A baby-sized squeal comes from behind me, and I turn to see Axelle moving to her spot across from me with Jack in her arms.
“Sorry,” she mouths and moves into her position as Maid of Honor. “Diaper change.”
Jack squeals and flashes a toothless grin before leaning forward to gum his sister’s shoulder. I roll my lips between my teeth to avoid laughing, at the same time thinking we need to move this along because Jack clearly needs to feed.
The sound of the quartet fades, and then they start up a new song that has the entire room standing and turning toward the back of the sanctuary. My stomach flip flops with excitement, and I stand tall, my eyes fixed to the back of the room.
The double doors swing open, and with the mid-day sun shining behind her, I can only make out her silhouette. That alone has my knees wobbling and me holding my breath.
An angel.
She’s my fucking angel.
One slow step at a time, Braeden walks Layla toward me until she’s fully visible beneath the lights. Her big brown eyes set on mine and I catch my breath. My hand moves to my chest of its own accord as if trying to protect my heart from her beauty.
They continue to advance, not fucking fast enough, as the music plays.
Gorgeous.
Breathtaking.
One of a kind.
The whispers of the people in the audience mimic my thoughts.
As they reach the end of the aisle, Layla’s eyes break from mine to watch as Braeden wheels her father to her right side. He’s hunched over in his chair, unable to sit up fully, so Layla squats at his side, pulling one of his shaky hands into hers, then turns to face the pastor.
“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” the pastor says with a Bible clutched to his chest.
Layla’s dad sits up as tall as he can, throwing back his shoulders just as I’ve seen her do countless times. “Her mother and I do.” He places a tender kiss to her knuckles then holds out her hand to me.
My heart leaps in my chest. I already have Layla in every way a man possibly can, but something about the act of having her handed off to me by the man who gave her life and nurtured her to be the woman she is, pulls something deep within me. Humility and feelings of unworthiness wash over me, and I claim Layla’s hand and bend to meet her father’s eyes.
“Mr. Devereux, thank you for trusting me to take care of your daughter. I won’t let you down, sir.”
His bottom lip quivers, foggy brown eyes shine with tears, but he remains stoic. “No, I don’t believe you will.”
Layla and I stand, and Brae wheels her father back before taking his place at my side. We turn hand in hand to the pastor, and I can’t help peeking over at her. Her face is made up just enough to enhance her already perfect features, lips painted a deep red that reminds me of a ripe cherry. She sees me staring and smiles so sweetly that my heart kicks double-time. I’m surprised I turn back to the pastor without pulling her in for a long, deep, wet kiss.
Patience, Daniels. That part’s coming.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are gathered here today . . .”
The ceremony goes on exactly how we rehearsed. There are tears, laughter, more tears, and the occasional baby protest. I try as hard as I can to keep my head in the game, remember all my lines when the time comes, but it’s difficult to focus on anything except Layla.
She radiates purity and love in white, but the black lace that pushes up her breasts and those damn biker boots scream rebel. My hands itch to explore her body, to see all that fabric pooled around her ankles as I run my tongue over every inch of her naked skin.
“You may kiss the bride.”
“Fuckin’ finally,” I murmur and receive a tight warning glare from the pastor.
“I cannot believe you just said the f-word in church,” Layla whispers, but the ginormous grin on her face contradicts her reprimand.
I cup her face in my hands, lean down, and brush my lips against hers. “Open up, Mrs. Daniels. Let’s give them a show they’ll never forget.”
*
Six hours later . . .
Layla
We burst through the doors of our honeymoon suite, with me cradled in Blake’s arms and our mouths fused together. I don’t know how he managed to work the key card without looking, but I’m damn grateful he did.
Blake rips his mouth from mine. “Shit, Mouse. Are you trying to get us blacklisted from The Four Seasons?”
I push up, pressing my breasts to his chest and pulling his lips back to mine. “I could ask you the same thing.” Our voices are breathless and weak.
What started out as innocent kissing in the elevator quickly turned to fondling, which will ignite into a full-blown public indecency charge if we don’t get our asses behind closed doors ASAP.
The reception was beautiful. Food was delicious. Decorations flawless. But I still found myself wanting to hit fast forward on the night and get to our suite. I longed for it to be just the two of us, alone for the first time as husband and wife.