Page 86 of Endless Love

I place my hand on my heart, all this happiness spreading inside of me, filling me with love and life. “I love it.”

Phoenix, I’ll name the island, Phoenix.

Chapter Thirty-Five

BRIA

My feet dig into the soft sand, and Damien clasps my hand in his as we walk toward the villa in the distance. It’s surrounded by palms and lavish green hills, secluding it, only a few steps away from the lush beach and sparkling turquoise water.

The mix of sun and clear water kissing the shore creates a scenic landscape. The white mansion extends to thousands of square feet, and an extravagant outdoor deck surrounds it. The first image that enters my mind is the splendid sunrises and sunsets we could witness with the stunning 360-degree panoramic view over the bay.

As we step closer, various sights battle for my attention, but the private infinity pool wins as I see myself laying on the daybed pavilion. I glance at Damien’s lips curving into a proud smile.

“It’s amazing.”

Like the outside, the inside is also magnificent with its polished wooden floors, stone-featured walls, and elaborate fittings, spacious living and dining areas with ocean views. On the second floor, an extravagant master bedroom and en suite await us with a king-size bed situated in the middle of the room—an open and spacious suite with a heart-stirring ocean view. I stroll toward the bathroom with a sunken Jacuzzi.

I love the island and the villa, but I’m more than ready to celebrate our marriage.

“I’ll go take a shower, baby.”

“I like how you think.” He strides toward me, grinning when I stop him.

“Alone.”

“But, Bria.”

“Just this time.”

I plead and offer him a reassuring smile. He nods and steps back. I shower away the long flight from my skin, pampering it with the scent of lotus petals and golden amber shower gel. I peel the sun and waterproof bandage off. I have enough of them to last through my honeymoon and step out of the shower and apply a creamy body lotion.

Wearing a sheer, pink lace babydoll negligée with a matching thong, I approach Damien. He lies on the bed, propped on his back, his ripped body naked except for a towel wrapped around his hips. He sizes me up with his eager and wanton eyes. Heat and lust roll from my belly down between my legs. The desire sparkles between us, shimmering like crystals. He jumps up and strides to me, his voice lowering to sensual.

“I’ve had you countless times. I’ll make you mine a thousand times more, but I can never replace the first time making love to you as my wife.”

My skin prickles as he commands every cell of my body to respond to him, and a sensation of light-headedness washes over me. Damien’s lips find mine, and we settle into a slow but enticing rhythm. I suck on his lower lip as his warm breath invades my senses. His thumb digs into my cheek as he pulls at my wet hair, trailing soft and maddening light kisses on my sensitive neck. He peels my negligée off, not stopping kissing me. He lifts me while I cross my legs around his back, and we land on the bed.

My heart thumps in my chest, he’d detect it any moment now. His touches are everywhere, coaxing a rush of desire. He freezes and blinks, his gaze focused on my thigh. He traces the lines of the tattoo as not believing his eyes. He lifts his chin, his steel eyes blinking with vulnerability, and asks, “Is this permanent?”

I weave my hand through his hair and nod.

“Do you like it?” I bite the inside of my cheek, anticipating his answer. His Adam’s apple bobs, and he closes his eyes. His steel eyes find me again, an endless pool of gratitude and wonder.

“You inked the combination of my first name letter and the word ‘mine’ I always draw on you on your thigh. I don’t like it. I fucking love it.”

“It’s my wedding gift to you. It’s not an island, though.”

“It’s better. And now I know why you hid from me all week long. It was driving me crazy.”

“I didn’t want to spoil the surprise,” I say, and my finger traces the vein on his arm while his eyes narrow at me.

“Who tattooed you?”

I suppress both a smile and to roll my eyes at him.

“A tattoo artist.”

He raises a brow, and I erupt into giggles, but today I don’t want to torment him too much and add, “A female tattoo artist.” At my words, his beautiful face relaxes while his hands grip my thighs.

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