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and she couldn’t speak.
    “It’s getting to be a habit with us, sharing kisses one or both of us forgets. But I intend to fix that right now and make damn sure you remember this one. On the bed where we spent our wedding night.”
    He lowered his face to hers. But he didn’t swoop in and blow her circuits with a kiss packed with tongue-thrusting power. No. He took his time. Whispering soft breath across her jaw. Letting his full, damp lips barely graze hers. Each almost connection of their mouths increased the rapid beat of her heart. Her breathing became erratic as her lungs emptied of air.
    Kyle’s roughly murmured “Breathe” was far sexier, far more in tune with her body’s response to his than she’d imagined.
    Then he rocked her to her core with a kiss so hot and sweet, so fierce and soothing, so completely unrestrained. She’d never been kissed like this. With all-consuming hunger. With pure eroticism. With a promise of total sexual fulfillment. Every pulse point in her body throbbed with anticipation.
    Kyle used nibbling kisses to ease the disconnection of their mouths. He pushed up and hopped off the bed.
    His cocky grin—completely justified—appeared quickly. “Come on, kitten, let’s hit the dusty trail.”
    Damn him for acting like he had the upper hand. Damn him for melting her brain and her resistance with those molten kisses.
    She slipped her purse strap over her shoulder. “We’re still getting an annulment.”

    Kyle was so lost in thought about Celia’s contradictory actions—reminding him of their friendship in one breath and then taking his breath away with such a passionate kiss in the next, that he didn’t notice Breck and his buddies hanging around the concierge stand until Breck started toward them.
    Kyle said, “Let me handle this.”
    “I don’t need you to speak for me.”
    “Then follow my lead, so we don’t get stuck in a pointless argument with him.” Kyle set his hand in the small of her back and brought her closer, expecting Breck would treat her as roughly as he always did, clamping his beefy arms around her, squeezing her in a bear hug, tossing her in the air like a rag doll. He wasn’t letting that happen.
    But Breck stopped five feet from them. His focus was concentrated on Celia’s head. “Sugar pie, what happened to your beautiful face?”
    She touched the bandage with her right hand. “Minor mishap with some livestock.”
    “But you’re okay? Where else are you hurt?”
    “My ribs are sore, but besides that, I’m fine.”
    “Good. You still look great.” Probably out of reflex, he reached for her hand. “I miss you.”
    “Breck. Don’t.”
    Breck only then seemed to realize Kyle was standing next to Celia. “Gilchrist. I’m surprised to see you here, bein’s you didn’t finish high enough in the standings in December to compete in the Country Showdown Expo.”
    No surprise Breck tossed out a barbed reminder of Kyle’s lackluster finish in the American Finals Rodeo—AFR—the previous month. “Guess I didn’t know I needed an official invite to come to Vegas.”
    Breck’s gaze zoomed between the two of them. As if something wasn’t quite right.
    Although Kyle had no idea how this Vegas marriage would play out, he wanted to rub it in Breck’s face that Celia was his, even temporarily.
    So he did just that. Kyle used his left hand to brush a hair from Celia’s shoulder. “You’ve got so damn much hair, woman.”
    Breck’s eyes narrowed first on the ring on Kyle’s hand and then on the matching band on Celia’s. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He looked at Celia. “Say it ain’t so.”
    Celia glanced at Kyle. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her ring finger.
    “How long has this been going on? While we were together?” Breck demanded of Celia.
    Immediately incensed, Kyle got up in Breck’s face. “Don’t put your shitty morals on her. Celia ain’t like that and you know it. Apologize to my wife, right