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"With this ring, I pledge my love to you. I will honor and cherish you, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. We shall be as one, all the days of our lives."
The minister turned to her, and prompted, "Miss Morgan?"
She was drowning in the emerald sea of Desmond's eyes, sparkling jewels that shone with his love for her. She could lose herself in those eyes, drown and never come back up for air. And she wouldn't mind in the least. United, heart and soul, for eternity.
The minister coughed, and Desmond gave her fingers a quick squeeze. She blinked, and felt a hot flush cover her cheeks. Taking the ring from the minister, she lifted Desmond's hand. Following the minister's prompting, she repeated the vow.
"With this ring, I pledge my love to you. I will honor and cherish you, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. We shall be as one, all the days of our lives."
The gold band slid on smoothly, nestling at the base of his finger. She wrapped her fingers around his hand, needing to feel the ring's solid weight. It was real. They were married.
The minister continued speaking, but she ignored him, watching Desmond. The rosy light from the stained glass panel gilded his features, highlighting the rich fullness of his lips. Lips which smiled, and parted, as he bent his head toward her. Closing her eyes, she lifted her face to his and received his lips in a kiss that was as much promise as offering.
He pulled back, smiling down at her. She smiled back, deliriously happy. Everything was perfect.
"Congratulations," the minister interrupted. She smiled at him, too. She'd smile at the whole world, but the chapel held only the witnesses needed to make the ceremony legal. So she smiled at them.
"Thank you," Desmond answered, his voice soft and husky. Their wedding had affected him as deeply as it had her.
He released her hand long enough to shake hands with the minister, and receive the payment envelope. While Desmond filled the envelope, the minister shook her hand, too, and kissed her cheek. Then Desmond was leading her down the aisle, between the ribbon-festooned benches, and out to the car.
He kissed her again before settling her into her
seat, and again before starting the ignition. They stopped at the light by the mall, and he took the opportunity for a long, lingering kiss that left her breathless. Sliding his hand up her new white stockings, he pushed aside the layered white chiffon skirt of the dress they'd bought just a few hours ago. The heat of his hand burned her thigh, sending a flash fire skittering across her skin. He pulled his hand back to shift the car, and his absence chilled her like a January midnight. Then he was back, sliding his palm even higher, cupping her in heat and touching off a firestorm of need.
She shifted in her seat, pressing against him. "Are we there yet?"
"Almost." He sounded as breathless as she did.
He jerked the wheel, making a one-handed turn that got them into the hotel's driveway, but almost clipped one of the fir trees pillaring the drive. Slamming on the brake, he threw the car out of gear as soon as it stopped. He cut the ignition, opened the door, and was helping her out of the car before the valet had closed half the distance to their car. They abandoned it, trusting that the valet would know what to do with it, and hurried through the hotel doors.
The clinking and blinking machines sounded like an angelic choir, come to serenade them on their special day. Holding hands, they hurried to the elevators, not quite breaking into a run. When the elevator came, Desmond took advantage of their privacy to lean her against the mirrored wall and kiss her senseless.
The elevator chimed. Desmond stepped away, leaving her dazed with passion. She had a brief vision of how she must appear to him, her gray eyes glittering with desire beneath half-closed lids, her lips swollen and dark red from the force of their kisses. His strong fingers twisted in the silk of her hair, pulling her closer, and then the doors slid open.
They ran from the elevator, pelting down the hall to their room. Desmond fumbled to work the lock as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rubbed herself against him.
"Hurry," she whispered, her breath steaming against his ear. She slid her hands lower, and felt his trembling reaction to her touch.
The door opened and they fell inside, stumbling toward the bed. She unzipped her dress and pulled it over her head, and he pulled off his topcoat, tie and cummerbund. He unbuttoned his shirt, while she stripped off her slip. She reached for her bra strap just as he unbuttoned his pants. Then they stopped. And looked at each other.
"Curtains," she said, just as he said, "Condoms."
They rushed to the far sides of the room, he to wrench closed the drapes, and she to retrieve the box of protection they'd purchased with her stockings. Coming together again, they finished undressing each other, trembling hands slowing them down and adding to their urgency. Finally, they both stood naked in the center of the room. He was so handsome, she could die from looking at him. And he was ready for her, too.
She slid the condom over him, making him groan at the agony of her whisper soft touch. Grabbing her shoulders, he threw her to the bed and tumbled on top of her.
The past week of denial had only inspired her longing, and now she arched and writhed against him, unable to get enough of him. Wrapping her arms around him, she clawed at his back, trying to draw him even closer. They branded each other with kisses, scorching marks across shoulders, chests and necks.
He plunged inside her, and she screamed in need. His hands were behind her, pulling her closer, and she raked his back, striving to be closer still. He bent his head to kiss her neck, hot, liquid kisses that fueled her passion to an intensity she'd never dreamed of. She couldn't see. She couldn't think. She was consumed by need, a wildfire blazing out of control. And only one thing would satisfy her. Opening her mouth wide, she pressed a heated kiss to the pounding vein in his throat. And then drove her teeth through the skin.
Hot, salty blood spilled out of him as he collapsed on top of her, his seed bloating the condom. She kissed and nuzzled, transported by their communion, even as he kissed and nuzzled her. She no longer knew where she stopped and he began. They were truly united as one.
Then the rhythmic stroking of his tongue faltered. A shudder ripped through him, shaking them apart, and he pulled back to stare at her in wide-eyed horror. She blinked, not understanding, and reached for him, only to have him recoil away from her.
"No. Oh dear God, no." All the color drained from his face, and she saw for the first time the ragged cut on his neck, and the blood smeared across his shoulder and chest. He leapt from the bed and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. But she still had time to see the mass of fresh red welts scarring his back.
She sat up in the bed, and looked at her hands. One of her nails was broken, and a thin layer of sticky crimson covered her fingertips. She brought it closer, fascinated by the gleaming red surface. Then she popped the tip of one finger into her mouth, drawing off the sweet warmth.
