Strike ( Book 4: Stronger Series )

26. Domestic

For the next two days, Darren and I explored almost every inch of Valencia together. We visited the cathedrals, the town squares, experienced as much local food and drink as we could, watched the shows, and enjoyed the hell out of Spain. I never thought I would enjoy this country as much as I did, but I absolutely loved it here.

And it occurred to me that Darren did too. It was undeniable how different his demeanor was when it was like this – when the only thing he had to focus on was me. He was calmer, less antagonistic, and even playful at times. It was easy to see him enjoy himself, his smiles effortless and banter almost natural, and I actually found myself wishing this side of him would last. But deep in the pit of my stomach was the doubt that this was all an illusion; that as soon as we returned to his estate, the spell would break, and he'd turn back into the person I hated.

I wasn't ready to leave this behind just yet.

"How long are we staying here?" I asked.

With the weather being absolutely perfect today, I begged Darren for a beach day, which he obliged happily. We were currently lying out on comfy beach chairs, myself under a tall umbrella with Camaro at my feet while Darren preferred to bathe in the sun, as if he wasn't already tan enough. My time in direct sunlight was limited since the last time I got burned back at the estate. I didn't mind since I preferred the shade anyway, but battling the heat with this damn bathing suit cover that Darren insisted I wear over my bikini was a little ridiculous. The bastard got to walk around with no shirt on, showing off his obnoxiously impressive physique while I had to hide mine.

It was total bullshit.

"We'll be leaving tonight actually," he replied as he read something off his phone.

"What? Tonight? Already?"

Darren chuckled as he lounged in the beach chair next to me, his bronzed skin catching my attention in the sunlight. "Yes, if you want to make it to the rest of the destinations."

"The rest? There are more? How many more?" I asked, suddenly feeling like a five-year-old with too many questions. But that's what he gets for keeping me in the dark all the time!

"You know I won't tell you that."

"I think you should."

"I think you should sit back and enjoy the ride," he insisted casually.

Well, now where was the fun in that?

Feeling bold, I stirred from my comfy cushy lounge chair and prowled over to his, gently straddling his hips, not at all discouraged as he continued reading from his phone under the guise of his dark aviator sunglasses. However, I wasn't sure if he even noticed how his free hand immediately moved to rest on my hip, the warmth of his skin already rushing through my body. He was so unbelievably solid under me, every muscle ripped and defined to be a tool of destruction and at times, to my dismay, total seduction.

Moving in slowly, I nipped his exposed neck with my teeth to get his attention.

"Are you on your honeymoon or on business?" I whispered into his ear.

"A little of both actually."

I jolted back. "What?"

"No rest for the wicked, sweetheart," he answered.

Well, ain't that some shit.

"Well fine, I guess I'll just go play with Camaro then since you're too busy to spend time with your wife on your honeymoon."

I moved to get off him, but he held me steady. "Hey, none of that shit," he scolded, those eyes lighting up in warning. "You know I'm a busy man."

"You only get one honeymoon, Darren."