Page 18 of Suddenly Tempted
Devlin froze. Was Darcy feeling the same way he was? Did she want him to taste her now? He cast his eyes sideways. Her profile was like the Alps, peaks and troughs forming her perfect nose and lips. Lips that he bet tasted as sweet as the rest of her would. A heat buried itself deep in his stomach, pulsing through his body enough for him to forget his broken arm.
“Are . . . are you sure?” he stuttered. He didn’t know what had come over him. Put him in bed with a gorgeous woman and he was never lost for words or moves. Darcy, though, she was something else.
“Well, I’m not sure I am anymore,” she said, and Devlin silently cursed his hesitancy. “I offer myself up as a meal in the worst-case scenario and you don’t return the favour. I mean, I get that it’s not the easiest decision to make, but you could offer me a finger to chew on or some ribs.”
She drew silent for a moment and the reality of what she had actually been offering sank in. Devlin felt like an idiot. Of course she didn’t want him to devour her in the same way he wanted to.
“Though maybe it is an easy decision for you,” she went on. “Given that you’re a survival expert and I’m a loser who doesn’t like adventure. It would be best if I go first anyway, there’s not an inch of fat on you. I’d have to rely on gristly muscle. Whereas my backside could feed you for a week.”
Devlin lifted the pillow and buried his face in it, groaning. This woman had no idea what effect she was having on him and it was more painful than the break in his bones.
“I know, I know,” she continued. “Stop talking and get some sleep because tomorrow is going to be hard. But I’m still cold and my feet feel damp and I’m sharing a bed with a man who flew a helicopter into a mountain after promising to keep me safe. It’s not conducive to forty winks, let alone a great night’s sleep. And I normally wear an eye mask.”
Devlin answered with a grunt, trying not to picture Darcy in a blindfold. She was right, though, he was cold, too, and his arm ached, and at the end of the day they were stranded because he’d been reckless. Darcy shuffled again beside him, turning onto her side and curling into a little ball, her back brushing his hip.
“Not even a little toe,” she mumbled, before her breathing settled into the unmistakable rhythm of sleep.
Devlin pulled the covers up to his chin, watching Darcy’s back rise and fall through the blankets. When was the last time he’d shared a moment like that with a woman? It had been years. For all his reputation as a womanising playboy, he was actually terrified of relationships — especially after the way his father had treated his mother. He’d always been better off on his own. Devlin Storm the island, Devlin Storm themountain, aloof and indifferent.
So what was it about Darcy that made him feel so different? What was it about her that made him feel like he was at risk of coming undone?
As if trying to answer him, the wind rattled the cabin, throwing sleet and snow against the window. Devlin shuddered, glancing at the fire. The logs they’d thrown on were burned away, so reluctantly, he cast off the blankets and walked through to the room at the front of the cabin. He tucked one log underneath his throbbing right arm, then managed to scoop another two in his left. He was halfway through the door again when he paused, looking across the room.
His suitcase sat there, by the front door. He wished he’d had the foresight to fill it with equipment, the same supplies he would have taken with him if he was going out on a cross-country ski run: a flare gun, utility tools, emergency food, foil blankets, and of course, a satellite phone for emergencies. But they all lay at the bottom of the ravine along with the helicopter and mobile phones that would be useless up here anyway. Instead, other than his passport, the case held only one thing.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll make it right.”
Feeling the sharp pains of grief and regret, he walked back into the living room, threw the logs on the fire, then lay down and tried to sleep.
Chapter 10
DARCY
Darcy stirred, lost in dreams of making snowmen in her backyard in Wisconsin. She shivered, rolling over in her bed and snuggling up to the shape next to her.
Then she frowned.
Where on earth was she? The mattress beneath her felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable, and the blankets were cold and musty. There was no noise but the howling of the wind and the creaking of wood — those and the murmurs of the man lying beside her.
Her eyes shot open and, just like that, it came rushing back as fast and loud as an avalanche. The helicopter ride. The blizzard. The crash. And Devlin Storm.
She was cuddling up to Devlin Storm.
Gritting her teeth, she slid her arm free and wriggled away from him. He stirred again, an expression of pain crossing his features for a moment before flitting away. He licked his lips, and Darcy found herself licking hers too.
“Don’t leave,” Devlin mumbled in his sleep. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
A burst of laughter escaped Darcy and she covered her mouth with her hand so she didn’t wake him. The infamous Devlin Storm, the bad-boy billionaire, and here he was telling her she was the most beautiful women he’d ever met. Maybe he was delirious from his injury. He didn’t look like he had a temperature, but looks could be deceiving.
Darcy rolled slowly onto her back, careful not to jostle his bad arm. The laugh was short lived, because all she could think about was how long it had been since anyone had told her that — asleep or awake. Of course, she’d had boyfriends back in Wisconsin but nothing serious. They’d all been fun while they lasted, but the problem was they never lasted. Darcy was so busy looking after her mum and the house that the men she seemed to pick took issue with where she placed them in her priorities.
None of them would have believed where she was now and who she was with. Darcy Wainwright was not an adventurer. No. She was timid, cute, quiet, a mouse. One date she’d been with had even questioned if she was a selective mute.
He was one of the many reasons she’d flown to Europe four years ago. After her mum died, Darcy had wanted to find comfort with a partner, someone who could help her see the way through the grief. But instead she’d found more hurt and knew that there was nothing left to keep her in Lancaster. That comment had really upset her, and she’d jumped at the chance of moving halfway around the world to get away from judgemental men, and maybe show them she was more adventurous than they’d thought.
Weirdly, though, Darcy felt more secure with the sleeping man beside her than she had with any of those dates. Even though the sleeping man was a great hulking sack of grumpiness who didn’t really care about her. Darcy stifled another giggle. That didn’t really bode well for her love life, did it?
Why are you thinking about love?she asked herself, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She looked at Devlin. There was no way she could ever feel attracted to somebody as selfish and as mean as he was. It just wasn’t in her nature to be with a man like that. She needed somebody thoughtful, and kind, and compassionate, somebody who didn’t try to put her down or insult her or order her about with every word.
