She stood, but he could see the trepidation on her face. He waited patiently as everyone resettled. Jake took her former place next to Simon. Chelsea settled in on one of the barstools, but there was no way to mistake where her eyes went. She was looking between Simon and Penelope as though trying to figure out exactly what was going on. If he needed an ally to keep those two apart, he likely had one in her. Jesse got another beer from the fridge and took the last seat, propping his booted feet up on the table in front of him.
Bloody American barbarians.
But he forgot about all of it as a sweet English rose settled herself on his lap. His cock sprang to attention the second he caught her scent. She bit her bottom lip and wriggled around, her soft ass moving and settling in and making him want to fuck so badly, he thought he might just carry her away and have it done with. Once he’d screwed her a couple of times, he’d be able to think clearly. He’d be able to think about something other than her.
It was only because she’d denied him. Surely that was it. He so rarely didn’t get a woman he wanted, and she was proving a bit elusive.
Stupid bastard. He didn’t just want her. He could attempt to lie to himself but deep down, he knew the truth. He liked her. He wanted her to like him back.
And his cock definitely wanted her to change her mind about the whole no-real-sex thing. His cock was coming up with a hundred different ways to defeat that line of thinking.
She finally settled down, though her back was ramrod straight and she couldn’t possibly be comfortable.
He shifted, forcing her to move, bringing her in closer contact so her head drifted to his shoulder and her legs didn’t dangle off his knees. He brought her fully across his lap, her only option for balance being relaxation and him.
“So let me explain what’s going on with Baz.” He began to speak as Penelope finally let her body go limp in his. He cuddled her close as he explained the situation and everything that needed to happen. About halfway through the conversation, he noticed her even breathing and the way her head was deadweight on his shoulder.
She’d fallen asleep, resting in his arms.
He still had a shot and he was going to take it.
Some field agent she was turning out to be. She’d fallen asleep on her partner’s lap and had to be awakened for supper. Damon had been smiling down at her as he kissed her nose and brought her out of a perfectly pleasant dream.
She’d been curled up on him, practically drooling on his shirt. She’d started out very awkward and feeling completely ridiculous, and somewhere along the way the deep sound of his voice and the strength of his arms around her had made her feel safe and warm and she’d just kind of completely fallen asleep.
She was fairly certain she’d blushed all the way through the supper he’d had catered in. He’d ordered her to sit by him, and he’d served her throughout the meal. He’d poured her wine and made sure she had everything she’d wanted. Ian had treated his wife in a similar fashion, though she’d been sitting in his lap the whole time. It had been so weird at first and then it had seemed oddly normal.
It made her wonder what it would feel like to sit in Damon’s lap and let him feed her.
Now she stood in front of the lift trying to process the words he was saying.
“We’re on the sixth floor. We can walk up the stairs if you like, but the lift lets out straight in front of my rooms.”
Yes and that was a problem. “Your rooms?”
A short sigh puffed from his mouth. “Penelope, you knew you would have to sleep with me. It’s best to get it out of the way.”
She took a step back. “I told you I don’t think it’s a good idea to have sex.”
“Good god, do you really think I’m going to jump on you? I’m not going to rape you, Penelope. We have to share a room on the boat. Are you planning on making me sleep on the floor?”
Because he would never, ever allow her to do so. The man didn’t like her walking next to the street when he was around. He wouldn’t allow her to sleep on the floor. If she was stubborn about the sleeping arrangements, it would cost him and not her, and she didn’t think that was a manipulation on his part. She was starting to figure out which parts of him belonged to Damon and which were the agent who refused to fail at a mission.
“No.” She was going to have to do it. She was going to have to lie in bed next to him and pretend she didn’t want to go any further with him.
Because she really did.
Despite what she’d said earlier, seeing him among his friends had shown her a different side to the man. Though he still held himself apart, it was so easy to see that he wanted to belong. Maybe no one else could tell since his expression almost never changed, but there was a way he held himself that let her know when he was feeling out of sorts, apart. She knew because she felt that way most of the time.
Or she could just be fooling herself again.
The lift doors opened, and he gestured her inside. Of course he would. He knew how to play the gentleman, but she wasn’t used to it. He entered behind her and the doors closed.
“What are your thoughts on the possible weapon?” He pressed the button for six.
She might have fallen asleep during the discussion, but at least she’d read the materials. She might not say anything that hadn’t already been said, but she did have some thoughts.
“I’m worried it’s sarin.” Sarin gas was a nerve agent. “This group might be attempting to mimic the 1995 Tokyo subway attacks that killed thirteen people. The cult that organized the attack used very basic means of diffusion. They wouldn’t need to smuggle in more than the gas. It might be difficult to get that on board the boat. They would need quite a bit of it. I know it’s lethal, but it dissipates quickly. And why would they need a certain individual? Why not just send the bloke through as a tourist and mail the gas? It could be done.”
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?”