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I close my eyes for a beat and scrub a hand along my jawline only to remember I have new hardware there.

Fuck.

That fucker.

Maybe my new approach to dealing with situations will be to get into fights. Starting right the fuck now with West Motherfucker Sellers.

His version of getting it in writing was canceling our bet, and I’m the dumbass who didn’t check the receipts before I drunkenly walked down the aisle.

I think I’m going to be sick.

I wash my face and brush my teeth. I pull on some shorts and a shirt.

I need to get down to my kitchen to make that hangover cure. Stat.

I return to the bedroom and find Ivy still asleep. The white dress is on the floor, so I assume she’s naked under there.

I kneel down on the floor, and I gently shake her. “Ivy.”

“Hm,” she grunts.

“Ivy, babe, your alarm went off. You need to wake up.” I think about opening the blinds, but I know how bad light’s going to hurt.

Fuck it. I need her awake. We need to assess the damage here. I walk over to my drapes, close my eyes, and slowly open them. I squint as I open my eyes to the bright Vegas morning just as that same ridiculous alarm sounds on her phone again.

Fuck my life.

I force that sound off again, and I grab my phone so I can open a browser window and look up how the hell to wake up a heavy sleeper when she sits bolt upright.

“Oh, shit! What time is it?” She shoves the blanket off her body only to discover she’s naked, at least on the top half. Fuck, the little peek of those sweet tits is enough to stir my cock out of his hangover.

She yanks the blanket back up to cover herself, and her eyes are wide. “Aaaand I’m naked.”

“I’m guessing you just didn’t want to sleep in your dress.” I nod to where it lies on my floor.

She peeks under the covers and confirms it. “I have bottoms on. Oh my God, did we have sex?”

“I don’t think so,” I say. I’m not quite sure when to interject with the fact that I’m wearing a ring. My eyes dart to her hand. So is she. Just a silver band—one that matches mine. One we could’ve gotten out of a gumball machine for all I know.

But now’s not the right time, as evidenced by her next words.

“Thank God. Can you imagine? Waiting all this time, and I forget my first time.” She shakes her head, and I freeze as we both seem to realize what she just said at the same time.

“What?” I say, my eyes wide.

“What?” she repeats, trying to throw me off.

Oh, no you don’t. There is no throwing me off what she just said.

My cock thickens painfully.

“You’re a virgin?” I ask.

“I meant, uh, my first time with you.” She’s trying to cover it up, but she’s a terrible liar. Her eyes dart to the window, and then down to the comforter—anywhere but at me.

“No, you didn’t,” I say. “That’s not what you said. You’ve been waiting all this time?”

She sighs and sinks back into the pillows, resting a palm on her forehead. “I’m far too hungover for this conversation.”