Dungeon Royale (Masters and Mercenaries) Page 11

  The doors opened again. It did seem a bit elaborate when a simple plan was always best.

  Damon led her this time, a keycard in his hand. “I have a card for you, too. It’s with your things. My apartments are locked at all times. So is my office. I work in both places. I upped my security after I nearly got killed in my own bloody home.”

  The door swung open, but Penelope was caught by the moonlight shining down on the atrium. She stepped up to the railing, turning her head up and then looking down. Even from this height, she could see the flowers had opened. Gorgeous white blooms dotted the dungeon below.

  This was Damon’s fantasy. Darkness that brought about light.

  “Do you like it?” He was standing behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his body, but he didn’t reach out to touch her.

  “I love it.” She’d never seen anything like it. Decadent. Beautiful.

  He moved to stand beside her, leaning on the railing, his eyes on the dungeon below. “I was trying to protect you. I know I was harsh, but he killed a woman who worked for me. He killed her here. I couldn’t stand the thought that he might hurt you.”

  “I understand that.”

  “Do you?” He finally turned to her, his hand coming up to brush back her hair. “I don’t think you do. Until you’ve really known violence, you can’t conceive of it. I’m going to try to make sure this all runs smoothly so you don’t have to understand.”

  Despite her best intentions, she was back to feeling comfortable around him. It was easy. Somehow, they fit now in a way they hadn’t before, as though his near-death experience had fundamentally changed him. He wasn’t softer, not at all. He was more serious, more willing to look at her and really see her. “Why do you and Simon not get along?”

  “A couple of reasons,” he explained. “I ran the op that led to him leaving SIS. He fucked up and believed the wrong man.”

  “You fired him?”

  “No. Nigel reprimanded him and he quit. I know you’re friends with him and he’s a pleasant enough chap, but he’s led a rather charmed life. He always seemed to me like he was a rich boy playing at being an agent. Tag seems to have toughened him up. He got the jump on me last year.”

  She couldn’t imagine anyone getting the jump on Damon, but Simon did seem harder, more dangerous than she’d remembered him. And he’d spent much of the evening staring at the girl with the limp like he could eat her alive.

  Her mind flashed back to that moment in the washroom. Damon had tasted her. He’d put his fingers to his lips, the ones he’d brought her to orgasm with, and he’d tasted her.

  She was going to sleep beside Damon Knight. Was she really going to hold him off in bed?

  She was worried she had to or she would spend the rest of her life mourning him. He was reckless with his own life, dedicated to a career that didn’t offer a lot of longevity. Even if he decided to keep her as a partner, it wouldn’t be love.

  Penelope Cash wanted to be loved. Like Charlotte and Ian Taggart. She wanted to know why that ridiculously hard man softened when he looked at his wife. She wanted to know why Charlotte was so comfortable in her skin.

  Damon might be able to give her some of what she needed, but he would never love her the way she wanted.

  “Have I lost you?” Damon asked, the sweetest smile on his face.

  “Sorry. I’m tired.” The day had been exhausting, and she was looking at several weeks of being intimate with a man she shouldn’t give in to.

  “Of course. Come on, then. Your things are in my rooms.” He opened the door and allowed her in. “The bathroom is in the back. I’ll use the guest bathroom for now. I’m going to shower. I’ll be in there awhile.”

  She nodded and walked through the hall toward the room he’d gestured to. Damon’s inner sanctum was lush and beautiful, like the dungeon. She peeked through an open door and found what had to be his office. Dominated by a huge masculine-looking desk, the office was filled with books. A single light had been left on, and she could see him there working by himself.

  She knew she should leave, but she couldn’t help herself. She stepped into the office. There was exactly one picture frame in the entire room. It was sitting on the desk. Penelope moved around so she could get a glimpse of what Damon thought worthy to frame. The rest of the building contained artwork and prints, but this was smaller, more personal.

  Her heart clenched a little. It was an old photo. A man, a woman, and a child of maybe four years. The toddler was male and had the most exuberant smile on his face. His arms were up as though this was a kid who embraced everything around him. His parents both had a hand on him, keeping him safe and loved.

  God, this was Damon before his parents had died. He’d been adored and protected, and it all had been taken from him in a single day.

  What had that been like? Her father had been distant. Her mother had loved her, but never asked for more. And yet she’d always had a support network. Damon hadn’t. He’d been that kid in the photo and then he’d been lost.

  A lost boy.

  Was he still lost and searching for someone who could bring him home?

  It didn’t matter. It didn’t. The tears in her eyes didn’t mean anything. She forced herself out of the room. She made her way to the bedroom.

  Decadence predominated. Damon’s bedroom was large and his bed was huge and sultry. She shook her head, trying not to think about all the things he could do to her there.

  Her trunk was sitting beside the left-hand side of the bed. He’d left it open. A sense of the familiar washed over her as she knelt beside it. She looked through the trunk but couldn’t find her gowns. She had a dozen or so night shifts, and none of them seemed to be here.

  Bastard. No underwear. No gowns.

  She sighed. She wasn’t going to be defeated so easily. She’d need to buy more. She went to his dresser and opened a couple of drawers before she found his white undershirts. They would do. She pulled one free and strode to the loo.

  Naturally, his loo was larger than her bedroom at home. There was a separate bath and shower. That didn’t happen in London real estate, but she was sure it was normal for Damon Knight. She turned on the hot water, undressed, and stepped in.

  Pure pleasure flowed across her skin. Heat suffused her, and she wished she could make worse choices. Damon would be here with her if she wasn’t so fucking practical. She could be with him if she didn’t overthink absolutely everything.

  Penelope quickly washed off, ready to slide in between the sheets and sleep. Tomorrow she would have to figure out what to do, but tonight she would sleep.

  After turning off the shower, she dried off and slipped Damon’s shirt over her head, trying not to think about how he smelled. Clean and masculine, with just a hint of spice.

  The shirt enveloped her, hitting her just a tiny bit above her knees.

  She walked into the bedroom and stopped because she wasn’t alone.

  Damon was standing in front of the bed, his hands pulling down the comforter and sheet.

  He was completely and utterly and gorgeously naked, his backside on full display. No bum should look that good. It shouldn’t make her mouth water, her insides slide against each other in a long, slow dive to arousal.

  “You’re naked.” It might be the dumbest thing she’d ever said. It was obvious he was naked since he wasn’t wearing any clothing. His cock had been laying against his muscular thigh, but the minute he’d turned and looked at her, it had started to rise.

  “It’s how I sleep.” He seemed to ignore his dick, pulling the sheets down and fluffing the pillows. He drew them back and moved onto the bed, his body long and lean on the perfectly white sheets. He laid his head against the white pillow, making his hair look even darker than before. He didn’t bother to cover his body. All of it—from his perfect hair, to his ridiculously cut chest, to a six-pack to die for, to his muscular legs—were on display.

  She couldn’t stand there and drool. She moved to the opposite side of t
he bed. She noticed he’d taken the side closest to the door. To protect her.

  God, he was so hard to resist. He was an obnoxious mix of perfect man and selfish child. “You can’t go to bed like that.”

  His eyes narrowed, staring at her. “You keep telling me all the things I can’t do. I don’t like it. Do I need to remind you that I’m in charge? I’m the senior agent. I’m the Dom. You’re the sub. If you can’t remember that, we’re going to have a serious problem.”

  He was in charge. He was in charge of her. She couldn’t help it. It did something for her. The fact that he wanted to be responsible for her actions, her life, meant something. But it didn’t mean he loved her.

  One week of training. Sixteen days on the boat. She would hold his hand while they searched for the bad guy. She would have about a month with him and then they would go back to their normal lives. He would smile her way every now and then and she would do her work and go home to a nameless, faceless flat where she didn’t know anyone around her and no one cared about what she did or said.

  Penny slid into bed, drawing the sheet and blanket around her. She turned on her side, but it was the wrong side because she could plainly see Damon laid out like god’s gift to women. And he obviously wasn’t cold.

  She couldn’t help but stare at his male parts. His cock. His balls. They were just right there. His cock was as big as she’d imagined it. It was flush against his abdomen.

  “Sorry. I took a cold shower. I tried to get it to die down.” He might say all the right things, but he didn’t pull the sheet up. He lifted his hips and let his legs lay open. “But the minute I saw you, it just had its own ideas. I want you, Penelope. I can’t help wanting you. Go to sleep and we’ll deal with everything tomorrow. You want to stay pure. We’ll see how that goes.”

  She turned to the other side. She wouldn’t give in.

  No matter how much she wanted to.

  Chapter Seven

  Sunlight brushed her skin and warmth encased her. So warm. She couldn’t help but rub against the strong body she lay next to.

  Penny opened her eyes. Sometime in the night, she’d turned and cuddled close to him. Damon’s arm was around her, holding her to his chest, her arm around him. Her cheek rested against his heart. She could hear it. Damaged as it was, it still beat strong against her ear. She didn’t like to think about what had happened the day before. She’d watched him fall, watched his big body stop and then lose control. Damon shouldn’t ever lose control. He needed it so badly.

  She knew she should move, but she couldn’t help it. She gave herself a moment to let the heat of his body wash over hers. All the reasons to hold herself apart from him were still there, but it suddenly seemed silly to not enjoy the man. She’d denied herself so much. Yes, there would be heartache, but wouldn’t it be better to ache than to feel nothing?

  “Did you sleep all right?”

  Penny looked up, startled, but when she would have moved away from him, Damon’s arm tightened slightly. “I did.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed. “I did, too.”

  Silence stretched out between them, but it was strangely comfortable. She let herself relax again. “When did I end up here?”

  His chest moved as he breathed, and she found herself breathing in time to him. Her heart seemed to synch as well. “After you fell asleep. You tried to take all the blankets. I had to let you close to me just to stay warm.”

  “I’m not used to sleeping with someone.” She let her eyes drift up.

  Morning light softened him, making the gray of his eyes seem almost blue as they opened and he looked down at her. “The walking corpse never slept over?”

  She stifled a laugh. Damon had a way with words, especially when he was insulting someone. He and his friend Ian had insulted each other all night. She might never understand men. “That’s a horrible thing to call him.”

  Damon smiled a little. “Peter never slept over?”

  “He said he slept better alone. He tried once but I snored and he left.” That was a terrible thought. “Did I keep you up?”

  “With your little snuffles? No. He was an idiot, love.” He laid his hand over hers and took a long breath, seeming to settle back in. “I liked sleeping with you. I haven’t slept with anyone in a very long time. In fact, there hasn’t been anyone at all.”

  That was a bit hard for her to believe. “Anyone?”

  “I haven’t actually had sex since the shooting. I was worried the damn thing wouldn’t work, but I think it’s safe to say it’s waking up again.” His voice got serious. “I liked it. Last night, that is. I liked holding you. I liked how we kept each other warm. Kiss me, Penelope.”

  “Damon.” It was a bad idea.

  “You can’t even kiss me? We’re going to struggle on the boat if you won’t kiss me.”

  He was right about that. She pushed herself up and looked down at him. He was a deliciously gorgeous beast of a man, every inch of him muscled and lean. His hair had lost its former perfection and a lock of black silk lay across his forehead.

  What was she really afraid of? She was afraid of losing herself in him and then being utterly adrift when everything was over. She was afraid of not coming out on the other side of the affair with a whole heart, but she had agreed to this. She’d said yes, and that meant being braver than the old Penny. The old Penny never woke up warm and cradled against a man. The old Penny had accepted far less than was her due.

  The old Penny would have given this man a peck and then run away. She didn’t want to be the old Penny any longer.

  She reached out and touched him, her fingers on his face. Maybe she was looking at everything wrong. Maybe instead of holding back, she should take every moment and revel in it. He looked at her solemnly as she brushed her fingertips along his jawline, his whiskers tickling against her skin. She studied him, taking her time to memorize the way he looked. A sharp blade of a nose. Sensual lips.

  He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, simply allowed her to explore, though she could feel the tension in him. Was he truly afraid she wouldn’t kiss him? Could a man like him really want her?

  She couldn’t know if she never tried. This wasn’t a problem she could logic her way out of. She had to feel her way through it.

  She let her lips find his skin, first his cheek and then along his jaw. She placed a kiss on his nose and one between his eyes. She smoothed back his hair.

  “Penelope, I don’t want you to treat me like a boy you’re trying to soothe.”

  She wasn’t going to let him rush her. “Hush, Damon. I’m enjoying this.”

  His eyes flared slightly. “When we’re on a proper footing, I’ll spank you for that.”

  Yes, she thought he’d do a lot of things when they were on “a proper footing.” It was why she had to enjoy the time she had with him now. “Because I’m a brat?”

  She’d read the term, heard Ian complain about his wife being one. Of course, he’d said it all while petting her and holding her.

  Those delicious lips curled up in a sexy grin. “I think you could be a spectacular brat, love. If you wanted to.”

  She wanted to. All her life she’d been the perfect daughter, the one who got good grades and did her duty. Had she ever really grown out of the role and tried being a woman? She brushed her mouth across his forehead and then finally let her lips find his own. Warm, soft, but so firm. He let her have her way, allowing her to play along his skin.

  Emboldened, she let her hand drift down, caressing the strong column of his neck and making her way to his shoulders and chest. A light dusting of hair covered his torso, making a neat triangle toward his abs. She traced the flat discs of his nipples, watching them peak the minute she got close. She let her hand move lower to his lean stomach. He twitched under her fingertips. The blanket covered him from his hips down, but it tented, his cock stretching the material up.

  “Yes, that’s what you do to me.” His hands were fisting the sheet underneath him as though he had to
hold on or he would reach for her and take over. “Seven months without a whisper and now he wants to play.”

  He was giving her a gift, allowing her control when he needed it himself. He strained under her hands, his hips lifting when she got close.

  This was why she was afraid. Because she didn’t want to stop with kisses. She wouldn’t want to stop at the end of the mission. She might never want to stop exploring Damon Knight.

  “Give me more,” he demanded. “Kiss me. Use your tongue. Please, pet. I want it.”

  She knew she should stop, but she couldn’t turn down his plea. There was a desperate quality to his tone that made her feel sexy, desirable. Maybe he was manipulating her, but he couldn’t fake the erection. It was difficult to believe that she was the cause, but the evidence was staring her in the face.

  She lowered her head back to his and let her tongue run across his plump bottom lip, feeling her power when he shivered beneath her.

  More. She wanted more. Her body was starting to sing in the way it only ever had for him. Her pussy softened, starting to pulse and get wet. She couldn’t deny it. Damon was her weakness, her odd joy, the one man who could bring her out of herself and into the world. She didn’t even want to deny it or him.

  She let her tongue surge in, rubbing against his. Never before had she been so brazen, so bold, but then she hadn’t ever wanted anyone the way she did Damon.

  They kissed, his tongue playing along hers, making her heart beat in a rapid rhythm. Alive. Maybe it was a farce on his part, but it was real for her, and she couldn’t let it rush by without reveling in it. Without saying yes to it.

  “Let me take over,” Damon whispered, his deep voice pure seduction. “I can make it so good for you. We could be good together. So fucking good. Touch me. Touch my cock. Stroke me.”