Must Be Magic (Spellbound Book 4)

by Sydney Somers

  “If I could go back and do things differently, I would,” she said after a long minute.

  “I’m not sure that’s enough.”

  Hurt, followed by a flicker of anger, flared in her eyes. “That’s all I’ve got.”

  Not wanting to say something he couldn’t take back, he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the stab of pain that sliced across his leg.

  He felt Darby watching him as he walked away, but she thankfully didn’t follow him.

  It was easy for her to sit there and say she’d do things differently. She’d had ten years to sort through everything. He hadn’t even had ten minutes.

  Halfway back to their campsite he stopped, cursing under his breath.

  Jesus. How much of an ass was he?

  It hadn’t been easy for her. None of it had. Not his lying about who he was, his father dismissing the pregnancy or her losing the baby. And he’d bet that as much as Dante had wanted to protect her, he hadn’t been easy on her either.

  How long were he and Darby going to keep doing this? Blaming each other for something they couldn’t change?

  He let out a frustrated breath. They’d both tried to reach out to the other, both felt the same bitter disappointment when it hadn’t worked. Then they’d spent the next decade holding it against one another, letting it strip away all the things they’d loved about each other until all they had left were cruel looks and scathing comments.

  Hadn’t it gone on long enough?

  * * *

  Darby refused to let herself cry, staying where she was even though part of her ached to follow Bryce.

  Knowing there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d catch a fish, she made herself pick up the waste-of-time fishing pole anyway. It gave her something to do other than wonder what he was thinking.

  The old Bryce, the one she’d met in Florida and glimpsed again in St. Lucia, had surfaced after the longest, scariest night of her life, and she hated the thought of losing him again.

  This morning had been the first time she’d forgotten to worry about what would happen. They’d laughed and flirted and when he’d shown up with his fishing pole, seemingly intent on seducing her, she’d nearly melted in his arms.

  He just needed some time—

  Something jerked on the end of her line.

  Holy shit.

  Darby scrambled to her feet, hauling on the fishing pole as hard as she could. She backed up, slamming into a wall that shouldn’t have been there.

  “Easy,” Bryce murmured when she would have spun around. His arms came around her, his hands closing over hers on the pole.

  She didn’t need to turn around or say anything. In that moment she knew the only thing that counted—she hadn’t lost him. The rest they could talk about later, when she wasn’t trying to keep the emotional roller coaster she’d been riding firmly on its tracks.

  Each breath she drew seemed to trickle into her lungs, and she tightened her fingers around the pole. If she had a grip on that, she wouldn’t fall apart. There had been plenty of time for that—after the wedding reception, after the crash, when he’d burned so hot with a fever she didn’t think would break on its own.

  It was stupid to even think about falling apart when Bryce was right there.

  He hadn’t walked away.

  With a solid yank, Bryce brought both their arms back, and the fish sailed out of the water to land with a smacking sound on the sandbar. The impact knocked the hook loose, and it flopped around unhindered.

  Darby dropped the pole. “Take off your shirt.”

  “Now who’s the one talking about getting naked?” The sight of his devilish smile made her breath catch.

  He hadn’t gotten it all the way off before she snatched it out of his hands and dove for the fish.

  “Slippery little bastard,” she gritted out, working the shirt around the fish, fully aware what she must look like trying to pull that off with one arm.

  Whatever guilt she might have felt over the fish’s suffering faded the second her stomach growled at the thought of eating.

  She walked to where Bryce stood watching her carefully, and handed him the fish. “Guess I won.”

  Half a second later she was in his arms. He shouldn’t have been able to move that fast, not after the last few days. He shouldn’t have even wanted to after the conversation he’d barely had time to digest.

  But his hand was fisted in her hair, and the other was around her back, holding her tighter, more possessively than she could remember. She didn’t wait for him, but rocked up on her toes, sliding her arm around his neck and covering his mouth with hers.

  For one slow, molten moment, the world stopped spinning. She could feel the heat of the sun, hear the water lapping at the sandbar, smell the salt water—but it all felt so much farther away.

  But Bryce…he was there, the center of gravity holding her to the earth.

  His tongue pushed between her lips, sinking slow and deep, and dragging her right along with him. She curled her fingers, catching the ends of his hair.

  Kissing him on St. Lucia had felt familiar, a moment snatched from the past that she could cling to for just a moment longer.

  But now every moment felt rooted in the present, rich, alive and more potent than anything she’d ever experienced.

  The staggering longing she felt with every sweep of his mouth, the long pauses where they fought to catch their breath, only to fall back into tasting each other, made it impossible to think.

  “I love you.” She murmured the words against his lips, right before the last brush of her mouth across his.

  And then she broke away, taking a little step back. She was pretty sure her smile fell on the goofy side instead of the sexy one, but she couldn’t make herself care.

  He’d just kissed her to a mind-blowing degree, one that was still working its way through her system, turning her upside down and inside out, and he looked like he was a heartbeat from doing it again.

  She took another step backward, then two more. She wasn’t running from him, but she wasn’t letting him off the hook either.

  “Don’t even think that gets you a pass.” She nodded to where their dinner lay, still wrapped in Bryce’s shirt at his feet, abandoned the moment he’d reached for her.

  Laughing, he scooped it up and followed her back to their camp.

  * * *

  Bryce was still laughing at her a while later, after he’d cleaned the fish and had set it to cook on the flat rocks in the middle of the fire pit.

  Relaxed and happy for the first time in days, Darby had used the opportunity to grab the soap he’d just finished using and head back down to the water’s edge.

  What started out as a quick trip to rinse off after her unexpected fishing success changed the moment she felt Bryce’s eyes on her.

  From the corner of her eye, she could see him watching her from where he lay back on his elbows at the edge of the beach, beneath the shade of a tree.

  Not wanting to get the sling wet, she carefully removed it but continued to hold her arm against her body in the customary L shape. She wasn’t sure exactly what inspired her to undo the bathing suit top too. She hadn’t had the courage to wear it in St. Lucia, but she loosened the strings with her good arm and let it drop to the sand. Bryce sat up, his heavy gaze following her into the water where she soaped up her hands and ran them across her stomach.

  The way Bryce watched her made her feel sexy and empowered, and she couldn’t resist sliding her hands higher.

  For a moment she let herself imagine it was his hands cupping her breasts, his fingers that slowly circled her nipples, spreading the soap across her entire chest in one lathering rub after another.

  Bryce hadn’t moved an inch, his rapt attention encouraging her to slip out of the bikini bottoms. She tossed them back on the shore.

  Returning to her stomach, she worked the soap beneath her palm, drawing it lower. Between her legs ached, and the moment she stroked the inside of her thighs, she bit her lip
to hold back a moan.

  The memory of their kiss—one that still had butterflies tangoing through her midsection each time she caught Bryce staring at her—played through her head over and over, except in her mind they didn’t stop.

  The cool water made her already tight nipples throb as she rinsed off, her highly sensitized body feeling every rivulet of water that ran off her body.

  She’d started this to tease Bryce and somehow got herself more worked up than—

  Where did he go?

  She scanned the immediate area but couldn’t see Bryce. He’d left his spot close beneath the tree and…vanished?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Apparently she put on a riveting show, Darby thought dryly.

  Wondering where he’d gone, she tugged her bikini bottoms on, a challenge when she still hadn’t grown fully accustomed to using just one hand.

  She lowered her bad arm, and although there were no longer any sharp pains, it was still tender. Not wanting to aggravate the healing muscles, she looped her bikini top around her neck but only gathered and held the ties behind her back with her good arm.

  Bryce would have to tie them again for her.

  She walked back up the beach. “Bryce?”

  She heard him under the shelter before she saw him. His suitcase had been ransacked, judging by the clothes strewn about under the raft.

  What was he looking—

  “Condoms.” Gaze fixed on her, he crawled out from beneath the raft, dropping the packets on the ground.

  The sight of her seemed to freeze him in his tracks, and his expression turned hungry.

  How could he make her feel so desired, so absolutely coveted, with just a look?

  On his knees, he gripped her hips, tugging her forward.

  Emotions she could barely discern traced across his face—lust, happiness and something deeper, something that made her heart stumble in her chest.

  “I’m insanely in love with you, Darby Calder. Have been most of my life.”

  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 and 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.”