Must Be Magic (Spellbound) (25 page)

Only the hold he had on her hips kept her from sinking into the sand opposite him. She’d battled her own fears and emotions for so long, afraid to acknowledge that she hadn’t gotten over him. But none of that emotional upheaval compared to hearing those words from him.

A handful of words that shattered the last of her resistance.

She ran her hand through his hair, needing to touch him, to love him. Not just for a day or two, but for the rest of her life. “Bryce.” Her throat closed up, stopping her from speaking.

He looped his arms around her waist, tucking his face against her abdomen. Neither of them moved right away, not for a long moment, and then she felt the whisper-soft tease of his lips.

He pressed a kiss to her stomach, lingering, his breath hot on her skin, then he moved a fraction and kissed her again. And again.

Each featherlight pass grew increasingly greedy, his mouth opening over her skin, sucking softly but a little harder each time.

And his hands—god, his hands—they were everywhere. Stroking across her bottom and down between her thighs, down the backs of her legs and up the insides of her knees.

She couldn’t guess where he’d touch her next, and every part of her hummed with a need that stole across every nerve ending.

“Need to taste you.”

The rough demand made her breath catch.

He tugged her bikini bottoms down, barely tossing them aside before he pressed his face between her legs, and then his tongue.

Pleasure curled through her, and the backs of her knees trembled before her leg muscles tightened. For mindless seconds, they alternately weakened and tensed, each flick of his tongue setting off a chain reaction that burned through her body.

He teased and played, long, slow passes that circled her clit and short, heated bursts as his mouth closed over her and he sucked slowly.

So fucking slowly.

She raked her fingers through his hair, and he groaned against her, burying his face a little deeper. And then his finger pushed inside her, and she shuddered, silken waves pushing her toward release.

Without warning, he stopped, tipping his face up. Fierce, carnal eyes watched her skirt the edge, watched her nearly come undone from the possessive expression on his face alone.

With devastating intent, he sank his fingers back inside her, driving harder, and as his mouth found her clit once more, his tongue circling wildly, she gave herself over to the orgasm that slammed into her.

Bryce could still taste her.

The intoxicating scent wreaked havoc on his basic functions, like moving, talking—even breathing was a challenge.

It was a miracle he could still string a complete thought together, when all he wanted to do was bury himself inside her.

Her eyes were still a little glazed over and even more gorgeous. He pressed a kiss to her palm, and when he caught himself tracing a path with his tongue, thinking about making her come with his mouth all over again, he eased back.

“Inside. Now.”

She moved under the shelter ahead of him, turning to face him as he followed.

Kneeling, she cupped his cheek and leaned forward to kiss him. A tangled, half-starved kiss that ended up with her sucking softly on his tongue.

If his eyes weren’t already closed they would have rolled back in his head. He caught the back of her head, wanting the kiss to spin out of control and shake him to the core.

That’s what Darby did to him. Took everything he thought he knew and tossed it into a dizzying spiral that proved nothing else mattered but holding on to each other until the world righted itself once more.

And then they did it all over again.

Drawing back, she bit her lip, watching him.

“You really need to stop doing that.” She’d done it over and over outside.

Her slow, sexy smile nearly slayed him on the spot. “We need to be careful of your leg.”

What fucking leg? Pain didn’t register with the same bone-deep intensity as the need for her. “Not
that
careful.” And to prove it he stripped his shorts off in record time. Shirt too.

“We don’t want to make it start bleeding again.”

“Good point.” He lay back, hauling her with him as she straddled his hips.

He pulled the bikini top off, running the backs of his fingers down the sides of her breasts. He’d neglected them earlier, something he planned to make up for very soon.

“Where are you going?” He caught Darby’s hips as she leaned away from him.

“I think we’ll need one of these.” She snagged one of the condoms he’d torn through his bag to find after she’d started soaping herself all over.

“We’ll need to finish that bath later, by the way.”

She arched a brow. “So you did like that.”

“Hot as fucking hell.” He coaxed her back down, running his tongue along her throat, loving the smell of her.

He loved everything about her.

Darby sat up, tearing open the condom wrapper. He’d never thought of putting one on as hot before, but the way she did it, her gaze locking on him halfway through, could have triggered a meltdown.

Fuck.

Entranced, he watched as she wrapped her hand around his cock and tucked it against her opening.

“Yeah,” he murmured, willing her to sink down on him, taking him deep.

Darby wasn’t quite ready for that apparently. She pitched her hips forward, letting him slide along her folds, a slick friction that made him clench his jaw.

He didn’t know how much more teasing he could take. His whole system felt like it had taken one hit after another—their kiss, her bath, going down on her moments ago—and he didn’t know how much more he could handle.

And then it didn’t matter.

She thrust down, taking every inch of him.

They both groaned, but before she could withdraw and do it again, he tugged her down to meet him. The need to brand her with his mouth, to make the moment last for both of them, consumed him completely.

Her lips parted eagerly beneath his, and he gripped her nape, holding her there as he all but savaged her mouth until he couldn’t drag enough air into his lungs.

Nipping his lip, Darby then straightened, moving slowly at first, a lazy slide that echoed along his cock, the aftershocks of it radiating through him.

Lifting his head, he watched where their bodies slid together and parted, and everything slowed down.

Not the movement of her hips, or the way her sweet muscles closed around him, squeezing his cock tight. But everything else—the pounding of his heart, the carnal greed to fuck her hard, the lingering fear that he wouldn’t be able to keep her—seemed suspended in time.

He lifted his hands, filling his palms with her breasts.

She whimpered, a soft, sexy sound that made him impossibly harder. And she was doing that lip-biting thing again, her head falling back as he ran his thumbs across her nipples.

Her body grew taut, each rock of her hips a little harder, deeper.

More soft sounds followed, sexy, breathless sounds that made him want to pound up into her, drive them both to the explosive release he could feel teasing along his spine.

As if she could read his mind, she laced their fingers together, using his strength to rock herself harder.

And he’d thought the sight of her in that bikini would do him in. There was no comparison between the heat that had swum through his veins then to the scorching flames licking through his body now with every thrust.

Unable to help himself, he gripped her hips.

“Yes,” she hissed. “So close…so…”

He teased his thumb across her clit and her back arched, her body trembling. The sound of her orgasm, the carnal play of it across her face, the feel of her body clenching so sweetly around him, set him off.

With a groan that scraped his throat, he lifted his hips, pumping into her over and over, riding the edge of a release that ripped through him.

“I’m telling you,
Die Hard
’s John McClane could totally kick Han Solo’s ass.”

Bryce rolled his eyes, barely managing to hide his grin. “Not a chance.”

Darby turned over on her side to face him, the blanket slipping down to expose the tempting curve of her hip. “John McClane took out a whole building of Russian terrorists barefoot and wearing a wife-beater. That’s badass.”

“Han has his own starship.”

She pursed her lips, losing steam with her argument for the first time since they’d started talking about the best all-time movie heroes.

The sun was almost down, the fading light giving more than enough for him to clearly see every sexy expression play across her face. His favorite was when her nose scrunched up right before she got good and worked up, like when they’d debated who would win a verbal sparring match—Sherlock Holmes or Captain Jack Sparrow.

A humming sound broke the lull of the waves rolling up the beach, and he sat up, hunting for the source.

Looking sleepy, Darby sat up. “What is that?”

A dot on the horizon started to take shape. “Is that…” squinting as if it might bring the object into better focus, he crawled out from under the shelter and stood, “…a boat?”

Launching herself to her feet, Darby threw herself at him, wrapping an arm around his neck. “A boat! They found us.”

He frowned. “Why haven’t we seen Alex or Tate? Wouldn’t they have teleported directly to us and told us someone was coming?”

Darby’s smile fell, but she shook her head, yanking on shorts and a shirt. “Maybe they still can’t. Maybe there was a functioning transmitter on the plane after all.”

Telling himself to hurry, he yanked on his own clothes, his excitement slow to rise. He should be relieved that they’d be getting off the island and he could get his leg looked at, but all he could do was stare at the blanket that had been wrapped around Darby only moments ago. He could still feel her warmth curled against him and the slow sweep of her fingers as she drew them back and forth across his chest.

Faced with returning to their families, all he wanted was to stay right here, alone with Darby. They’d only finally made their peace with the past and already the present was going to shove its way back in before they’d had enough time together.

He knew their families weren’t the only reasons things had gone all to hell in the past, and if Finn and Bree could get past it, so could he and Darby. But he couldn’t shake the doubt that when they were back home, away from all this, they’d end up right back where they’d left off.

They could make things work here, but their track record in the real world left a little to be desired. What if what they had, what they’d found, wouldn’t be enough when they left?

No, he couldn’t let himself worry about that. They’d be fine. They had to be.

“What’s wrong?” She paused at the entrance to their shelter.

“Nothing. Just my leg,” he lied.

A grin flashed across her face. “Hurry,” she hollered then ran down to the beach.

Unable to keep up with her, he watched her wave her arms. “They’re going the wrong way,” she said when he reached the water’s edge.

“The fire.” Pivoting around, she sprinted for the signal fire.

He limped after her. “We won’t get it lit in time.” The boat was moving too fast and would disappear around the point in less than a minute.

“Yes, we will.” She pulled her arm out of the sling. “I think it’s healed enough.”

“Darby, wait—”

“Incendia exuro.”
Her amulet brightened, but quickly fizzled out.

Nothing happened. “It’s still too soon.” Not wanting to lose sight of the boat entirely, he grabbed her hand, pulling her in the direction of the point. “This way.”

“It’s moving too fast.” Her breath came in pants as they moved through the shallow water, wading up to their knees at a couple places to get past the rocky point.

“There are other beaches. Maybe they’re just guessing which one to land on.” A biting heat sank its teeth into his leg with every step, but he didn’t slow down, especially not when Darby moved ahead of him.

They didn’t spot the boat around the next point, but he was sure he could still hear the engine running. It couldn’t be much farther. The beach turned increasingly rocky, forcing them onto the shore and inside the shadows of the trees. Keeping as close to the water as they could, they moved at a steady pace, slowing only when the fading light made it hard to see the branches crisscrossing in front of them.

Twice more Darby tried to use her magic, determined to light their way with her amulet. The second time he thought she’d pulled it off, but only sparks the size of fireflies chased back the darkness—for a whole five seconds.

“Damn it.” She wiped at something on her forehead, and he didn’t tell her he thought she might have just walked through a spiderweb. She was already moving fast enough that he struggled to keep up.

The ground sloped away from them, forcing them to go slower. He should have been grateful for that, but it meant putting more weight on his bad leg to maintain his balance.