Relieved, I lean across the table and grab both his hands in mine, smoothing my thumbs over his knuckles. “Thank you,” I say softly. “I just want to enjoy this time with you before we go back to reality.”
His eyes lock with mine, full of love, and something settles within me, the tension leaking away as he smiles.
“Me too,” he whispers meaningfully, squeezing my fingers. “I wish we could stay in this moment forever.”
“We’ll have lots of moments like this,” I assure him. “But only one honeymoon.” It’s another pointed reminder that slips out, and he gives an exaggerated wince.
“Okay, okay,” he says playfully. “I promise, you’ve got my full attention. You’re more important than anything else, Lily.”
Not even another minute passes by before I hear his phone start vibrating again, and his expression darkens, the peace of the moment disappearing as fast as it had come.
He offers me an apologetic look, pulling out the phone long enough to silence it, but an uneasiness lingers in my stomach, making me wonder if I’m reading too much into his inattention.
Or not reading into it enough.
CHAPTER 2
Lily
We spend the next day beside the resort pool drinking mimosas, taking the chance to really relax…outside of our suite. My feet thank me for it, the ache in the soles of my feet easing whenever I dip them in the cool water, and even more with each downed drink. By the time we leave, my head is fuzzy from the alcohol, so I decide a walk along the beach is the perfect way to clear my head.
“You sure you don’t want to come with me?” I come out of the bathroom to find my husband lounging back on the massive bed. His hands tucked behind his head and legs crossed at the ankle. He’s wearing dark sweats but no shirt, and my eyes linger on him, a thread of disbelief that this man is mine.
His mouth curls into a lazy grin, and butterflies take off in my belly—just as strong as the day we met, literally crashing into each other in the doorway of a cafe.
“I’m sure, sweetheart.” His voice is like honeyed whiskey, stroking over every nerve-ending in my body. “I’m sick of sand, honestly. And I didn’t sleep well last night.” He shoots me a saucy wink, and I flush with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal.
A throb of heat pulses low in my belly, urging me to crawl back into bed with him. But when I trail my eyes over his face, I can see the faint bruises under his eyes.
In the lead-up to the wedding, he’d been squirreled away in meetings more often than not, so busy that I’d barely seen him. When I’d asked Declan if there was anything he wanted to talk out with me, he’d been vague and the conversation always ended up with him distracting me away from my questions.
Apprehension trickles back in, but I ruthlessly shove it away. “Alright,” I say, grabbing my bag and shoes. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours, but I have my phone if you need me.”
He tips his chin at me, eyes already heavy-lidded, but I can’t resist leaning over the bed for one last kiss. Almost immediately, his hand curls around the back of my neck, holding me firmly as his tongue dips into my mouth, tangling against mine with sensual promise.
When I finally drag myself away with a reluctant groan, my eyes track down, watching as his tongue flicks over his swollen bottom lip, as if chasing the taste of me. My lips part on a low breath, just as dark molten eyes capture mine, pulling me in like a magnet.
I sway towards him, before blinking dazedly. He chuckles, his fingers stroking over the skin of my cheek. “Sorry, baby. Stubble burn.”
“It’s okay,” I murmur, adding dryly, “It’s not the only place you got me.” His eyes dip down over my body, tracing each curve as if he can see straight through my yellow sundress.
I take a quick step back, and his hand drops away. “I’d better go.”
He nods, eyes following me as I leave, half-shutting the bedroom door. I check I’ve got my room key before heading out, my mind still firmly back in bed with my husband.
From almost the first moment, I knew Declan Masters was it for me.
That he was the one.
It’d been the perfect meet-cute, me leaving the Sugar Bean as he was going in, his eyes down on his phone. We’d crashed into each other and the hazelnut latte in my hand had gone everywhere, luckily cold enough that it hadn’t burned me through my clothes.
Dec had apologized profusely, insisting on trying to clean me up and buying me a fresh coffee. I’d been late for a yoga class, but he’d talked me into sharing a table with him. By the time he’d had to leave, he was giving me his phone number and charmingly asking that I call him, so he’d have mine.
I freeze in front of the elevator, trying to remember if I actually grabbed my phone before I left. A quick search of my bag doesn’t turn it up, so I double back, quietly opening the door to the suite just in case he’s already asleep. My phone is right where I left it, but just as I grab it, his deep voice floats out from the bedroom.
“It’s sorted.”
I pause, positive he heard me come in, but unused to the dispassionate tone from him. Before I can open my mouth and ask, he’s talking again, “She has no idea. I’ve got it all in hand.”
