Accidentally Married to Ramsay

Where the hell are we?

Grace's POV

"Dance with me." A gruff voice hummed in my ear. I turned my head to see the guy staring at me from the VIP corner. My god, he's even more beautiful up close, and his eyes are so green and curious. He's tall, well over six-foot, black hair, cut short at the sides, with the top styled perfectly. His features are strong, chiseled, and so very masculine.

I twirled, craning my neck to look up at him. He is even more handsome up close, sharp jawlines, perfectly styled hair, with an athletic build. He was smoking hot.

“Was that a demand or a request?" I reply, narrowing my eyes at him.

His soft, full lips curl up Into a smirk.

"Whichever one gets you to dance with me.” He draws confidently. Someone tries to pass by him, so he takes a step closer to me. I lift my eyes and smile at the handsome stranger who's strong arms lock around my waist, drawing me against him. We sway together to the music. His movement matches mine, and we move together smoothly. He can dance. I like that. He bows his head, and his Lips brush against the shell of my ear as he speaks slowly, and I visibly quiver at the roguish tone of his voice.

"What's your name, gorgeous?" he murmured against my ear, his rough voice sending a shiver down my spine.

"Grace, yours?" I ask, and I could swear a look of surprise flashes across his face before he grins sexily, and two deep pimples form on his cheeks making me swoon.

He has dimples! Two of them!

"Ramsay." I smile up at him, and he drags his tongue along his bottom lip and squints his eyes a little while he looks over my face. We dance together, heatedly for a while. Grinding, hands exploring. The heat between us is immense.

Then my stomach roiled loudly. My tongue felt heavy in my mouth as I attempted to formulate an explanation, an excuse, any words at all. The air reeked of awkwardness.

"Hungry?" He chuckled.

"I guess." I responded.

He smiles and brushes a strand of my hair stuck to my sweaty face and tucks it delicately behind my ear. “How about we go someplace and get something to eat?” I nod without hesitation, and he grins, taking my hand in his larger one, he pulls me through the crowd of people. I managed to catch Abby on my way out and gesture to her as I was leaving. she waves me off with a thumbs up. The girl is more smashed than I am.

The crisp night air caressed my bare shoulders, and I staggered, swayed by the tequila. He held my waist to steady me. We made our way to the park, when I saw a gleaming white Rolls-Royce Cullinan with a driver, an older gentleman, who opened the back door for us.

I sink into the plush white leather seats once I slide over as Ramsay gets on beside me. “Wow. This car is bigger than Abby's apartment.” I state with a drunken giggle as Ramsay pours champagne for us.

“What's your stance on sushi? I know a great place.” I blinked up at him, and he smiled at me charmingly.

“Sushi?” He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Who in their right mind eats sushi when they're drunk?” Ramsay laughs heartily.

“Listen, I love sushi as much as the next person, but I'm not one of those girls who eat pretentious crap like caviar and sips Cristal. I can't think of anything worse, especially right now.”I lean over and tap the driver on his shoulder. He glances back at me through his rear-view mirror. “Take us to old street, please, good sir.” He chuckles and nods his head

Ramsay tugs me back and shifts so he could face me properly. “What's In Old Street?” I grin at him impishly and finish off my drink.

“The best food ever! No offense, but you strike me as one of those stuffy rich kids that thinks a good night out is sipping on Don perpignon and chewing Fish babies.”

“I'm going to show you a night you'll remember when you're sitting in your. Rocking chair at eighty years old, Mr. Ramsay.”

Ramsay chuckles and bites his lip, his green eyes alight with glee. “Oh? And will you be sitting beside me in that rocking chair?” He draws, brushing his thumb along my jaw.

“That depends…” I whisper, smiling as he runs his fingers through my hair.

“On what?” He whispers back, his eyes flickering down to my lips before they meet mine again.

“You'll have to marry me to find out.” I teased and he laughed before he drew my lips to his and kissed me softly. I moan when his tongue runs along my bottom lips silently requesting access, Which I joyfully grant him; parting my lips, he seeks out my tongue and expertly deepens the kiss. If my mind was hazy before, it's turned to complete mush after his kiss. As far as first kisses go. This makes the transfer of my list.

We spent the better half of the journey kissing until his driver alerted us that we had arrived at our destination. “What is this place?” He asks as I pull him to the entrance of the ‘the Breakfast bar.’

“Oh, you poor, poor child. You haven't lived until you've had their pancakes.” I say as we sit down, and he looks at the menu. I pluck the menu out of his hands, and he looks at me bemused. “You don't need that,” I tell him, and he smiles and shakes his head. “We will have a sharer's stack of pancakes, please, and two salted caramel lattes,” I order, and the girl smiles before taking the menu and disappearing.

Twenty minutes later, Ramsay licks his fork clean and slumps back in his chair with a delightful groan. “My god, that was heaven on a plate.” I nod triumphantly, chewing on my last bite of pancakes.

“Mm, I know, right.” I moan, licking the cream off my finger. “You can thank me later,” I say with a wink, and Ramsay grins, reaching over and taking my right hand in his, gazing into my eyes for a long moment.

“You are the polar Opposite to what I'm used to, but I don't remember having this much fun with someone I just met. Ever.” he affirms, stroking his fingers over my knuckles gently. I feel my cheeks burn under his gaze and avert my eyes to my cup of coffee.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. We had a couple more cocktails with shots before we somehow wound up on a private jet, laughing hard. We'd been playing a drinking game the entire flight which wasn't a good idea. “Vegas, baby!” I slur, throwing my hands up in the air and almost toppling over. I look around the dark airstrip and pout.

“Wait. There's no chapel here?” I hear Ramsay laugh behind me before he wraps his arm around my neck from behind and kisses my cheek. “We can't land in the middle of the Vegas strip, sweetheart,” he murmured drunkenly. “We need to drive there.”

I giggle, “Hookay! Driver! Take us to Elvis to be wed.” I slur drunkenly. Ramsay and I stumble into the back of the limo, and we head to the Las Vegas strip. I think we gambled for a while, drank delicious cocktails, and the last thing I remember was Ramsay carrying me out of a chapel, kissing like two lust-crazed adolescents.

Many hours later, I stir in my sleep with the blinding sunlight shining In my face. I groan and roll over, burying my face in the plush pillows. “Mm so soft,” I snuggle into the pillows further until I suddenly remember I don't have plush soft pillows. My pillow is hard and lumpy. I peel my eyes open and groan at the sudden ache in my head.

Ow, water…I need water and possibly a new brain. I force my eyes open and blink, looking up to the ceiling, I frown when I see a reflection of myself staring back at me in the bed, naked, wrapped in sheets.

What on God's green earth…

I sit up in the bed, and when I take in my surroundings it Finally hits me. I'm not in my bedroom. I'm naked in a strange place with a hangover I'm sure is about to put me in an early grave. I lift the bedsheets and stare down down at my very naked body under it. Yep, definitely naked. I groan and cover my face with my hand. Freezing when you feel something cold and hard pressed against my nose. I pull my hand slowly and stare at the enormous diamond ring sitting on my finger.

What the f**k… I wrapped the sheet around my body as I clambered out of bed and took in the clothes scattered haphazardly All over the room. my head whirls. “Oh my god, where the hell am I?” I pick up the black shirt off the floor and look at it before dropping it again. I walk Over to the window And look out at the View, shielding my eyes from the brightness of the early sun.

“This isn't London.”

“Good morning,” I squeal and spin around when I hear a deep voice behind me. I look at the half-naked man standing before Me in a pair of Dior Boxers. I wrap the sheet around me tighter as I throw myself back up against the window. “You are finally Up.”

“Oh, good God.” I muttered, and he winces, rubbing his forehead gingerly. He looks as rough as I feel, although a very beautiful man. Amid my mini panic attack, I try desperately not to think about how God awful I must look to him right now. My hair is a tousled mess, and my makeup from the night before js smeared, eyes rimmed red, lips still tinted red from the lipstick I wore.

“Actually, it's just Ramsay.”

“Ramsay. Where the hell are we?”

“Vegas, I believe…