Page 19 of Desperate Measures

“Shall we begin?” Judge Turning said.

“Yeah,” I said, keeping hold of Michaela’s soft, pale hand for the duration.

“Let’s get married.”

Chapter 6-Michaela

“Inow pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

I turned to face my new husband, hardly knowing what to expect. His face was unsmiling, stern, maybe even pissed off.

His gaze flicked to the diamond ring his sister had handed him when the judge asked for the ring, and I wondered if maybe he didn’t like jewelry.

Ironically, there was no mention of a ring for him, and I was in no position to ask about it.

The ceremony had ended much as it began, with my heart half beating me to death as I stood there with my now husband’s hand clasped around mine.

He finally let go of my hand to cup my cheek, bending his head to seal his mouth over mine.

He didn’t close his eyes.

Neither did I.

I just kept my gaze steady on his, grateful for his hand on my skin. If it wasn’t for that, I feared I might have lost myself in the flecks of blue hidden deep within his emerald gaze.

Liam had the most stunning eyes of any man I had ever seen. I’d always thought so.

They were vibrant, teeming with knowledge and secrets.

Hypnotic.

I felt frozen as I stared. Then he moved, pressing his warm lips to mine. The second our mouths touched, instant attraction flooded my system. A sense of rightness, of destiny, settled over my shoulders like a warm blanket and my body went on high alert.

Heat.

Need.

Yearning.

Like a surge of lightning coursed through my body, starting at the place our lips met.

He hummed a deep, growly sound, but ended the kiss, tugging on his lower lip with two fingers. I thought he might be wiping his mouth, but that wasn’t right.

It was like he was pressing the kiss in. Trying to make it seep into his skin somehow. Like he wanted to remember it.

Crazy, Micky. You sound crazy.

“There’s my married baby brother,” Margaret O’Doyle squealed, hugging Liam to her skinny frame.

I smiled and stepped back, not wanting to get caught up in all that. I shook hands with the judge instead, trying to hide my nervousness.

But I couldn’t stop looking at him.

Because the world was unfuckingfair. Liam O’Doyle had only gotten better looking since the last time I saw him, which was roughly eight or nine years ago.

Next month I’d turn twenty-seven. So, no, I was not a kid anymore. But could I handle being married to a man like him?

Liam was almost ten years older than me. Still ruggedly handsome with thick, dark hair, brilliant green eyes, and smooth, fair skin. A shadow of stubble framed his face, purposely so, and he looked good.

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