Lucky Hook Up Read online

  Lucky Hook Up

  Lark Avery

  Copyright © 2019 by Lark Avery

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design by Talina Perkins

  Bookin’ It Designs

  Contents

  1. Amber

  2. Kellan

  3. Amber

  4. Kellan

  5. Amber

  6. Kellan

  7. Amber

  8. Kellan

  9. Amber

  10. Kellan

  11. Amber

  Epilogue: Amber

  Epilogue: Kellan

  Sneak Peek: Lucky Pick Up

  Meet Lark

  Also by Lark Avery

  1

  Amber

  The first thing that penetrated my consciousness was the pounding. Who on earth would be banging on my door this early? I started to open my eyes only to find it wasn’t the simple act I expected. My lashes were glued together and prying my eyelids apart took as much effort as deadlifting a hundred pounds over my head.

  I finally managed to wrench them open and blinked to clear my oddly blurry vision. I scooted my leg toward the edge of the bed with the intention of answering the door, and immediately regretted it. I swiftly squeezed my eyes shut again to ward off the stabbing pain shooting through my temples and to right my suddenly tilting world. Groaning, I lifted a hand to my head and slumped back on the pillows.

  I strained a little to listen for the knock to come again, but ever so slowly, reality intruded and I came to the realization that nobody was at the door. No, that pounding was taking place in my head. I must have the flu or something.

  The throbbing was so vicious, I could feel it in my eyeballs, and my mouth felt like I’d inhaled half the stuffing from my pillow. So weird. I never got sick. The last time I could remember feeling this awful…

  No!

  Ignoring the tilt-o-whirl spinning of the room and the mariachi band doing their thing in my head, I bolted straight up and took stock of my surroundings.

  Relief poured through me as I looked around and confirmed I was safe and sound in my own bed in the bedroom of my apartment. And even more importantly: I was alone.

  The last time I’d woken up feeling this way, I’d definitely had company. It was the morning after my twenty-first birthday. My life had changed a lot since then.

  But thankfully, there was no way in hell I’d be stupid enough to make that mistake again. I’d only done it the first time because I’d laid eyes on Kellan Sullivan from across a crowded room, and like something out of a romance novel, I’d fallen head over heels in love.

  Only in our case, the crowded room was the nerve-janglingly loud floor of a Las Vegas casino where cocktail waitresses doled out free gin and tonics like they came from a tap in the kitchen. And said crowded room with the freely flowing alcohol was located only steps away from at least a dozen twenty-four-hour wedding chapels that served up marriage like it was mac and cheese at an all you can eat buffet.

  My memories of the event itself were hazy at best, but I had a strong impression of repeating my wedding vows to a drag queen dressed as Marilyn Monroe while a dead ringer for Frank Sinatra stood by singing a medley of his songs. To this day, I cringed a little when I heard the song Luck Be a Lady start playing. And since it seemed like the anthem of every casino in Las Vegas, living here made it almost impossible to avoid.

  Thinking of the most humiliating forty-eight hours of my life, I struggled to sit up against my headboard and searched the bedroom with my gaze again. That had been the first and the last time I’d had more to drink than a glass or two of wine. And while my life might have gotten a bit wilder than it had been back then, I’d stuck to my two drink limit ever since. Until, apparently, last night.

  I searched my memory for what I’d done last night. I remembered going to work. I was the stage manager at the hottest burlesque club on the strip. One of the girls had called in sick. I could remember discussing shuffling performers around to fill her spot in the show. I wrinkled my nose and my head pounded as I tried to recall what came next.

  Oh, yeah. Someone had suggested I take her place. I’d seen every rehearsal, and I’d even filled in for a few of the chorus girls on occasion. But never one of the girls who spent most of the night on stage. And never for one of the girls who showed anything more than a little leg.

  But the spot that needed filling last night required being part of the chorus line where all the performers covered their chests with only large, feathered fans. At the end of the dance, the girls briefly dropped the fans, flashing their tits at the audience just as the house lights went down.

  It was barely enough time for anyone to really get more than a glimpse of anything, but burlesque was all about the tease anyway. There were other acts in the show where the girls showed a lot more skin, but that tantalizing glimpse of flesh always managed to bring the house down.

  I’d resisted at first, but then Shelly, one of the show’s veterans and star performers, teased me, calling out, “Come on, Amber! It’ll be fun. Besides, how long has it been since someone other than your doctor’s seen those tits?”

  She’d been teasing, but damn, she didn’t know how close to the truth she’d come. And even I had to admit, I had good tits. It really was a shame nobody but me, my doctor and the lookie-loos in the locker room at the gym had gotten a gander at them.

  I’d decided it was time to stop saving myself for a guy who had made it clear over two years ago that he had no interest in my tits or any other part of me. And that’s when I’d reached for the bottle of tequila the costume designer kept stashed backstage.

  Which brought me to now, confused and hung over and alone in my bed. I didn’t even remember flashing my girls at the audience. I huffed out a sigh and that’s when my gaze caught on my hand where it rested on top of my comforter.

  Holy shit! This had to be some kind of joke. Glinting up at me was a platinum wedding band. I pulled my hand closer to my face, squinting through my still bleary eyes at the ring that hadn’t been on my finger when I left for work last night.

  I wiggled the fingers of my left hand as I stared, open-mouthed at the hunk of jewelry adorning the ring finger. I must still be drunk. That was the only explanation. Because the more I gaped at that ring, the more it looked exactly like the ring Kellan Sullivan put on my finger two years ago.

  The same ring I’d ripped off my finger and thrown at his head as I exited his hotel room. Right after he told me not to worry, since we hadn’t consummated the marriage, he could easily get it annulled.

  “Inconceivable,” I whispered. I did another quick inventory of the room, but I was definitely alone. Then a thought occurred to me and I gripped the top of my comforter and lifted it to peer underneath.

  I was in my pink nightie and matching panties.

  I looked back at my hand.

  Yup. Ring was still right there. I flopped flat on my back again and squeezed my eyes shut tight as I dug through my hazy memories and came up blank.

  Then I realized what the ring on my finger along with the still present clothing meant. The confusion was quickly replaced with annoyance.

  “Damn it!” I didn’t have the strength yet to get out of bed, but that wasn’t going to stop me from ranting at the universe. “I’m probably the only twenty-three-year-old virgin on the face of the planet. And definitely the only twenty-three-year-old virgin who’s been married! If I got married again without losing my virginity, someone’s going to pay!”

  “Sweet Pea, I’d be more
than happy to help you with that.”

  I sat up with a shriek and my head collided with the head of the last man I ever thought I’d find standing over me in my bedroom.

  Kellan Sullivan. My ex-husband.

  I blinked and shook my head, but to no avail. It was all suddenly too much for my brain to process and darkness started to creep in on me, and I did something I’d never done before in my life. I fainted.

  2

  Kellan

  I stared down at the pale face surrounded by a halo of dark curls as I held Amber’s limp body in my arms. My gaze slid to her chest and seeing the steady rise and fall of her curves, I grinned. This wasn’t exactly the reunion I’d imagined with my wife.

  My wife. Two years I’d waited to get her back in my arms again. Two years where I’d clawed my way up through the ranks of my family’s company to prove to them I was worthy of claiming my seat in the boardroom. To prove to myself that I was worthy of this woman.

  I’d known the time was right when my brother, Braden, the CEO of our family’s real estate development firm, saw the numbers from Club Lucky. He hadn’t been on board when I first found the place and presented it as a potential investment for Sullivan Development. I’d had to convince him and our other brother and third partner, Quinn, to make the investment and let me take the lead in bringing Club Lucky to life. They’d made it clear that my having a seat on the board of directors hinged on the success—or lack thereof—of Club Lucky.

  They thought the seat on the board was the carrot they could dangle in front of me that would finally push me to get my act together and work hard. But they had no clue. I couldn’t care less about my position in the family company except that it meant I’d be able to take care of the woman I’d met and married in one night in Vegas. The woman currently in my arms was the only carrot I needed. Returning to her when I finally had a solid future to offer her was the driving force behind everything I’d done in the last two years.

  And after the huge success of Club Lucky in Boston, I knew it was time to make my move. I’d proposed opening a new location in Vegas. And while I’d had to fight to convince my brothers to open the first club, this time around, I’d finally proven myself an asset to the company. I was now on equal footing with Quinn and Braden. There was no need to deal and negotiate. My seat on the board was firmly established. They’d both easily agreed to check out sites for the new location. I knew the moment they said yes, the time had come. Time to reclaim my wife.

  Of course, the very last thing I’d expected to find my sweet, innocent wife doing when I finally returned to her was dancing in a burlesque show.

  I mean, I knew where she worked. There was no way in hell I’d have left her without a plan in place to keep an eye on her until I was ready to claim her.

  But all the reports I’d received had made it clear she was working as a stage manager. Never had it occurred to me she was taking part in the shows.

  I’d actually been to this show the last time I was in Vegas. It was before I’d met Amber, but I remembered quite clearly what happened at the end of that dance with the feathered fans. What red-blooded, twenty-something straight guy would forget getting a look at a dozen sets of the most perfect breasts he’d ever seen before?

  I’d arrived at the burlesque show last night with a strategy. I wasn’t the wild man who lived by the seat of my pants anymore. I’d come to appreciate the value of a well-calculated plan. I’d had it clear in my mind—approaching Amber after the show, convincing her to hear me out, laying things out for her. In my mind, the night would end with Amber in a bed, in my arms.

  I grinned as I looked down at her face now. We might have taken a different route to get here than I expected, but I couldn’t say I was sorry my plan had ended up exactly where I’d hoped it would.

  As I drank in every feature of the face I’d dreamed about for two years, her eyelashes started to flutter. She blinked up at me and confusion moved through her beautiful amber eyes.

  “Wh-what? Kellan?”

  “Welcome back, Sweet Pea.”

  “Back? Did I go somewhere?” Her voice was tinged with confusion and her eyes continued to try to focus on my face.

  This. This is what I’d missed out on for the last two years. Amber and I had only had one night together before I fucked things up. And a good portion of that night had been spent in bed—asleep. And while I looked forward to doing other things with her in bed, I realized I’d never seen her waking up.

  She’d woken up before me that one morning. I’d missed seeing her sleepy confusion and just how long it takes her to sweep away the cobwebs of slumber.

  I’d never considered myself the kind of guy who’d be fascinated by the way a woman wakes up in the morning. But lots of things had changed the moment I set eyes on Amber. From the first moment, I knew she was mine. There was no wavering. It was like my whole life led me to the moment where I met the perfect woman.

  And then I had to say goodbye. The agony was beyond words.

  “Kellan!” Amber sat up abruptly, ripping herself out my arms as she did so. If her eagerness to scoot over to the other side of the bed as far away from me as possible didn’t make her feelings for me clear, the tone of her voice as she said my name did the trick. My girl was not happy to find herself waking up in my arms.

  I fought the grin that wanted to break through. She probably wouldn’t appreciate it. But it wasn’t easy. I’d found something else out about myself the last two years—I was the kind of guy who loved a challenge.

  And while the woman I’d met and married two years ago was nothing but sweet, it was clear that the woman staring daggers at me from across the bed had made some changes, too. It was suddenly super clear reclaiming my wife wasn’t going to be as easy as I had assumed.

  “Get out.” She all but spit the words at me.

  This time I didn’t fight the grin. This was going to be fun.

  3

  Amber

  I pressed myself back into the fluffy white pillows piled against the headboard of my bed, ignoring my pounding head, and glared at the last man on earth I’d ever thought I’d see again. Or that I wanted to see again.

  A twinge in the region of my heart told me that last thought might not be entirely true. But I ignored it.

  “I’m serious, Kellan. Get out.”

  He stood at the side of the bed, nodding. “Okay, if you really want me to go, I’ll go. But one question first.”

  I squinted up at him and could feel the scowl forming on my face.

  “What?” I bit out.

  “You going to take care of things this time or are you going to leave that up to me again?”

  I pulled my eyebrows together. “What are you talking about?”

  He nodded toward the hand I was using to clutch the comforter to my chin. I glanced down and gasped.

  How on earth had I forgotten that?

  “Kellan, we did not get married again! All this is your idea of a sick joke.”

  He arched an eyebrow at me. “No? Could’ve sworn that was you saying I do last night, but maybe it was one of my other wives.”

  “Ex-wife!”

  He shook his head and a smile played over his lips. Those lips that always seemed to be smiling at me or pressing against mine in my dreams.

  “This isn’t happening again!”

  “You’re right, sweetheart. Things are definitely not going to go down like they did last time.”

  I shook my head as confusion and fear and a thousand other emotions I wasn’t going to try to sort out, flooded me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Kellan reached across the bed and grabbed my wrist. “It means that ring means something. It means there’s a reason you and I keep ending up in this position. It means, this time, Sweet Pea, I’m not letting you run away from me.”

  “It wasn’t me who did the running last time. You all but tossed me out the door on my ass.”

  He pulled me across the bed and pinned me. His muscul
ar body pressing me into the mattress. There was no mistaking his hard cock through the outline of his jeans. At just that bit of contact, my panties were wet.

  No, no, no.

  But even as my brain threw out objections—and believe me they were considerable—my body said something else entirely. With each panting breath, I pulled his scent inside me. How was it even possible his combination of cool aftershave, warm skin, and clean male was so familiar to me? After two years, all memory of his scent should have been erased.

  But my body recognized it. It was like some primal instinct kicked in, reminding me of the smell of my mate—the one man meant just for me.

  The one I could not have.

  I shook my head against my pillow and stared up at the dark eyes drilling into mine. “We can’t do this, Kellan.”

  “Why not? You’re my wife. I’m your husband. I heard you just five minutes ago complaining about still being in possession of your virginity. Let’s take care of that. Let’s have the wedding night we should have had two years ago. Right here. Right now.”

  As he spoke, his body pressed deeper into mine. His hand came up and tangled in the hair at my temple and he tilted my face up to his.

  “My teeth!” The words were torn from me in a frantic cry. A cry way louder than necessary considering the half an inch or so that separated our faces, but I couldn’t help it. I was desperate.

  God! I’d yelled out the first thing that came to mind in my quest to get away before I did something totally stupid like roll to my hands and knees, ass in the air, begging him to fill me.

  But I figured the need to brush my teeth after a night of drinking tequila straight from the bottle and waking up with my mouth feeling like it’d been stuffed full of cotton wool was a plausible enough excuse to put some space between us.