Page 23 of The Bloke

Whoever’s place this was, it was massive. The bedroom alone was the size of my entire studio apartment. This couldn’t belong to the man from the show. There is no way a male revue dancer could make enough to live in a place like this.

I must have gone home with someone else…

The thought alone of leaving anywhere with a complete and total stranger who I didn’t even remember meeting made my throat close. Bile burned the back of it as my pulse started to race.

The sliding glass door behind me opened, and I jumped in surprise at the sound before turning to see who was entering the bedroom from outside.

“Morning, love.” A heavily accented voice, one that no amount of alcohol or bad hangover could ever erase, gave me a brief moment of relief that was immediately overshadowed by the realization thatI did go home with him.

Colby stood leaning against the doorway wearing nothing but low-hanging grey sweatpants and a wolfish smirk. “Or I guess I should call you something else now… wife, perhaps?” He chuckled, pushing himself off the doorframe and stalking toward me from across the room, his muscles flexing with every step.

Fuck he was gorgeous, and I was a goddamn hungover trainwreck who couldn’t remember a thing that happened over the past twelve hours.

Did we?Of course, we did. I didn’t just sleep naked in his bed and not let him fuck me.Oh, drunk Sienna… why do you do this to yourself?

I pulled the sheet up higher around my body as his bright blue eyes stripped me bare.

This was all just a very lucid and fucked up dream. I wasn’t here, and I wasn’t married to—to him.

My heart was near beating out of my damn chest the closer he got. It was just a dream, and I would wake up in my bed, most likely covered in vomit from all the alcohol.

As I backed away from his approach, Colby stepped into me, caging me against the door, his hands firmly gripping my hips, and he leaned himself into me. I pulled away, sinking my body as far into the door as I possibly could.

“What’s the matter?” He frowned, lifting my chin with his fingers so our eyes met.

“This—this isn’t real. We’re not—” I swallowed, unsure of what to believe, what to say.

The surreality of it all. Men like him didn’t just pick up random women from the bar, and they certainly didn’t marry them hoursafter…oh god, I let him fuck me with his fingers backstage…It was all coming back to me in bits and shattered pieces.

“It’s very real, and we are.” He attested. His confident smile melted my heart, and I felt like I was about to faint. “Come back to bed,” Colby murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear before taking my free hand and pulling me across the room with him.

I don’t know why I followed him. I couldn’t think between my pounding headache and the weight of the ring that now sat on my finger. Sighing heavily, I pulled my hand out of his and stopped just as he fell to sit on the edge of the bed facing me.

“No. We’re not married. I was drunk.” I admitted shamelessly, gripping the sheet covering me even tighter than before. “There is no way I could have consented to that.”

“Sienna—”

“Don’t call me that,” I shouted, cutting him off.

“Don’t call you what? Your name?” He gazed up at me with those beautiful blue eyes and scoffed sarcastically.

“You don’t even fucking know me.” I barked. No matter how drop-dead gorgeous he was. I couldn’t be married to this man. I knew nothing about him; he could be some fucked up serial killer as far as I was concerned. “I need to go home. Where are my clothes?… my phone?” I glanced around the room frantically, catching a glimpse of my shorts in the far corner.

Colby stood from the bed, towering over my five-five height as he pulled me into his hard, warm body. He was intense, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.

What could a man like him want with a nobody like me?

“You are home.” He softly laughed as if this was all just some stupid joke and I was messing with him.

He caught me off guard, and I needed to remember the woman I was, the one I was supposed to have turned myself into.

The fantasy ends here.

“Cut the shit, Colby. We aren’t married; there is no way this was even legal.” I run a hand through my hair, and he roughly grips my chin in his fingers, my eyes flicking to meet his.

Desire burned behind those bright blues; I saw him burning me alive in their reflection.

“Believe it or not, you and I are married. Legally.” He growled, and I could see his frustration with my denial of that fact. “You are my wife.”

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