Page 91 of The Bodyguard's Fall

He blinked. His expression softened as his gaze moved over my face. Then he gently released my hand and, with the softest touch, pressed away the tear with his thumb.

I stood perfectly still, afraid that if I blinked, more tears would escape. When he seemed satisfied that I was okay, he stepped closer. His hands gently framed my cheeks as he lowered his lips to mine.

The kiss was soft at first. Warm. Almost hesitant.

Like he was allowing himself to cross a line he'd spent years refusing to approach.

His hands cupped my cheeks before moving to my shoulders, lightly tracing down my arms until they found my waist. He pulled me closer, and any hesitation disappeared the moment my body pressed against his, replacing my uncertainty with something far more dangerous.

Hope.

My hands found their way to his chest, then into the hair at the nape of his neck. I couldn't get enough of his kiss. His arms. The way he held me so tightly.

Strength and power radiated from him, but Tate's lips were soft against mine, taking only what I was willing to give. There was more to him, more to this, but he read the moment perfectly and gave me exactly what I needed.

At that point, we had far exceeded the quick peck the judge and witnesses required.

But I couldn't stop.

I didn't want to.

In a matter of seconds, he had wrapped me in something warm and safe—a place I could have stayed forever. Like being covered in a blanket fresh from the dryer, I couldn't get enough.

And when it felt like he was about to pull away, I leaned closer, silently begging for just a few more seconds.

Eventually, though, all good things had to come to an end.

And ours came in the form of an amused throat-clearing from our beloved judge.

When we stepped back from each other with dazed looks, Judge Thatcher was chuckling.

“Well,” he began, “sometimes you wonder about the kids who come through, wanting a hasty marriage. I don’t know what really brought you two here, but I’m not too worried anymore.”

My face flamed with heat. And the judge wasn’t done.

“You two better go get you a room, though. Don’t bring that kind of scandalous display into my town.”

Tate and the judge were both laughing as we made our way out of the room.

Will: Hey. I can’t get a hold of Tate or Liv. Where are they?

Luke: *Checks watch.* Four pm on a Monday afternoon? They are probably riding off into the sunset right now.

Will: What?

Luke: On their honeymoon. Would not recommend disturbing.

Will: WHAT?

I was a married woman.

I kept reminding myself of that fact as we set our wedding clothes in the backseat of his truck and slowly made our way toward the highway. The late-afternoon sun cast a rich halo in its path, highlighting the fall colors on display. The ring on my finger felt foreign. Tate wore his own gold band, and I wondered if his eyes kept drifting to it as well. Tate had set the marriage paperwork on the seat between us. I had scrawled my signature next to his. The deed was now done. So simple, really. I wasn’t sure how I expected to feel today, but so far, other than the fact that I was now Olivia Walker, not much felt different.

If I completely ignored the whole elephant-in-the-room kind of kiss we just shared, that is.

“Do you want to grab a burger real quick?”

Tate motioned toward a fast-food restaurant coming up on his left, complete with a spinning sign and drive-up window boasting the county’s best bacon burger three years in a row. Any other day, that burger would have been completely enticing. Even the image of me eating a messy burger in my white wedding dress had a certain romantic charm.