Page 90 of If You Claim Me
“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant proclaims.
“I’ve been waiting all day for this, Mrs. Grace.”
My heart slams around in my chest as he cups my cheek in his trembling hand.
“My beautiful wife.” He dips down for a tender brush of lips, soft and sweet. Gentle and chaste. At least until I part mine.
Connor makes a deep sound in the back of his throat and tilts my head, stroking inside. He deepens the kiss for a few knee-weakening moments while cameras flash incessantly, and then he pulls back, his grin wry as he takes my hand and faces the sea of people.
Our friends are smiling and clapping, boisterous, and a stark contradiction to the restrained golf claps from the rest of the attendees. Connor’s mother looks furious, and his father’sexpression is a dark storm cloud. I’m sure slipping me the tongue in church is high on the list of no-nos.
Connor takes my arm and covers my hand with his when I settle it on his forearm. He bends, lips brushing my ear. “You’re better than every single person in this room, and the important people already know it.”
Even though my legs are unsteady, I let his words wash over me and infuse steel into my spine. I’m a Grace now. And even if it’s only temporary, that name carries power. Cashmere-lined armor, like he said before. I feel the power in taking his name, in being his. I roll my shoulders back, and I feel his lips curve against my temple.
Everyone rises as we move down the aisle. I smile at my friends in the first few rows, then focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Connor leads me to the wedding party suite, which is different from the separate suites where we got ready.
We only have a minute before our friends will be here. I look up to take in the full glory of my…husband. “Holy shit.”
“You okay?” He runs his hands down my arms.
“We’re married.”
“We are.” He nods, his smile tentative. “I have something for you.”
For a moment I expect him to pull a wad of cash out of his pocket, but instead he retrieves a tiny organza bag.
I tip my head, curious as he carefully loosens it, then moves my hand so it’s palm up between us and shakes a small friendship bracelet into my hand.
I finger the beads that readMrs. Grace.
He clears his throat. “I made it for you.”
My gaze lifts to his. “You made this?”
“Yeah.” He pushes his cuff up. “I have one, too.” His readsMr. Grace.
My eyes prick. My heart stutters. I don’t know if Connor realizes the significance of this, of how much those bracelets I’vegathered all the road of my life mean to me; they’re fragments of all the good parts.
It suddenly feels like someone injected Novocain into the top of my head, and it’s running down my body like a waterfall. I grab the lapels of his tux. “You should kiss me again.”
His eyebrows rise.
“Please. Now. I need a distraction, or I’ll end up crying,” I explain.
His brow furrows, and his expression darkens. “Regretting your choices already?”
“No, my feelings are big and your sweetness is hitting me in all my soft places. Please distract me, Mr. Grace.”
“Whatever you need, Mrs. Grace.” He cups my face in his hands and slants his mouth over mine.
The soft stroke of his tongue, the rough pads of his gentle fingers on my face, the comforting smell of sandalwood and citrus, and the warmth of his body pull me back from the edge of panic.
“Whoa, hey now!” Kodiak’s deep voice breaks the spell.
I stroke my tongue against Connor’s one last time before I break the kiss.
“We can give you a few minutes,” Lexi offers with a smirk.
