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Her Kensington: A British Billionaire Romance (The Cocktail Girls Book 2) by Tracy Lorraine (1)



My head pounds as I roll over. Pressing my palm against my heated forehead, I take a few deep breaths and will the pain to subside. Images of last night’s champagne hit me just before a much more vivid memory.

Fighting the effects of my hangover, I prop myself up on my elbows. The bed’s empty. My heart races; was it all just a dream? Did he not come back for me? But why was I here in this fancy suite?

Slowly, I look around. My breath catches as my eyes land on who I was expecting to find lying next to me. Only, he’s sitting on the chaise at the end of the bed wearing a pair of boxer briefs and staring at me with an amused smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. My mouth waters as my gaze drops to his muscular chest.

When I make it back up to his face, his smile widens and a cheeky glint appears in his eyes. “What?”

“Nothing. Just admiring my beautiful wife.”

A cough bubbles up my throat as confusion engulfs me. “Your what?” I ask after clearing my throat once again.

His amusement gets the better of him and as he rises from the chaise, a smile splits his face, making dimples appear in his cheeks.

“My wife,” he repeats possessively, crawling up the bed towards me. “Do you need a reminder of last night?” His eyes stay on mine and tingles shoot around my body from that alone.

“Uh…” My words trail off as I’m suddenly assaulted with memories. Finding Harrison in this suite, the mind-blowing sex that followed, and the champagne—oh, the champagne! My stomach turns over at just the thought of drinking any more. I remember leaving the hotel with him, but everything’s a bit of a blur after that.

“You weren’t lying when you said you didn’t drink, were you?”

“Harrison…did we…did we really get…”

Pulling the covers away from me, he finds my left hand before bringing it up in front of my face. “We really did.” I stare at the shiny silver wedding band now circling my ring finger. My eyes widen as he shows me a matching one on his hand.

“Holy shit,” I gasp, moving away from him. I sit up so quick it makes my head spin to the point I think I’m going to puke. He shifts around behind me and when I look over my shoulder, he’s sitting back against the headboard with an unreadable expression on his face.

Turning away from him again, I rack my brain for any kind of memories from what was apparently my wedding night, but I’ve got nothing.

“I’ll just be a few minutes.” Unable to compute what he’s just told me, I plod towards the en suite to at least brush my teeth before we have the rest of this conversation….in which my husband has to tell me all about our wedding.

What the fuck have I done? Yes, I was regretting not being more spontaneous and not getting on that flight to be with him, but marrying him the second he reappears is crazy. Isn’t it?

I’m deep in thought, staring at myself in the mirror when the door suddenly flies open. Harrison stands in the doorway with a serious look on his face, his whole body tense.

“What’s wrong?” It comes out as a weak whisper. I’m already feeling uneasy about what I can’t remember; I don’t need him acting weird as well.

“Nothing,” he says, marching into the room. His hands go to my waist when he reaches me and he pushes me backwards until I crash into the tiled wall in the shower. Heat pools between my legs from the possessive look in his eyes. He stares down at me the entire time. The heat and intensity ensure tingles erupt in my lower belly as anticipation washes through me. “You’re mine, Summer. You’re my wife. I won’t have you locking yourself in here to freak out.”

“I wasn’t, I was just…”

“Freaking out.” His hands come up to rest either side of my neck before he lowers his head and his lips find mine. I sigh the second his taste explodes on my tongue and I’m reminded of everything that’s between us. That instant attraction I haven’t been able to shift since the second I crashed into him a couple of weeks ago. Even the distance between us, while he was in London, didn’t lessen the effect he has on me.

Harrison kisses a line across my jaw and down my neck until he licks over my collarbone.

“Fucking missed this body,” he mutters as he continues over the swell of my breast before sucking my nipple into his mouth and making my head fall back against the tiles. My breathing becomes erratic with my impatience.

I expect him to come back up but he does the opposite and drops to his knees in front of me. He pushes my feet apart before opening me up and putting his tongue exactly where I need it, against my pulsing core. We may have had sex god knows how many times last night but it’s not enough. It’s never enough with him.

“Oh, god,” I moan as he teases my clit.

“I want to feel you coming,” he says, the vibrations of his voice helping to push my release closer. His finger teases my entrance and it’s the final push I need. I fall apart while he continues sucking at me, milking every last ounce of pleasure from my body.

“Now, I need to be inside my wife. I need to make her mine.” Butterflies explode inside me. It may not have been what I was expecting to wake up to this morning but for some reason, it feels so right.

His boxers are gone before I have a chance to blink, and he lifts me and presses me into the cold tiles as if I weigh nothing. He wraps my legs around his waist and in seconds he’s pressing into me.

“Mine,” he repeats when he’s fully seated. Pulling back, he stares at me, the look in his eyes makes my breath catch. The heat, hunger and the possession reflected back at me would be enough to make my knees weak if I were using them.

Something tells me that belonging to Harrison is no bad thing.

His thrusts pick up speed as he sucks on my neck. I scratch at his back and shoulders as I try to get him deeper, my second orgasm growing within me.

“Harrison,” I whimper.

“Let go, let me feel you.”

At his demand, I fall apart. My muscles clench tightly around him, making him grunt as his own release crashes into him.

“Do you think many couples consummate their marriage in the shower?” he grunts into my neck as he continues to thrust slowly into me.

“What?” I was under the impression I was too drunk to remember that as well. “Didn’t we…”

“No, you passed out once we got back to the room. Getting you out of your wedding dress wasn’t anywhere near as sexy as I hoped it would be.”


“I’m going to make you remember, you know?”

“How’s that?” she asks sleepily, still dazed from her multiple orgasms.

Turning the water on, I push her back under it. “We’re going to relive it.”

“Tell me everything.”

“Okay.” I grab the shampoo and start washing her hair as I think back to the night before. “Do you remember going to the casino?”


“Well after our first bottle of champagne, you suggested making the most of Vegas, so we went down and played some slots. You said you wanted to do something with me that you’d not done since moving here.” She nods like she remembers. “We were on a bit of a losing streak but it didn’t stop you raising the stakes. You told me that if I won on the next spin, you’d marry me and move to London.”

She sucks in a breath as her eyes widen in surprise. “I said that?”

“You did. And guess what?”

“You won.”

“I certainly did, beautiful.”

“But you knew I was drunk, right?”

“I thought you’d remember, if that’s what you mean.”

“So what happened next?” she asks eagerly.

“I scooped up the winnings, grabbed your hand and we ran out of there. We made our way towards a little chapel where I bought you a dress and our rings, and no more than thirty minutes later we were husband and wife.”

“Oh god,” she groans, dropping her face to my chest.


“Please tell me Elvis didn’t marry us.” I can’t help but laugh at her as she peeks up at me.

“No, Elvis didn’t marry us. Just some woman dressed in normal clothes. I’m sure she’s in the photos.”

“There are photos?” Her eyes light up in delight and my heart melts. Last night was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.

“Of course. You don’t think I’d marry the woman of my dreams without getting evidence?”

“I can’t believe they allow people to get married when they’re drunk,” she mutters as I rinse the conditioner from her hair, the soft blonde lengths falling easily through my fingers. I begin to harden again as images of my fingers tangled in her hair for another reason entirely fill my head.

“This is Vegas.”


Last night might not have been planned. I came back here with the intention of not leaving again unless she was by my side but a shotgun, drunken wedding was definitely not on the cards. My mum’s going to be pissed, I think as I grab the shower gel from the shelf and rub it over her gorgeous curves.

“Getting ready for round two?” she asks when my now fully erect cock bobs between us.

“Damn right, Mrs. Abbot.”

“That sounds so weird.”

“Good weird?”

“Weird, weird. I woke up married.”

“Well, what did you expect when you moved to Las Vegas?”

“Not this, that’s for sure.”

“You mean you didn’t expect to fall in love with an English man and have a drunk wedding?”

“Nope, neither of those were on my to-do list,” she admits with a laugh. “So what’s next for us then, husband?”

“Oh, I’ve got some plans.”

“Is that right?”

“It sure is, beautiful,” I say with a wink as I run my hand down her stomach and find her as ready for me as I am for her once again.