almost begging me to tell him I’m kidding.  However, I don’t give in to him.  Shoot.  I don’t even know him. 

Once again, the alcohol takes over and while ignoring the growing thumping in my head, I hiss, “I don’t let anyone call me that except my fiancé.  Only he can call me that.”

The tall, handsome man slowly shakes his head and takes a step towards the bed.  “No.  Your husband can call you that.”

My breath hitches as he takes another step, but the liquor again fuels my actions. 

I stand on my knees and nod.  “That is correct.  Only my husband can call me honey, babe, sweetheart or anything like that.”

A smirk spreads across his face as he takes another step towards the bed.   In a low and seductive voice, he replies, “That’s good, because I’m your husband.”

What?  No.  I haven’t gotten married yet.  I’m supposed to get married today. 

Suddenly fragments of images appear in my mind.  A small church.  The awful wedding march music.  The vows.  The gold rings.    

The gold rings. 

I quickly glance down at my hand and gasp.  A plain gold band shimmers in the dim light, while the cold metal against my skin affirms that this is real. 

What have I done? 

I slowly shake my head.  This has to be some crazy dream.  No.  More like a nightmare. 

The bed dips as the man puts his knee down on top of it. 

I quickly glance up at him and snort, “No.  I’m going to marry my husband today and you’re not him.”

His smirk grows bigger as he shakes his head.  “Oh, I’m most certainly him.  I’m legally your husband.  I have the marriage certificate to prove it.  There is nothing you can do about it.”

What?  Nothing I can do. 

I grit my teeth and glare at him.  “Yes, there is.  I’ll get it annulled.  Nothing is going to stop me from marrying my fiancé today.  You hear me.  Nothing.”

His smirk doesn’t falter as he shakes his head.  “You can’t.  We’ve consummated our marriage.” 

He takes another step towards me. 

My mind suddenly gets stuck on one word, consummated. 

No.  I wouldn’t cheat on Brett.   I wouldn’t. 

He leans in and his face hoovers right in front of mine.  With a teasing tone, he adds, “And you enjoyed it.  Sometimes even begging for more.”

What? 

My blood instantly boils and before I know what I’m doing, I slap his cheek.  The sound echoes in the room, while I roar, “I don’t care what you say.  I’m going to divorce you.  This is a mistake.  This didn’t happen.”

As his cheek turns red, his once gloating smirk morphs into a frown.  He closes the little remaining distance between us and in his deep voice, he says, “Oh, but it happened.  My body is littered with the evidence.”

No.  I don’t want to hear it. 

I pull my hand back, but before I can slap him again, he grabs my wrist and tightly grips it.  However, I’m not going down without a fight.  My body moves on its own as I shift my weight to one leg, while I swiftly bring the other knee up and right into his crotch. 

He immediately lets go of me and falls onto the bed, groaning in pain. 

Before he can stop me, I bolt off the bed and grab my clothes.  I don’t care whether he sees me or not right now.  I need to get out of here, and fast. 

I get dressed on the run and dash through the room, finding my things.  In record time, I’m out of the room and off to meet my friends. 

I have a wedding to get to. 

As I’m running through the hotel’s hallways, a few lingering questions keep circling around in my mind. 

What am I going to tell my friends?  And what am I going to tell Brett?