Liam watched the woman who had come to mean the world to him as she floated down the aisle on her father's arm. She was radiant, her clotted cream-colored gown swirling around her, the long train bringing up the rear. When they came beside her mother, Mrs. Markham stood and walked with them the rest of the way to the altar. They stood there, all four of them, but Liam and Lydia had eyes only for each other. When the minister began to speak, they tore their eyes away from each other reluctantly and listened to his solemn words.
"Who gives this woman to this man?" he asked.
"We do," her parents said in chorus, and took both her hands and laid them in Liam's hands. He looked at her for another long moment, and then turned with her to face the man who would say the words to make them husband and wife. The church was packed, with police officers, family, and friends from everywhere, including overseas. Liam and Lydia spoke their vows in clear voices, promising to love and care for each other, to remain friends and lovers, and to grow old together through every season of every year of the rest of their lives. He invited them to put the rings they had for each other on their fingers, and Liam kissed Lydia's hand and Lydia his, when they placed the token of their love on each other's ring fingers.
"Liam, I know you've been waiting for this moment all morning, so I guess I'd better take you out of your misery." The minister chuckled merrily. "You may kiss the bride!"
Liam turned and faced Lydia, pulling her slowly into his arms, and when his lips touched hers, the church erupted into cheers and wolf whistles. Liam barely heard it over the roaring in his ears from the thundering of his heart. He fought to keep the kiss light, and promised himself a much better, fuller one later. He smiled into her eyes, and watched her eyes light up as she smiled back at him.
"I love you," they whispered to each other.
The rest of the day was a blur, from the horse-drawn carriage ride from the church, to the multiple stops for pictures, to the reception line, to the first dance – a snappy tango, of course – to the final goodbyes. Liam only knew he was dying by the end of the day to be alone with Lydia. So when the carriage returned to take them to the yacht, Liam was more than ready to leave the happy crowd of well-wishers, he was eager. He held Lydia's hand in his, then scooted closer and put his arms around her, holding her as though she were a precious cargo. He pressed light kisses on her cheeks and hair, and even though the ride through the quiet streets to the dock was romantic, with the stars twinkling in a clear sky, and the moon on the rise, Liam knew he needed to feel Lydia under him, on him, and soon. He thanked the carriage driver, and helped Lydia down, pulling her to his side as the horses pulled away.
"Come on, honey," he whispered in her ear, "let's go aboard." He led her along the dock to the large white yacht that was moored at the end, and helped her climb aboard, her long cream-colored dress hiked up around her legs. He went ahead of her, so he could catch her in his arms when she stepped down.
"Welcome aboard the Ladylove," Liam said. "I'll give you a full tour in the morning, before we cast off, but for now I need you." His voice was a thick soup of emotion, rough and warm.
Lydia followed Liam below, to the stateroom. It was hard to believe she was on a yacht not in a hotel room. The room was beautifully appointed in red and gold, but Lydia had no time to admire its lavish beauty before Liam was pulling the tiny buttons at the back of her dress.
"How long did it take you to do up the back of this dress?" he asked laughingly. "It's certainly taking me a long time to undo them!"
"I don't remember how long it took," Lydia replied. "Everything seemed to go incredibly fast this morning, and before I knew it, I was standing next to you."
Lydia turned as she spoke, and raised her face to his. And Liam could no more resist her silent invitation than he could resist breathing. He lowered his head and kissed her slowly, deeply, his tongue making contact with hers in fuller and fuller passes. She moaned as the kisses grew more fevered, wetter, more drugging. Liam felt his heart thudding in his chest, and he grew harder with every sound that came from her throat. He pressed his thighs against hers, and felt her press back.
"Oh, baby, yeah," he whispered. He needed to know she wanted him as much as he wanted her. "Hold me tight, baby," he begged her, and tightened his grip on her.
Liam felt Lydia's arms wrap around his neck, her hands tangling in his hair. He plunged into her mouth again, sucking and tasting her, fueling his desire with every pass of his mouth over hers.
"Lydia, baby, I need to feel you, honey, now!" he said hoarsely. He pulled the dress down her arms, and watched her full breasts burst from their restraints. He inhaled deeply, and passed trembling hands over them, clad in black lace. He bent his head and sucked on the taut nipples through the lace, then blew on them, making Lydia shiver. He raised his head and looked at her.
"Okay, so far?" he wondered, waiting anxiously for her answer.
"Yes," she breathed, barely able to think past the feelings that were engulfing her, feelings she had never had, not even in her first year with David. "I've...I've never felt like this before, and it's wonderful and..." she stopped, not wanting to spoil the moment.
"And what, baby?" Liam asked, caressing her through the lace.
