Ivy Oliver

I haven't seen him in six years . . . now we're married. When my best friend asked me to serve as her Man of Honor, of course I said yes. A trip to Vegas for the week before her wedding and then on to the Florida Keys for the nuptials was an added bonus. The icing on the cake was her brother, Colt. I didn't expect anything to happen. He's almost ten years older, aloof, mysterious, and devastatingly handsome. All the time I spent fantasizing about his powerful muscles, piercing eyes, hungry mouth, and grasping hands leave me tongue-tied and stammering every time I see him. I can't hold a conversation with him without picturing my hands running down his taut stomach to that perfect muscular V to grab at his belt buckle. Then one night the music was pulsing, the beat was pounding, and the next thing I know I'm in bed with my dream crush for a wild night of consequence-free pleasure . . . Almost. There's just that little problem of a drunken ceremony at an all-night wedding chapel just off the Strip and what happens after we say "I do" . . . Contains mature themes.