Penny pulled off the sweater she was wearing and wrestled her bra off. She’d made the mistake of putting her own insecurities over his words instead of really looking at the situation and evaluating how to translate him.
He was a man who was always in control, but he’d allowed her to manipulate him. Every step along the way, he’d backed down. Now that she looked at it with a wiser eye, she could see that he’d tried to rein her in, but when she bucked against the restrictions, he’d allowed her to have her way. Yes, he’d spanked her, but he hadn’t done what she would expect him to do. He hadn’t locked her away or shut her out. He’d made love to her. He might call it sex or discipline but it was how he expressed his caring. He treated her like she was precious, like she was everything he needed to breathe, to live.
She’d ignored what he did in preference to what he said. She’d heard the words and not questioned the meaning of them. It was a fatal flaw for a translator.
Every step of the way, every dumb word that had come from his mouth led her to one thing.
Damon Knight loved her, and he had no idea how to say it.
He knew one language though. He understood the language of submission. It was a gift she could give him.
She shimmied out of her slacks, tossing them to the side, and took a long breath.
Had she ruined it? Had she driven him away?
They were in the middle of a crisis but all she could think about was getting Damon back. She’d vowed that she would walk away if she couldn’t win him by the time they got back to England. She’d promised that she would let him go, that she would salvage her pride.
She sank to her knees, allowing them to spread wide.
Fuck her pride. She wanted her man, and he was worth fighting for. No one had ever fought for Damon Knight. His parents had died and his family had fallen away. He’d found himself in situations beyond his control. His country wanted him as long as he was capable of serving it. But only one person had loved Damon enough to give up everything for him. She was his woman. She wouldn’t ever give up on him. She would fight for him with every breath she had left in her body.
The ship moved beneath her, jostling softly under her skin. She barely noticed it now, but when she was still and quiet, she could feel the way the boat plowed through the waves. Motion. She’d been in motion since the moment she met Damon, moving to this moment when she finally made her choice.
Time passed, minutes going by, but she found a certain peace in waiting for him, in staying in position for her Master.
Finally, she heard the cabin door open.
“Are you sure about this?” Her heart skipped a beat as she heard Simon’s voice trailing in. She’d expected Damon to return alone. “I don’t know that I like the idea of leaving the bugger alone.”
Her first instinct was to leap for her clothes, but she stayed in position. Her submission wasn’t determined by who walked into the cabin she shared with her Master.
“I think he’ll be fine,” Damon said. “We need for him to trust us and quite frankly, we need to be able to trust him. If what he says is true, and I think it is, we’re all in this together and we have some hard decisions to make about where this information goes.”
“All right then. I’ll get back to the dance floor. I’m apparently teaching a bunch of subs how to tango tonight.” Simon chuckled all of a sudden. “Well, I didn’t expect to see that. Hello, Pen. You’re looking quite lovely this evening.”
Damon huffed, a surprised sound. “Penelope? Weston, get the bloody hell out of here. Move. Now.”
She heard the shuffling of feet and then the door closing with a hard click as Damon locked it. She kept her head down because it was up to her Master to either accept or reject her gift.
Tears pricked her eyes because she’d been so foolish. He wouldn’t share her. Never.
His loafers came into view. They were normally perfectly polished but now they sported scuff marks and a long scratch on the top of the right one from where he’d stumbled trying to chase after Baz.
Accepting him meant accepting the fact that he would likely die in the field one day. It was a part of who Damon was. She wanted to beg him to quit, to retire and settle down with her, but she couldn’t. She had to accept Damon for everything he was—hero, protector, stubborn arse. She loved everything about him.
“You should get up now, Penelope. I’ll get your clothes.” His voice sounded strained, harsh even.
She tensed, her heart clenching. Had she ruined everything? “Damon, please.”
He stepped back, his hands out as though she was a dangerous creature and he needed to put space between them. “No. I’m not going to let you use me like this.”
“Use you?” She stayed still though she wanted more than anything to look up and plead with him.
“Yes. It’s what it would be. You think you can use me for sex for the rest of the mission? I’m not interested. Get your clothes and we’ll talk. I’m going to explain to you exactly how this is going to go from now on.”
Fear gripped her for a moment. “I’m sorry, Damon. I didn’t understand.”
“But you do now.” He reached for the Scotch he’d had delivered earlier and poured himself far more than he usually did. “You understand what it’s like.”
“No, I didn’t understand you.” And it was obvious he didn’t get what she was trying to tell him.
His foot tapped impatiently against the carpet. “Penelope, you will be quiet for a moment. I say that as your superior and not your Master. We both know that was only for show anyway. Put on your bloody clothes.”
She wasn’t sure where this was heading, but she wasn’t about to go backward. And he seemed to have real trouble concentrating on anything but her breasts. “I’m perfectly comfortable this way. And if you’re just my superior and not my Master, then I think I’ll make the decisions about what types of clothes I choose to wear.”
A bitter huff came from deep in his chest, and he took a long swallow of the Scotch. “Fine. You seem determined to punish me for something. Well, you’ll find I’m made of sterner stuff than that.”
Her heart softened. He looked so lost. “Damon, I can explain.”
His jaw straightened, a stubborn look coming over his face. “I don’t want to hear it. It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re starting over again. I pushed you far too fast and into a world you don’t have a real interest in. Fine. When we get back to England, we’ll play it your way. We’ll date. I’ll take you to a nice restaurant and treat you like a lady.”
She smiled at his words. It was ludicrous, but it was sweet to hear. “I don’t think that’s going to work.”
“It will. If you prefer vanilla sex, I can handle it. I’ll give you vanilla sex and we can work the rest of it out.”
He couldn’t even look at her while he said it. Poor Damon. He had no idea what had happened because she’d broken his cardinal rule. She hadn’t been honest with him. If she’d been brave, she would have called him out the minute he said the words and they would already be through this, but she’d been a hurt coward and she’d let Damon stew in his worry for far too long. Now he had it in his head to change his entire life for her.
But he claimed he didn’t love her.
They didn’t speak the same language. Men and women rarely did. She’d accepted that, but now she knew she’d forgotten something. Languages could be learned. They just had to be practiced.
“I love you, Damon.”
He turned, nearly knocking his glass over. “What?”
“I said I love you, Damon.” He would need to hear it many, many times before he got the meaning.
His eyes tightened, focusing on her. “I don’t understand.”
She rose to her feet and walked to him, peace filling her. This was what she should have done in the first place, but she was too used to hiding behind a wall. “I know you don’t, but I’m going to teach you.”