Utterly orgasmic.
Diego gathers me against him and picks up the pace. I’m sweaty and so swamped with pleasure, I can barely keep track of my own limbs, but I manage to wrap them around him like vines. And then I cling to him for dear life as the climax builds. Within me, yes, but I can feel he’s racing for it too.
I close my eyes, holding onto him with everything I have. He groans.
And then I let go.
Dual waves of pleasure and magic crash over me, his and mine. My mind goes blank. My body is pure sensation. I’m floating on a current of bliss, remnants of passion zipping through me like mini supernovas. My magic finally settles into something manageable, a contented purr of energy beneath my skin.
Diego gently lays me on the bed and brushes the hair out of my face.
“You okay?”
“Mmm. So much better than okay.”
He’s breathing hard and his eyelids droop like he’s about to fall asleep, but he hovers a hand over my head, my heart, my belly. Taking a reading of me. “Seems like your magic has leveled out,” he says.
“It has. Thank you.” I pull his face down to mine for a light kiss.
The look in his eyes is almost wistful as he strokes my cheek. “I meant it, Cat. This wasn’t just about the magic for me.”
I lean into his touch. “I know.”
With a last swipe of his thumb over my lips, he rolls off the bed and heads for the bathroom.
I watch him go, and I’m not offended when he shuts the door behind him. Truthfully, I need a minute too.
As much as I want to tell myself that this is just physical attraction, just grounding magic, it’s more. I know Diego. And he knows me. He understands me in a way no one else does. Not my family. Not my friends and coworkers in New York. Not any of the guys I dated briefly, both here on Isla Bruja or when I was pretending to be a regular non-magical human working in the fashion industry.
I am argumentative and never satisfied. I am competitive as fuck. I’m stubborn. But I also work my butt off. I’m a kickass fashion designer. And I’m loyal. Brave. Loving.
Diego sees all of that in me. And being with him makes me remember who I used to be. Who I am. Who I wanted to be, before my magic left me.
Maybe I can be more than I’ve been, without pushing myself to be too much.
Maybe with a grounding force like Diego, I won’t feel compelled to work myself into the ground to prove I’m better than my peers, better than my sisters, better than anyone on the island thought someone from my family could be.
But we have bigger problems right now. Our first two attempts to rid Matteo of the demon have failed. We only have one more chance before the wedding, and now the demon knows we’re onto him.
And I still have to enchant my sister’s dress.
Good thing my magic is back!
Diego finishes up and I take my turn in the bathroom. Now that the excess magic has been grounded, I’m exhausted by the events of the night. By our brush with death. By my revelations about Diego. By the return of my magic and an out-of-this-world orgasm.
He’s in the center of the bed when I return, and he holds out his arms for me to join him. I climb onto the bed and cuddle up beside him. It shouldn’t feel so right, but it does. More right than sleeping on opposite sides with miles of empty mattress between us.
He kisses my forehead and snuggles us into the pile of pillows. The air in the room is cool and smells like lilies and old, damp stones. It’s a bit like sleeping in a mausoleum, if I’m being honest. But as long as Diego’s arms are around me, I don’t care where we are.
CHAPTER SEVEN
To my delight and my mother’s dismay, Caro picked black as the color scheme for her wedding. Part of me suspects Caro did this for the express purpose of annoying our mom, because while Caro is the Good Daughter who will go along with something like a marriage merger, she is also the Queen of Passive Aggression.
Across from me, Diego taps his chin in thought. “I’m gonna…finger you like a ouija board.”
I snort at Diego’s latest attempt at brujería dirty talk. He’s keeping me company while I enchant Caro’s enormous black wedding dress in our room at the inn. We’re supposed to be finalizing our plan to banish the demon, but we’re also flirting. “That’s a reach.”
“I’m running out of ideas. Your turn.”
