Chapter 25
DARCY
Darcy didn’t want to think about how Devlin spent his Friday nights, because she was sure it wasn’t holed up in his penthouse with a cat. She couldn’t think like that. It would drive her to distraction, especially after what had just happened between them. What was still happening between them. He had taken her to sweet oblivion and she wanted to make him feel the same.
In the soft light of the bunkroom, the snow-filled windows providing a screen from the setting sun, she could see his every single muscle was perfectly defined, the beat of his pulse just above his collar bone thumping hard and fast. And when she looked up from the wall of his chest, his eyes, all pupil, were focused on her lips.
She was helpless. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Darcy hadn’t expected to fall for Devlin, not like this. Not this easily or quickly. Not when she knew what he was like. Now, though, she couldn’t help but think that wasn’t what he was like.
Darcy ran her hand across his abdomen, her skin tingling as he groaned at her touch. She felt in control and powerful. She was in charge now and her whole body was buzzing with the idea that he would let her take control.
Spreading her fingers under his waistband, she inched his trousers down until she found what she wanted. She gripped him and started stroking as Devlin moaned with satisfaction.
“Is this okay?” she whispered, lifting herself up and straddling him.
He took a moment to focus and then squeezed her fingers as a guttural noise came from deep inside him. Darcy watched as he studied her naked body, as though she was a work of art, her skin tingling at the intensity of his gaze. She had never felt more alive as Devlin lifted her hips and adjusted their position until they were perfectly aligned. He was reading her body like a favourite book he knew from cover to cover. And soon their bodies were moving together in perfect rhythm.
“You’re perfect, Darcy Wainwright,” he whispered in her ear.
Darcy wanted to reply, but her voice was lost, swallowed by the deep, aching pull of pleasure as she surrendered to him completely.
* * *
Darcy lay quietly smiling, the faint glow of the sun now gone, the bunkroom dark. She felt the weight of Devlin’s arm on her stomach, the heat of his body next to hers. The outpost was still warm with the heating, but the lack of sunlight made Darcy shiver. The night had been perfect for her but what about Devlin? His girlfriends were all models and far more experienced than she was. What if she hadn’t been good for him?
As if he could read her mind Devlin looked at her.
“I know what you’re thinking. I know what people say about me. I know my reputation isn’t exactly . . . decent.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. Not exactly decent? She thought about the stories she’d read in the papers and magazines, the exposés and scandals. According to the press, Devlin seemed to have a new girlfriend every week — and sometimes two or three. Those risqué stories didn’t exactly match the man she was lying next to now, though, and the thought of hearing him talk about his past was surprisingly painful.
Her mind started spiralling back to reality. To the world outside the snow-covered outpost. A world where Devlin Storm was a figure larger than life, untouchable, reckless and adventurous. A man who never stayed in one place for very long. Or with one person. She didn’t want to be a fleeting moment in his life. A story he could retell one day when they were home and safe. A soft sound escaped her, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. Two days ago, the idea of being stuck with Devlin had been a nightmare, yet now she was afraid of losing him.
“What you have read about me, everyone’s idea that I’m a heartbreaker, it’s just not true.” Devlin studied her with an intense gaze. “It is important to me that you believe that.”
Darcy smiled softly, not wanting to say all her fears out loud in case it made them true.
“Let me tell you something,” Devlin went on. “Something else you won’t read anywhere. Something absolutely nobody knows about me, other than my mum.”
A sudden gust of wind shook the cabin and Darcy leaned in towards him as if he might provide shelter, tugging the blanket up to their chins. Devlin wrapped his good arm around her, and despite the topic of conversation all she could think about was those lips, and how good they had tasted. She tore her gaze away, meeting his eyes instead.
“I’ve only had three girlfriends in my life.”
Darcy frowned.
“What?” She wondered if he was lying to her, trying to put her at ease after what had just happened between them, but his face was open and honest.
“Three,” he said again. “One when I was a teenager. Delia and I were together for years. Then I was with another woman, Anna, in my early twenties.”
“Then there was Claudia, right?” Darcy asked, feeling a wave of jealousy pass over her. “Claudia Romano. The supermodel.”
Devlin nodded, his face growing stony. Darcy had read a few stories about their tumultuous relationship, about the fights and the make-ups and the million-pound holidays. She was fairly sure it was reported they’d been engaged to be married at one point.
“She’s beautiful,” Darcy said, looking at the ceiling. “All long limbs and glossy hair and perfect features.”
What had she been thinking, kissing this man, having sex with him? He was used to dating the most amazing women in the world. Why on earth did she think she was special enough to join their ranks?
“She was voted the most stunning woman in the world at one point, wasn’t she?” Darcy went on, not able to stop the comparisons.
“Two years running,” said Devlin, which didn’t exactly help. He took a deep breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Darcy watched his face twist as he thought through what he was going to say next.
“Claudia was the perfect model, yes,” he said. “But she wasn’t beautiful. Not really.”
“Not if you’re more into bog trolls and Jabba the Hut,” she joked, looking away again.
“Hey,” he said, tilting her chin towards him. “Eyes on me.”
Devlin looked at her with a stare that stopped her in her tracks as he carried on talking.
“She really wasn’t beautiful. I mean, I found her attractive in the beginning, but it soon wore off. Her beauty was superficial, all hard edges. She really wasn’t very nice, you know.”
He dropped a kiss on Darcy’s lips.
“You were together for years, weren’t you?” she asked. He nodded.
“Six, nearly,” he said. “It was okay, if that makes sense? Grew into something I was comfortable with. Neither of us showed the other much affection, but that suited us, you know? But when I ended it she sold stories about us to the press. She knew I liked my privacy, to hide behind the image I had created, but she sold the stories anyway. She likes the front page and the celebrity status too much. I provided that.”
“I’m so sorry, Devlin,” Darcy said. “So . . . the press, all those articles about you, the supermodels and movie stars. They’re made up?”
“They’re just stories,” he said. “I go on dates, sure, but they never lead to anything serious. It’s not worth the risk. We have a few drinks, let the papers take their photos and concoct their lies. Then we part company.”
“And the women go along with this?” Darcy asked.
He nodded again. “They have to. They have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before I will even see them.”
“So they don’t talk about you in your pants eating cereal?” Darcy asked, smiling sadly. “Why do it?”
“It all feeds into my reputation, and that’s why my clothes sell and my business is so profitable.”
“No,” said Darcy, taking his good hand and holding it between both of hers. “No, that’s not true. Your business works because you do. Your clothes sell because they’re amazing, because you put so much of yourself into them. That story you told me, about making the dress for your mum. It was beautiful, and you put the same care and love into everything you design. It’s there in every stitch, in every fold, in every seam. Trust me, I’ve tried on a few Devlin Storm dresses in my time — not that I’ve ever had nearly enough money to buy one — and they’re amazing. They’re life-changing. These hands are why your clothes are so wonderful.”
She kissed his cheek and rested her forehead against his. “This mind is why you are so creative, and so successful. Forget about your reputation for a moment. People see your clothes and they see your soul in everything you make.”
Devlin eyes grew heavy lidded, never leaving hers. His chest rose and fell steadily.
“I’ve never thought about it that way,” he said quietly. “How do you know exactly what to say?”
“Because I feel like I know you,” she said. “It’s impossible, I get it. We have only been here a couple of days, but we’ve been through so much. I’m sorry, I know it must sound crazy.”
“It doesn’t,” he said, his lips curving into a smile. “I think it’s called trauma bonding.”
Darcy hit his chest softly in jest.
“Oy,” she said, smiling. “Don’t belittle this. Sounds like we’ve both been through enough past trauma to have enough bonds with that to keep us going. This is—”
Darcy didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence as Devlin covered her lips with his own.
“You’re anything but trauma,” he spoke onto her lips. “Now shut up and kiss me.”
“Happily,” Darcy whispered.
I would happily spend my life right here with you. Every last day of it.
And she was so certain it was the truth. She was so sure.
Until she woke up the next morning to find that Devlin had gone .