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 him 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.”

“Then what is it? I don’t understand.” I step back, and he releases his hold on me. Feeling exposed, I look around, searching for something to cover myself with. The idea of putting my clothing back on makes me sick to my stomach, and a feeling of shame washes over me. So much for being the kind of woman who knows what she wants and goes after it.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he admits and takes a deep breath. “I’m afraid of hurting you.”

His words cause something to take root within me. Something I’ve never felt before. It’s no secret that I’ve felt strong feelings for him for some time now, whether he wanted me to or not. I couldn’t help it. It just happened.

Listening to this confession only makes it more real.

I’m in love with him.

I’ve fallen hard for this beautifully broken man.