Page 195 of Holiday Rider
As soon as I take my first step down the aisle, Wyatt's lips twitch and then quickly burst into a huge grin. I force myself not to run toward him.
The delicate lace skirt on my boho wedding dress swishes across the runner. There's a slight chill in the air, blowing against my naked back, but my blood runs hot.
The singer's voice reminds me of warm honey, oozing romance and sacred love.
We get to the end of the aisle, and Dad kisses my cheek. He murmurs in my ear, "You'll always be my little girl."
Tears well in my eyes. I nod, and he steps in front of Wyatt, leans toward him, and says something I can't hear.
Wyatt's expression turns serious, and he nods.
Dad pats his back and then takes his place next to Mom. She's already dabbing her eyes.
Wyatt places his warm, callused palms in mine and squeezes. He mumbles, "Jesus, sugar."
I smile bigger, and the world goes quiet. We exchange our vows, pledging to spend the rest of our lives together and support one another in good times and bad. It's the most important moment of my life, but it passes in a blur. Before I know it, the officiant declares, "By the power vested in me by the great state of Texas, and in the presence of your family and friends, who have gathered to witness this moment, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride!"
Applause echoes around us, and I lose my breath. Wyatt puts his hand on the back of my veil, and his lips melt against mine in a possessive, needy masterpiece of desire. The crowd explodes into cheers and whoops.
When he pulls back, I declare, "I'm Mrs. Wyatt Houston now."
He chuckles, keeping my face close to his, and boasts, "Damn right you are, sugar. Don't ever forget it."
