Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)(27)

Leaning forward, his fingers found the back of my head, digging into my hair, and he pulled me close. A millisecond before our lips met, he whispered, “Forever,” just loud enough for the two of us to hear.

The congregation erupted into cheers and applause as we took our first kiss as husband and wife.

It was magical.

As we pulled back, I looked up to see tears in Jude’s eyes. I rose up on my tiptoes and gently wiped them away before we turned toward our family and friends.

“Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Jude Cavanaugh!”

We raised our joined hands in triumph, laughing in joy, and we raced down the aisle to congratulations and applause.

We hadn’t been married for more than an hour, and I kind of already wanted to hurt him a little, not a lot—just a small kick to the shin or a tiny shove.

As the guests had all filed out and been whisked away to the beautiful hotel ballroom that was serving as our reception location for cocktails and hors d’oeuvres, we had stayed behind with our small bridal party and family to take photos.

As I dutifully followed directions from our patient and amazing photographer, I felt it—the subtle brush of his fingers across my bare skin, the way his body seemed to hover just a bit closer each time we readjusted our poses. He was doing it on purpose and in front of our family.

And, dang it, I was letting him.

I knew it probably all seemed innocent to anyone nearby—a brush of a hand, a tender kiss. For me, it was anything but. With the raging inferno threatening to burst free from me, desire so fierce pooled deep within that I felt like we might as well be filming a porno right there in front of my mother and father.

“Okay, I think that’s enough of the family photos. Everyone but Lailah and Jude can head over to the reception,” the photographer announced.

I nearly sighed in relief, and then I saw Jude’s mouth twitch beside me.

“Oh, shut up,” I muttered.

We got another round of quick congratulations, and then it was just the two of us and the photographer.

But she earned the reputation that had preceded her by managing to fade into the background and letting us do what came naturally—getting caught up in each other. We moved around the church, taking photos in candlelight and near the large arches of the windows. Nothing was posed or stagnant, and it only perpetuated the need to have him more.

After about fifteen minutes, the photographer had gotten everything she needed, and we were let free to join the others at our reception.

“Ready to party, Mrs. Cavanaugh?” Jude asked as he took off his tailored jacket. He placed it on my shoulders right before opening the heavy church door.

“I’d actually rather drive around in the limo for a few hours.”

His eyes darkened, and we stepped into the cold winter air. My head tilted upwards, catching tiny snowflakes from the flurries that had begun during the ceremony.

“Snow,” he stated, glancing up at the wintery sky.

“Snow,” I repeated, remembering my wedding vows from just an hour earlier.

“Let’s find that limo,” he said.

Scooping me into his arms, he walked down the steps toward the street. I laughed, but it was cut short when I heard him curse.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“The limo is gone.”

“Maybe he’s just down the street?” I suggested.

Jude set me down. Romantic moment now over, we looked from one side of the street to the other, but there was no limo in sight.

“I specifically requested that one be left behind for us.”

“Well . . . hmm . . .” was all I could offer before adding, “Taxi?”

He turned to me like I’d lost my mind. “In your wedding dress?”

“Well, it’s either that, or we walk.”

His hand was in the air before I’d even finished the sentence.

Five minutes passed before a taxi was crazy enough to pick us up. Apparently, seeing a bride and a groom in front of a church was just too much drama for most NYC drivers to handle. Luckily, Mo from Queens was feeling a bit adventurous and decided he needed a good laugh as Jude spoke with him through the window before quickly helping me shove the many layers of my designer gown into the shabby backseat.

“You running away?” Mo asked in a heavy accent.

“No! Of course not!” I said adamantly. “Our limo that was supposed to take us to our reception disappeared.”

“Limo drivers—can’t trust those guys.” He laughed. “Well, let’s get the king and queen to their party!”

Jude gave him the address, and within fifteen minutes, we arrived fashionably late to our own reception.

“They’re here!” Grace yelled, running up to us in her beautiful green satin dress. The way it fit her flattered her figure perfectly, yet it still gave her that frilly feminine look she loved so much.

Even though it wasn’t pink, I’d still kept her in mind when picking it out.

“Sorry,” we apologized as we walked in. “Our limo was missing.”

“What? Well, only one was out there when we left, but I asked him to go back.” She was incredibly flustered.

I placed my hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. He probably just didn’t understand. We took a cab.”

She looked horrified. Her eyes roamed my dress, searching for evidence of our harrowing journey.