My warm breath caresses his cold skin, and I can tell by the the soft intake of his breath that he’s reached his limit. He stands from his spot on the outdoor couch, and if I hadn’t already thought this far ahead, I would’ve toppled to the ground. I lock my legs around his waist as he tries to shake me off. He’s a strong man. He can easily remove me without pausing, but I know he won’t hurt me to do so. Wrapping myself around him keeps me safe from that happening. This is only one of the things I love about him. Even when he’s fuming mad, I don’t ever have to worry about him hurting me.
Love? How can I love him? I don’t know him.
“Did she break your heart?”
“Let me go,” he growls, tugging at my arms, but it’s no use. I’m not going anywhere. “Penelope.”
“You only call me Penelope when you’re cross with me. Why?”
“You’re asking a question you have no business asking.”
“No business? I’m your wife. Of course it’s my business,” I retort, feeling a small crack form in my resolve to break down his walls.
“In name only,” he snips before repeating himself. “You are my wife in name only.”
“You keep reminding me.” I lean back a little to look him in the eyes. He won’t look at my face. An idea percolates in the back of mind, and I can’t help myself. I have to know. “Do you think this is just about sex?”
I pause, letting the words sink into his brain. There have been too many moments between us for him to believe this is the kind of marriage I want. Unhappy and unfulfilled. Surely, he must know that I want more, and I want it with him.
“It’s not,” I inform him. “Everything you’ve ever asked about me, I’ve answered, without hesitation. I’ve told you everything about me, about my family, about my life before all this madness. But I know next to nothing about the man I call my husband. Nothing about his life, his friends, his family, and I can’t help wondering why. What does telling me a little about yourself do? How can that hurt you or me?”
“Penny—” he starts, finally meeting my eyes with his own. I see pain, a lot of pain, buried deep in his eyes. Pain I want to wipe clean from his memory, from his heart. I’d gladly do it if he would let me.
“Why is it whenever I ask about your life before me, you shut down and turn cold toward me?” I surge forward with no fucks to give. I’m not going down this time without a fight, because if I walk away, there will be no repairing what we have. I pull in a ragged breath, needing him to understand me now more than ever. “I know you’re running from something, something that has you twisted up inside. It has you convinced that you’re no good, and it’s not just me you believe this about. Your life is passing you by, and if you don’t do something about it soon, you’ll wake up one morning and realize what an old man you’ve become, but by then it will be too late.”
“Penny—”
“And just so we’re cystal clear, this is not what I want, Damien. Our marriage is in name only because you choose it to be. Not me. You’re my husband, and maybe that doesn’t mean anything to you, but it does to me. I’m not going to let you hide from me anymore.” I loosen my hands and feet in preparation to let each leg drop to the ground as I prepare to let him go. His eyes roam my face. “There is nothing you can do or say to me that will turn me against you. We are stuck with one another, whether you like it or not.”
“Penny—”
A new realization strikes me in the chest after I say those words, and for the first time since all of this started, I wonder if it’s because he doesn’t want me. The more I think it over, the more it makes sense. He’s pushed me away every chance. He keeps me at arm’s length. He’s told me repeatedly that he’s not right for me, but what if it’s the other way around? What if I’m not right for him?
He doesn’t want me.
It all makes sense now.
He chose me to protect me. He took me with him to protect me. He married me to protect me. He brought me here to this cabin to protect me.
Of course, he would feel the need to protect me. I’m the inexperienced girl who didn’t realize the nice man named Tiny at the bar was only trying to get me drunk so he could take advantage of me.
Nothing he’s done for me means he cares for me. At least not in the ways I care for him. And how could he? I’m a helpless, hopeless mess. I’m a job to him, and I have been since the moment I laid eyes on him.
He doesn’t want me.
“I get it now.” I swallow and let my arms fall from their spot around his neck. I unhook my ankles and slide one leg down and then the other, moving a few steps back because I can’t stomach being this close to him any longer. I want to turn and run. His face twists, and he reaches for me, clearly out of guilt, but I slap away his hands and take another step back. “No, don’t touch me.”
I feel like the world’s biggest fool. How could I believe that one day, he would care for me the way I care for him? I know now it will never happen. I’ll never be anything more to him than someone to protect.
Taking one last look at the man in front me, I turn and walk back inside, ignoring the burn of tears welling up in my eyes.
Such a fucking fool...
Chapter 21
Damien
She did it.
Fuck!
She’s left me speechless. Everything I wanted to argue, she argued first.
Fuck!
I shake my head trying to clear the confusion filling it, but I realize it isn’t my mind that’s confused. It’s my heart. And on so many levels, she’s right.
For far too long I’ve hidden the real Damien. The guys know me as a jokster, and that’s who I am normally. Only she doesn’t know me like they do. To her, I’m the asshole who’s done nothing but break her fucking heart every chance he gets.
She fought hard to break through my barriers, and at the end of it, despite the guilt churning in my gut, I feel hopeful.
Hopeful that my heart can have what it truly wants.
Love. Forgiveness. Her.
Them.
I shake my head again trying to tell my heart a firm NO, but I’m unable to do it. I blink once, then twice before comprehending Penny isn’t standing in front of me anymore. She’s disappeared.
“Fuck,” I swear to the empty air around me and walk into the cabin. It’s dark and cold. I shut the cabin door and walk across the room, shedding my shoes and jacket as I do. I walk down the hallway and stop at the closed door, listening for any sign of her. I hear nothing. No sound comes from her side of the door, and it kills me. I reach down to check the doorknob and find it locked.
Fuck!
She’s locked me out.
I take a breath trying to figure out why I care so much. This is what I wanted, isn’t it? For her to realize there can never be anything between us, so it’s best to keep our distance. The sooner she realizes I’m not the one for her, the better off we’ll both be.
Right?
I lift my arm to place a gentle knock on the door.
“Go away,” she mumbles from the other side, and my heart rails in my chest, aching over two little words. But then, she’s never turned me away.
“Penny, please let me in.” I should walk away. I should be relieved. Maybe she’s finally realizing what I’ve been saying all along. But I don’t and I’m not.
I groan, irritated with myself because I’m still standing at the door begging her to let me in, and I can’t figure out why.
No, that’s a lie.
I know why.
It’s the same reason why I open my mouth and say the words I thought would gut me.
“She’s my mother,” I croak. My body shivers, and my heart throbs so hard in my chest I think it can stop beating and the pain will still be there. “Starla is my mother.”
“Where is she?” I hear Penny’s soft voice ask, and the sudden rush of air fills my lungs with relief. I know she’s standing on the other side of the door.
“She died.” The sound of the lock turn
and the door opening is like music to my ears. Penny stands in the doorway, her jacket on the floor behind her along with the large boots. The oversized T-shirt I put her in when we got home and knee-high socks she had on send my body into a fit. She looks at me with wide blue eyes filled with sadness, but I don’t see a speck of pity. Only genuine sadness. I suspect it’s because she knows what it’s like to lose a mother. She lost hers long before her stepfather sold her.
“How did she die?” she whispers and steps across the threshold to wrap her arms around my middle. She buries her face in my chest.
“Cancer,” I croak because my throat feels like it’s closing up. I haven’t spoken about my mother since the day I flew back to Afghanistan and rejoined my team. I didn’t tell anyone what happened, not even the fact that I holed up in some cheap motel, drunk off my ass, and didn’t go to her funeral. I’ve bottled this up for a long time, but I can’t hold on to it anymore. My eyes burn from the unshed tears I’ve refused to let fall since finding out about her death. “I didn’t go to her funeral. I couldn’t.”
She leans back to look at me, and all I can do is look into her blue eyes, seeking the strength I need to get through the next part. My arms snake around her waist, holding her to me because I’m afraid to see her walk away again. Especially after learning about the kind of asshole I am. And I want to have her as close as possible until then.
“My oldest sister, Astrid, sent an emergency telegram. She needed me to call home immediately. I knew something was wrong but didn’t expect it to be my mother.”
“Was she sick for a long time?” I nod, swallowing down the emotions.
“She was in remission when I left on my deployment. It was the third time she managed to overcome the cancer, but it turns out everything they told me was a lie. Everyone knew she was dying and it wouldn’t be long before it claimed her. Instead of telling me, they fed me lie after lie about how much better she was doing.”
“I’m sorry, Damien.”
We stand in the doorway of the small bedroom, holding on to one another like our lives depend on it. Holding her is easy and has a strange calming effect on me. Then again, everything about the woman in my arms has had a strange effect on me. One I’ve never felt before, and it’s not for lack of trying either. I’ve been with many women over the years; none of them made me feel this way.
“This is why I can’t be with you, Penny. I’m broken. Too broken for a woman like you.”
“Why didn’t you go to her funeral?” she asks, ignoring what I’ve said to her. I swallow hard, reliving the moment I stepped onto US soil and everything hit me, knocking me out of the dreamlike state I was in after I called home.
“I was angry. At my family. At my mother. But mostly at myself for not seeing the signs. They were obvious, but I was desperate for her to be better,” I admit, feeling my chest tighten. “As much as I want to blame my family, I can’t. I had a hand in the deceit. Deep down, I knew she wasn’t well, but I boarded the plane anyway and didn’t look back.”
“You were close to her.” It’s not a question but an obvious fact.
“I’m the youngest of five. The only boy. Saying I was close to my mother is putting it mildly. She was my best friend and partner in crime. While my sisters had my father wrapped around their little fingers, I was my mother’s weakness.” I pull her tighter against me and close my eyes, allowing the scent of her jasmine body lotion to consume me. “Losing her... changed me. It nearly destroyed me.”
She doesn’t say anything, just continues to hold on to me like I hold on to her. Giving me strength and understanding. She doesn’t realize how much this means me. I ignore the nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me to stop, telling me how much harder it’s going to be for me to let her go at the end of this, because I want to live in the now. With her. Even if it’s just for a little while.
“I haven’t been home since that deployment. Haven’t seen or spoken to anyone. My sisters send me an occasional email, but I never respond. I’m too ashamed.” I should feel ashamed of myself for treating my family this way, but I don’t. Whether she thinks less of me or not, I don’t care. The words I’ve said here tonight are words I should’ve said a long time ago.
“Damien,” she whispers softly. and my ears perk up to the sound of her voice. Hoping she realizes now I’m no hero and I don’t deserve a chance at happiness. “You’re too hard on yourself.”
“Don’t you see? I’m no good. I turned my back on my family without a second thought.”
“You were grieving,” she explains, and while it makes sense, it still doesn’t excuse all these years of silence from me. The more I try to explain to her why we can’t happen, the more she pushes in the opposite direction, trying to give me a miraculous out.
I can’t have that.
I won’t allow it.
Chapter 22
Penelope
“Do you want me to hate you? Is that what this is about?” I ask, feeling more confused now than I did before. Listening to his confession has me spinning, but not in the direction he thinks I should go. I’m almost positive he thinks telling me this will make me run.
“Penelope—” he starts, and everything becomes clear. The inflection in his voice is filled with pain. He’s taken a big step telling me one of his darkest moments, but I’m not going to let him go backwards. Not when everything about him is beginning to make sense.
“Don’t you fucking Penelope me. I may be young and inexperienced, but I’m not a child,” I retort and push away from him. I don’t want to break the connection between us, but for the next part of my plan to work, I have to do it. “Or do you need a reminder?”
I reach for the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head, tossing the material off to the side. His eyes widen at the sight of my bare breasts, and they darken like emeralds, filling with need. He swallows hard, and I see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he flounders his next sentence.
I shiver as my nipples harden under the heat of his stare. I could be standing in the middle of a blizzard, naked, and still be warm if he keeps looking at me like that.
This is probably not the best way to go about tearing down the rest of his defense system, especially after he’s finally opened up to me about his life, but I can’t wait any longer.
He’s clearly affected by my nakedness, and I love it. I smirk and hook my thumbs into my panties, but the movement pulls him out of his trance. His green eyes focus on my face, desperate to ignore my body.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he growls.
“Exactly what it looks like.”
“Put your shirt back on.”
His face flushes, and I let my eyes fall down his body to see how far I’m going to have to go before he snaps. I might be a virgin, but I have plenty of knowledge about how things work. This won’t be the first time I’ve seen him hard.
And he is hard.
Very hard.
He shifts under my gaze, trying to hide himself from me, but it’s too late for modesty. The sound of heavy breathing fills the quiet, making me feel powerful. Teasing him this way is far more exciting than I thought it would be, and it’s ruining my panties.
“Penny, I’m not kidding,” he warns, but I ignore him. If I stop now, I may never have the courage to do this again. I have to keep going.
“Neither am I, Damien,” I whisper huskily. My nipples throb painfully as they harden more. I’ve never felt so turned on in my life. I feel breathless and alive all at the same time. When I push the sapphire lace thong lower on my hips, Damien reaches out to grab my hands and stops me from lowering the flimsy material any further. I look up, catching his gaze. Electricity crackles from the connection.
“You’re playing with fire.”
“Maybe I want to feel the burn. Can you handle that?”
“Penny...” he trails off, his voice tight and controlled. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” I tell hi
m and take a step forward. I pull away from his grip. He tenses but doesn’t move. I get close enough to feel the heat of his body through his clothing. “I know you want me, Damien.”
“I don’t,” he affirms, but he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. The way his voice hitches and his eyes burn into mine, I know he’s lying.
“You do.” I take another step closer, placing my naked body in the last bit of personal space he has. I lift my arms and wrap them around his thick, corded neck.
I watch him clutch his hands into a fist as he fights his baser instinct to throw me over his shoulder and spend the week teaching me what it means to play with fire. I wish he would give in already. I want to know what it feels like to have my body pressed against his. Or what it feels like pushing each other to the threshold of ectasy.
“You’re making it very hard to do the right thing.”
“Isn’t that the point. To make it hard?” I lower an arm between us and brush my hand against the front of his pants. I grip his hardness firmly in my hand, giving it a little squeeze. The sharp intake of his breath causes a reaction in my own body, leaving me achy and unfulfilled.
“Penny, I’m being serious.” His eyes narrow, and he grasps my wrist. The other hand unwinds one of my arms from his neck, and he steps back. “We can’t do this.”
“Yes, we can.”
“No,” he breathes before closing his eyes, and he shakes his head like he’s in disbelief. When he opens his eyes again to look down at me, I see he’s reined in the lust he felt for me moments before.
“Why do you keep doing this?” I ask, feeling defeated. “You want me. I know you do.”
He takes a deep breath and let’s out a long, exhausted sigh. “I do want you, Penny. So bad it’s tearing me apart.”
“It’s me, then? Is there something about me that puts you off? I can try to fix it. Just tell me what—”
“It’s not you.” He motions toward the hardness tenting his pants. “You’re perfect.”
Lost in the Shadows (The Lost Series Book 3) Page 11