Elijah refuses to give me the details of our honeymoon destination. This is
infuriating to me. I am not the same girl I was when he found me. I’ve since discovered the opinionated part of me that was lying dormant for most of my youth. The part of me that was hidden because of fear and control and uncertainty. “I don’t understand why you can’t just tell me,” I huff, looking to my left. Elijah is in the seat next to me on the airplane. He always lets me have the window seat. He knows how fascinated I am by watching the world move on beneath us as we fly across it.
He smirks. “It would ruin the surprise.”
I let out a sharp breath, sink down into my seat, and stare back out the window. Sometimes I think the surprises are getting old. We’ve been together for some time now, and I have to admit, at first him wanting to show me the world was thrilling. There were times where I felt like we were navigating through the greatest adventures of our lives, but now, the thrill has faded a tiny bit. Mostly, I just want him to include me in some of the decisions he makes involving us as a couple.
“I’ve made you angry?” This is a question not a statement.
I don’t look at him. “Not angry,” I tell him. “Just disappointed.”
“Disappointed.” His voice is lifeless, dull.
I face him. “No, no.” I lace my fingers through his. “Not in us or you. Don’t misunderstand me, love. I’m just disappointed that you won’t tell me where we’re going.”
“Well then,” he says with the slightest bit of excitement in his voice. “I promise that this is the last time I keep plans from you.” There’s sincerity in his amber eyes. “From this day on, I promise to include you in any decision that involves the both of us.”
I meet his gaze with a smile and rest my head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” I whisper.
Elijah kisses my forehead and I close my eyes as an anxious feeling pumps through me. It’s me and him, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, til death do us part.
Our journey as a married couple has just began.
And I can’t wait until we arrive at the first stop of the many stops in the journey of our lives.
Chapter Three
~Before~
Elijah’s voice flits through the moist Hawaiian air.
He sings with rasp.
And grit.
His fingers pluck the guitar strings in a precise pattern, never missing a strum or chord. I close my eyes feeling overwhelmed and at peace at the same time. I feel lost. In a daze. I feel like I’m drowning and the only time that I’ll be able to come up for air is when he stops.
So he does.
Without me asking him to, of course. Even though, at times it’s like I’m hypnotized by his musical abilities, I love to listen to him play.
I love to listen to him sing.
I lie on my side across from him on the blanket we spread out across the sand. I close my eyes for a second, and then open them to Elijah’s penetrating gaze. I let out a soft laugh and say, “What?”
He twists his body, placing his guitar back in its case. “Nothing.” He fastens the snaps on the case and stands, the case in his left hand, his right hand extended toward me. “Well, what do you say, Mrs. Watson? Shall we retire for the evening?”
I take his hand, smiling up at him as he helps me to my feet. “Would you like that, Mr. Watson?”
His lips touch my ear and his voice has taken on a husky tone. “Very much, Mrs. Watson.” I bite my lips to keep the moan from exiting my throat. “Hmm.” Now there’s vibrato in his voice. “On second thought.” He eyes the blanket with a salacious grin. Warm breath slices through my pores like the sharpened blade of a carving knife. “I want you,” Elijah groans, his teeth nipping my lower earlobe. He drops his guitar case in the sand.
“Here?” I gasp. “Now?” I scan the deserted beach, watching the waves with white crests as they crash into the sand.
Elijah lets out a low, raspy chuckle and peels the dark curtain of my hair away from my shoulder blade before kissing the bare patch of skin next to my dress strap. I suck in a deep breath when I feel the warmth from his mouth on my body and shiver when that warmth surges through all of my appendages before nestling in the pit of my stomach. “But we’re in a public place.” I keep my voice low, hushed.
“So.” I’m not facing him, but I hear the smile in his voice. No, it’s probably not a smile. It’s probably more of a greedy smirk. He sits back down on the blanket and give my arm a gentle tug. “Besides, we’re newlyweds. I think that entitles us to a few passionate yet exhibitionistic moments.”
I hesitate and just stare at him. There’s a nagging, terrified voice sounding off in my mind. What if someone sees us? How mortifying would that be? What if we got in trouble by the hotel staff? I know this sounds juvenile, but still. This is a new experience for me so when weighing the pros and cons I have to lay out all possible scenarios.