Chapter 22
DEVLIN
It seemed that they could be grown-ups about it. Boring, polite, sensible grown-ups who skirted around each other and found the floor interesting to look at, and spent a lot of time talking about the weather when they found themselves in the same space.
The morning passed in a fit of uncomfortable silences and too many comments on the way the storm wasn’t letting up. Devlin moped around in a pair of joggers and a T-shirt he’d found in the bunkroom cupboard, muttering to himself about what an idiot he was and then wondering why he felt so weird about it all. Devlin Storm wasn’t a man who cared about other people’s feelings, was he? So why, all of a sudden, did he seem to have developed a conscience about Darcy?
He’d eaten her tin of fruit and drunk the world’s worst coffee and watched as she’d slunk out of the room in a fluffy robe that was wrapped so tightly around her waist that it clung to her curves like a second skin. Then he’d taken up residence in the little office room and pretended the radio was in need of a companion.
And yet, every single second Devlin was prodding the buttons or swinging around on the office chair, all he could concentrate on was the thought of Darcy Wainwright and the hold she had over him. From the moment she’d told him no back at the Royal Alpine, Darcy had done nothing but treat him like a normal human being. Yes, one who seemed to annoy the heck out of her, but a human all the same. Devlin was so used to people meeting his every ridiculous request and pandering to him that this had been a nice surprise. He felt like he could drop the pretence around Darcy and in doing so, snap free the iron chain that had been taut around his chest for so long. He felt like the real Devlin, breaking free from the captive of the persona he’d built around him.
And then he’d ruined it by trying to kiss the one person who allowed him that freedom.
Not everyone who’s nice to you wants to kiss you, Devlin! Only, as Devlin thought it, he realised it actually might be true. Most of the women, and some of the men, who dared to approach him did just want one thing from him. The chance to tell their friends they’d kissed the famous Storm. The chance to sell their story to the papers. With Darcy, though, he’d mistaken her kindness for something else. He must have done. It wasn’t often he was so blindsided.
“Urgh.” Devlin sighed into his hands and dropped his head on the desk. Of all the weird, crazy risks he’d taken in the last few days, he hadn’t been expecting a kiss to be the one to finally floor him. Hypothermia, maybe. Frostbite, definitely. Darcy Wainwright, not even on the list.
And he knew that was where he’d gone wrong.
“Is everything okay?” Darcy peeked around the door to the office. “Only, I heard you groaning and you’re sitting by the one means of communication we have with the outside world. Is help going to take longer? Are they leaving us here for an indefinite amount of time and you’re worried about being here with me for any longer than you have to?”
Devlin shook his head. “No. Nothing to worry about. The radio is fine and there’s been no more contact yet. Not surprising given the way the storm isn’t abating. I was just—”
“You’re worried we’re going to run out of things to say about the snow before we get rescued?” Darcy asked, her gorgeous lips spreading into a smile. “Oh, and I was bringing you some lunch by the way, not eavesdropping on you.”
“It never crossed my mind,” Devlin said, sitting upright. “Come in.”
She stepped into the room, a bowl in one hand, cup in the other.
“It’s another tinned beauty,” she said, holding out the bowl. Steam rose from it, despite the heat of the room. “And some tea.”
Devlin took the food with thanks, peering into the bowl at a pile of filled pasta covered in a red sauce.
“Not bad,” he admitted, his stomach grumbling at the smell of hot food. “They sure know how to treat their guests at this place, don’t they? Thank you, Darcy.”
“I just heated it in a saucepan, the tin did the rest.” Darcy nodded and skittered back out to the living room. Devlin followed, forking in a mouthful of food as he went. There was a place setting on the table by the window and Devlin took the seat next to it as Darcy dished her own portion from the pan to her plate.
Through the glass, the visibility was worse than it had been since they arrived. Devlin could feel the coldness of the snow seeping through the window, even though it was sealed tightly shut. He watched Darcy’s fluid movements, her too-big joggers hanging by her hips, her jumper sleeves rolled up so they didn’t swamp her hands. She was perfect. He had to remind himself that she had said no, in so many words, and he respected that, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate her from afar.
“It’s not a steak, but I think there might be meat inside the little pasta shapes,” Darcy said, sitting down and tucking in.
“I dreamt of my mum’s roast dinner last night,” said Devlin, his mouth watering. “Crispy potatoes and a rare cut of beef.”
“I’m surprised you slept enough to dream at all on that sofa,” Darcy said. “It looks older than me.”
Devlin looked down at his food, poking a pasta with his fork.
“You could have come in to the bunks, you know,” Darcy added. “There was no need for you to sleep out here.”
“Honestly, Darcy?” Devlin said. “I did come through and when I heard you snoring, I grabbed a blanket and decided on the sofa.”
Darcy was mid-chew so she rolled her eyes at him and pouted, the pillow of her lips doing strange things to Devlin’s stomach. He pinched his nose and carried on with his lunch.
She doesn’t like you like that. Have some control.
“My snoring is cute,” she protested when she’d finished, brow raised. “So I’ve been told.”
“Told by whom? The racoons who live in the trees by the lodge?” Devlin teased, not wanting to picture the lucky man who had once gotten to listen to Darcy’s snoring every night.
“My mum actually,” Darcy said, her chin pointing at him in defiance.
“Well in that case . . .” Devlin left his sentence open, shrugging.
Darcy smiled at him, and their eyes hooked for a beat. And another. She was so beautiful it made his whole body ache. He needed to remove himself from the room. He needed to go outside and throw himself into the snow to cool off.
Standing abruptly, Devlin knocked the fork from his food onto the table where it clattered loudly. Darcy stood, too, eyes wide.
“Devlin—”
“Darcy—”
They spoke over each other, Devlin closing the gap between them until he could see the galaxy in the sprinkling of freckles on her nose. The tension between them was pulled so tight, that even this close, it felt as though Darcy was a whole world away. Devlin couldn’t breathe.
“Are you going to kiss me?” she whispered.
Devlin shook his head. “I didn’t think you wanted me to.” The words squeezed out despite the malfunctioning of his chest muscles.
“I think I actually might do,” she breathed, and Devlin felt himself unravel as she carried on talking. “I’m so sorry about last night. I panicked. You’re Devlin Storm, a man who has adventure running through his veins. I’m Darcy Wainwright, a woman who runs the other way when faced with it. You’re the biggest adventure I’ve ever faced and I guess . . . well, I’m scared Devlin. I’m scared that you’re going to kiss me and realise that I’m different to the rest of the women you’ve kissed. And then you’ll leave and I’ll never see you ag—”
Devlin didn’t let her finish. He hooked his good arm around her waist and lifted her up so she was sitting on the table. He pushed her legs apart and stood between them, dropping his head and pressing his lips against hers. She groaned into his mouth and tasted of basil and sweetness. Devlin couldn’t hold back, kissing her hard and fast, his hand in her hair. Her hands snaked around his back, pulling him closer to her, nails raking down the back of his T-shirt. He grunted and saw flashes of colour swimming to the surface of his icy shackles. Fire exploded in his abdomen.
“Darcy,” he breathed into her mouth and felt her body press into his, trying to get as close as she could.
Her cheeks were pink, her breathing faster than even Devlin’s was. He stepped closer, pushing her legs further apart, sliding his hand down her back and under her jumper to hitch her up to him. He needed no air between them. He needed friction, his skin on hers. She wore nothing under her giant jumper and as his fingers stroked her spine, she moaned into his mouth and arched her back.
“You’re . . . something . . . else,” he whispered. Each word dotted between kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her neck.
Devlin explored the skin in the dimple of her collar bone, trailing a tongue over the gap and back up her throat to her mouth. He couldn’t get enough. She was perfect. She tasted just how he imagined. Her skin was so soft under his calloused palm. He dipped his head and met her lips with his again, tentatively exploring between them with his tongue. When she answered with her own, Devlin felt his heart hammer against his rib cage.
He felt Darcy’s breath hitch, her lips parting as Devlin’s tongue teased hers, sending shivers down his spine. Her hands fisted the fabric of his T-shirt, pulling him even closer, desperate for more. His lips moved hungrily, and he struggled to slow himself down, be more deliberate, memorising every curve, every taste of her mouth. The rhythm of their kiss shifted, deepening with each passing second, until the world outside of them ceased to exist.
Darcy’s legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him even closer. His good hand roamed her sides, slipping again beneath the hem of her jumper, warm against her bare skin. She gasped, breaking the kiss for the briefest of moments.
“Darcy?” Devlin murmured, voice hoarse with restraint, her breath hot and rapid against his lips. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered back, her voice shaky but certain. “Not this time.”
Their eyes locked again, and for a heartbeat, there was only silence. Devlin’s thumb traced the line of her jaw, his touch gentle, tender, in stark contrast to the passion of their kiss. His gaze flickered over her, from her flushed cheeks to her swollen lips, before he leaned in again, sealing her promise with one final, slow kiss that left her trembling.
The heat between them was undeniable, blazing and relentless, but beneath it was something deeper — something that threatened to consume them both. And as Devlin finally pulled away, their lips parting with a soft gasp, they both knew they had crossed a line. One that couldn’t be undone.
But neither of them cared.