“Well, now my feelings are hurt, Mrs. MacTavish. Ye remember the drinking game but not our wedding vows?” He crosses his arms over his thickly muscled chest and impossibly, the sight of his gorgeously sculpted pectorals is making at least part of me - the lower half - sit up and take notice.
“How could we possibly get married?” I ask peevishly, “We’re inDenmark,not Las Vegas!”
“Denmark is sometimes called the Las Vegas of Europe. Ye dinnae have to be a citizen or even stay in the country longer than a day or two. Ye just file the papers and a civil registrar or a priest from the Danish People’s Church can marry ye.”
“It canna be that easy,” I snap, “and when did we decide this was a good idea?”
My disordered memory chooses that moment to reform just enough to remember a room with brightly colored murals and gilded pillars… and an amused, sleepy looking man saying,“I kan nu dele jeres første kys som mand og kone…”
“What did the guy say at the end?”
Logan rubs the back of his head, not looking at all like this is an appalling thing. “He said, ye may now share your first kiss as husband and wife.”
“Ye speak Danish, too?”
“Enough to know the registrar was giving us a proper ceremony.”
“Okay…” My brain feels like it’s rattling around my skull and coherent thought is almost an unbearable challenge. “But how did we go from getting shite-faced to gettingmarried?”
“We were talking about the enthusiastic consent thing. I was kissing ye. Ye had my shirt off and then…”
“And then what?” I ask hoarsely.
He tilts his head and gives me the filthiest possible grin. “We decided to do it right by getting married first. I thought it would be dirtier if we did it as husband and wife-”
“Why would it be dirtier?”
“I canna tell ye what the feck we were thinking but it seemed to make sense last night. Ye know how Drunk Logic works. I called our contact in the DSIS - he owes me a favor, after all - and he called up a registrar and expedited our paperwork.”
“Expedited our paperwork?” I say skeptically.
“It usually takes a week or so.” He shrugs. “But we were in a hurry, so…”
“This canna be happening. You- I- no. This is ridiculous. This is mad behavior! We canna bemarried!”I’m edging across the bed and contemplating making a break for it. The door to our suite is a fair distance but I could sprint it…
“Hey now, hold on, sweetheart.” He grabs my ankle, pulling me back. “You’re in a state. Give it a minute.”
It’s then that I realize how very sore I am. My center’s throbbing, not in an unbearable way, but clearly indicating my lady bits have seen some considerable action recently.
“We had sex.” I bury my face in my hands.
“Three times,” he supplies helpfully. “On the couch in the main room. This bed. The shower. Almost in the hot tub on the balcony but ye were falling asleep and I was concerned about ye drowning so…” He runs his big toe along my leg and I slap it away.
Ah hell. I can remember it now. Most of it, anyway. Ripping at each other’s clothes with a satisfying level of urgency and the feel of him inside me, huge and hard, angling his hips and stroking that piercing against my G spot. Me bouncing up and down on him and rubbing my clitoris against…
“Ye have two piercings.”
“Aye.” He grins and leans closer. “Top of my cock and one at the base. Ye seemed very fond of that one when you were grinding that perky little clit of yours over it.”
“That’s enough of that, thank ye. This ring, this diamond, it’s bigger than my head! Where did ye find a ring at… when did we get married?”
“Around two am, I think.” He ruffles his hair and unfairly, it looks even better. “I had a jeweler meet us at the city hall with a few choices.” He holds up his left hand, showing off a thick ebony band. “Ye picked this one for me, ye said it was rugged and manly, like me.”
“This is in no way making me feel better,” I moan. “What do we do now?”
“What do ye mean?”
“Well… I mean…” I’m floundering here. “How do we reverse this?”
