Marital Bitch Read Online Free PDF Page B

seem this drunk in the chapel. Oh, hell. James backs away from Brad, still quite angry.
    “ Brad, don’t tell me that you plan on… plan on…” James’s face is turning bright red. Wow, he’s really mad.
    “Consummating the marriage? Bumping the ol’ uglies?” Brad asks. I think he wants a black eye. It’ll just be another story to tell his buddies at the station meanwhile James is shaking mad.
    “How else do you think I’m going to get your sister to pop out a baseball team for me, playing cards?” Brad continues to goad James, and we all just stand there completely shell shocked. We have nothing to say. There is nothing we can do.
    The four of us watch as James lunges at Brad who expertly dodges him. They are a formidable pair. They know one another’s moves as they’ve spent hundreds of hours sparring in the station’s gym. Before that it was in my parents’ living room. These two have been sparring since they could hold their heads up. This strange dance continues on for longer that I’m entertained by it. Eventually, Brad wears James down, and just like that, the hatch is buried. I try not to let it get to me—the fact that Brad doesn’t hold grudges with anyone else but me—but it still unsettles me.
    The night wears on and we gamble and drink. Brad tells everyone he sees that we just got married. The more we drink, the more I find myself falling for all of his stories. He tells the cocktail waitress that he knew he’d marry me someday the moment I developed boobs back in seventh grade. He tells the dealer that he’s looking forward to getting me back to the hotel. My skin heats at the thought; it’s an unfamiliar feeling. If Brad’s goal for the night was to convince me that he finds me appealing, he’s succeeded; but I can’t tell him that.
    FINALLY, A LITTLE after three, we make it back to our suite. James and Darla made it back about an hour ago. Adam and Lindsay disappear into their bedroom while Brad and I stumble, as quietly as possible, through the living room. Delusions and words of kindness aside, I decide that it would be improper for my new husband to sleep on the couch. I have no ulterior motives, I just want to cuddle.
    Honest.
    “Mr. Patrick,” I whisper-shout. Brad’s lips turn up into a goofy grin.
    “Mrs. Patrick,” he murmurs, pulling me close and nuzzling my neck. I’m caught off guard and I gently press myself against him. He feels heavy, and strong, and so, so good. He sighs in appreciation.
    “Stay with me tonight,” I whisper. Brad kisses my neck chastely. My response and inner musings are anything but chaste. For the first time since high school, I want to bed Brad Patrick. Regardless of how horrific our attempt at losing our virginity together was, I want to try again. We were kids—inexperienced kids—back then. Surely we could get it right this time.
    “You’re drunk,” he whispers, tickling my neck.
    “You’re drunker,” I state, firmly.
    “Am not,” ever the mature one, he argues.
    “You were stumbling outside of the chapel,” I think I’m making my argument. “That was hours ago, and you’ve drank a lot since.”
    “That’s what you do to me, pretty girl,” he breathes, hot and heavy, into my skin. “I fall all over myself when I’m around you.” My breath catches in my throat. He grip tightens around me in a possessive manner.
    “Hey,” he coos, “it worked. Your brother thought I was so wasted, he went easy on me.”
    “I thought that was real,” I mutter, feeling slightly better about his state of consciousness.
    “Are you trying to take advantage of me, Mrs. Patrick? Is that why you married me?” He’s grinning and chuckling against me. I slap his chest and pull him into my bedroom. I giggle when he agrees to spend the night with me. As attractive as he is in this moment, and as much as my hormones are going wild, I know that tempting him into making love to me would only lead to disaster. I decide to settle for falling