46. Daisy
Chapter 46
Daisy
Penn doesn't show up for his afternoon physical therapy appointment.
"This is unlike him," Isla says. "He's always five minutes early, and he's never a no-call no-show."
I glance out the window to the driving rain, then back to the cuticle I've been picking. A dot of blood blooms beside my nail bed. "You can go home, Isla. Drive carefully," I say, before retreating back to my office. Grabbing my phone from my purse, I check it. It's only been one minute since the last time I checked, and not shockingly, there is no communication from Penn.
What if something happened? Fear knots my heart, panic sweeping through me. I place my tenth call to him, and when it goes unanswered, I've made my decision. I'm going to find him.
"Penn," I yell, banging on his door. This is the third time I've knocked. I know he's here. His truck is in the driveway.
My hand is poised to knock when the door swings open. Penn, hair wet, has a towel wrapped around his waist. "Daisy," he reaches for me, pulling me inside. "How long have you been out there?" His eyes rake over my body. "You are soaking wet."
My clothing sticks to me, and I'm betting my ponytail closely resembles a rat tail at this point, but none of that matters, for two reasons. One, Penn is ok. Two, Penn is wearing a towel. Only a towel.
I drag my eyes up from the view of his hips, the bump bump bump of his ab muscles. There were six. I counted.
"I was worried about you. You didn't show up for your PT appointment."
His face clouds. "I know, and I'm sorry. I just got out of the shower, and before that," he hesitates, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "I was struggling a little bit. But I should have at least texted you and let you know. I'm sorry for worrying you."
I take a step toward him to hug him hello, but my sneakers squeak on the floor. "I'll just get out of your hair," I say, pointing back to my car. "I'm not trying to make a mess of your floor."
"No," he rushes to say. "Stay. Let me grab you shorts and a T-shirt." He looks down. "And maybe some for myself."
I manage a relieved chuckle. "Sounds good." I watch him walk up the stairs, the way the thin towel drapes over his ass. I desperately want to reach out, pluck the fold in the front that's keeping it tied, and watch the towel fall to the floor. I already know what he looks like, how he's thick and veined.
The worry that inundated me on my way over here has melted, turning into something else that has my blood rushing in all directions. Desire.
Penn returns, wearing soft, gray shorts, and a plain black T-shirt. He hands me a towel. "I laid some clothes out on the bed for you."
I toe off my shoes, doing my best to dry a little of my legs and my arms and my hair before going up the stairs. I head for the main bedroom, where I find shorts similar to the ones Penn is wearing, plus a button-up collared shirt.
"I'm sorry it's not a T-shirt," Penn yells up the stairs. "I need to do laundry. That's all I had, and I figured it would look better on you than on me."
That makes me smile. It also gives me an idea.
I change quickly, skipping over the shorts and buttoning the shirt halfway up. I use the small comb in my purse the best I can on my hair. Gently I tousle it, and lightly pinch my cheeks to give them a little color.
"Where is Slim Jim?" I yell down from the top of the landing.
From somewhere out of sight, Penn says, "I put him in his kennel when I saw you were out front. Rain tends to get him excited, and I didn't want him to jump on you or knock you down."
Following the sound of Penn's voice, I find him in the kitchen. Rain pelts the window, the sky outside deep gray. Penn's back is to me as he says, "I bought champagne after the last time you were over, just in case you came back. Are you interested in a glass? Or are you trying to make me do physical therapy here? You did say you were going to torture me."
"I'd love a glass, but maybe later." He spins around at the sound of my voice this close to him, eyes widening as he takes me in. "I don't know if this is the form of torture you were thinking of," I say, toying with the button between my breasts, "but it's most definitely what I had on the menu for today."
"Daisy." Penn says my name like it's agony.
"Penn," I respond, pulling the button through the eye.
A flash of lightning streaks through the window, closely followed by a clap of thunder.
"Keep going," he instructs, eyes locked on my fingers.
I do as he says, and when the buttons are undone, I grip each side of the shirt, slowly pulling it away until I'm holding it out to the side.
The rule has been no touching, so I expected relentless teasing, ending in something similar to last time.
But that's not what happens. Penn charges across the kitchen, wrapping an arm around my lower back, cupping the back of my head. He hauls me in, flush with him.
His eyes search my face. "Please tell me every inch of you is on the menu."
His words go straight to my center, making it ache. "What happened to your rule? Your self-control?"
His hand leaves the back of my head, finding my cheek. "I changed my mind. I don't want to live another day without knowing how good you taste. How perfect you feel."
"Me neither," I whisper.
"I'm going to kiss you, Sunshine." His fingers flex in their grip on my waist.
My hands travel into his hair, pulling him a half inch from my waiting lips. "I've waited so long for this, Sailor."
I'm not sure if his lips dip, or if mine lift, but they find each other, and damn . In an instant, I'm lost. Lost to him. Lost to this kiss, lost to this moment. His thumb runs over my cheek sweetly before his hand moves to grab my hair, tilting my head back, angling me so he can come down over me. His tongue dances over mine, tasting me, and I respond.
He groans into my mouth and it releases something feral inside me. The front of me is naked, so I press against him, wiggling my hips, rubbing.
"Yes," he growls into my mouth. His hands leave me, only to slide up to my shoulders and find the opening of the shirt. In one swift motion, the shirt is over my shoulders and hitting the floor with a soft thud.
My heartbeat skitters. He takes a half-step back, eyes leisurely perusing my body. He looks hungry, and wolfish, and I love it.
"I thought of you so many times," he murmurs. "All these years, I pictured the woman you'd become." My skin heats as his eyes rake over me. "Nothing I came up with compared to reality. I couldn't have dreamed up perfection."
"I'm not perfect." His gaze, on my legs now, climbs upward.
"For me," he clarifies. "Perfect for me."
Oh.
I want him. Desperately. I have to have him. Now. He must be thinking the same thing, because he cups one of my breasts, and instead of being slow or gentle, he pushes me back against the wall and sucks one nipple into his mouth. My back arches, wanting more, more, more, wanting everything.
Reaching for his shirt, I slide my hands under the hem, finding the magnificence that was on display when he answered the door in a towel.
Hard muscle. Rigid bumps. Warm skin.
Not enough. I want more. All of him.
My fingers find the waist of his soft shorts, and in one deft motion, I push them down. They fall to the ground, pooling at his feet, and he kicks them away. He releases his hold on my nipple to reach behind himself, pulling off his shirt in one movement.
He groans when I take him in my hand, pumping, dew leaking over my fingers. Dropping his forehead to mine, his hands press to the wall on either side of my head, caging me in.
"You're going to have to stop that soon," he grits out. "But fuck, I love it."
"I can tell," I say on a grin, tilting up my chin, capturing his lower lip with my teeth. Biting down gently as I work him, gathering his moisture and using it.
Penn's firm grip comes over mine, forcing me to still. I release him, and let out a surprised oof as he reaches under my backside, lifting me onto his midsection.
"Bed," he grunts in explanation, heading for the stairs.
"Ok," I respond, too lost in my sensitive core pressed against his many, many abs. I shift. Wiggle. Squirm, until I find a rhythm. "Ohhh," I moan into his neck.
"That's it, Sunshine. Use me."
I love it. I love this. I love this man.
Fuck. Oh no.
Penn climbs the stairs quickly, arms holding me securely while I work myself. In seconds we're at the bed, the shorts I never donned lying on the other side. I push until I'm lying in the middle, and Penn comes up over me.
My legs drift open, expecting him to push his way inside me, but he shakes his head. "If you don't come on my tongue, my life won't be complete."
I laugh, but I feel shy, so I make a joke. "So dramatic."
He doesn't respond, sliding down my body, hooking my knees over his shoulders. He breathes deeply once he's there, pressing a long, full kiss to me. Then he says, "Hang on tight, Sunshine."
He ravages me.
Devours.
My limbs turn to rubber as he uses his tongue relentlessly, pairing soft and languid with frenzied circles.
"I think I might be dying," I choke out, and I feel his smile, his muted laughter. Then he goes in for the death blow. Suctioning to me, pulling me into his mouth, his tongue lapping until I grab the pillow and press it to my face.
I shatter .
Disintegrate.
My hips buck and he holds me in place, my toes gripping the sheet. His face stays between my thighs.
I throw off the pillow, looking down at his blond hair. "You can come up here now," I say, embarrassed at my absolutely over-the-top orgasm.
"You're still coming," he answers. He's right. I feel myself convulsing.
"Need to feel it," he says, and I startle as his tongue slides into me.
Is this the hottest thing I've ever done? It's ranking right up there with what happened on the hood of his truck. But I like this with him, handing myself over to what I feel.
I reach for his hair, drag my nails over his scalp. "Can you feel it?"
He nods, just the tiniest bit.
I squeeze my muscles. "Do you feel that?"
A rush of air from his laugh streams over me. He pulls out of my body, dragging his nose up through my center, placing a kiss at the top of me, drawing an involuntary buck of my hips.
"I'll be right back," he says, standing up from the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. His ass is a sight, solid and muscled like the rest of him.
"You don't have any other tattoos," I say when he returns, climbing back onto the bed and splitting my legs so he can fit between them.
My bent knees bracket him as he opens a condom, sliding it over his length. Rising up on his knees, he winds his hands around my thighs and tugs me closer to him. "I only mark myself with things that own my heart. The SEALs." He directs himself to me, pressing in. He stops there, looks down at me. I see it in his gaze, this warmth. A softness. "And a woman named Daisy."
Oh, my heart.
He notches another inch, going slow. Then one more. Torturing us both. I pop up on my elbows, extending my touch to his ribs. To his scars. Gently I trace them. Wanting him to know it's all ok. He looks down at my touch, then back to me. He never stops his rhythm, but I see what it does to him. To his heart.
When he's all the way inside, he comes down over me. My legs wrap around his lower back. He moves in unhurried, luxurious thrusts.
He sighs deeply, a sound of relief and contentment. Eyes locked on mine, he says, "There's no part of me that doesn't love you, Daisy St. James."
My hands roam his back, finding his neck, fingers weaving into his hair. I press my lips to his, letting them hover against his, and say the truest words I've spoken in a very long time. "I love you, Penn. I always have."
The very last thing I want to do right now is cry. So I take the heat burning the backs of my eyes, the despair tearing at my heart, and place it inside a box deep inside, to be dealt with another day.
I've never seen life as being cruel, the way others do. But what other justification is there for finding true love one week before I'm supposed to marry another man?
Penn keeps a steady, leisurely rhythm. Is he drawing it out, savoring the connection between our bodies? I am.
I kiss him everywhere I can reach. Touch every inch of skin I can, my fingertips committing him to memory.
Pleasure builds, gathering steam, and my breathing becomes labored. "I...I..."
"Me too, Sunshine," he whispers.
"Cover my mouth," I tell him. I want to be loud. I want all control gone, handed over to Penn. I have so little to give him, but there's this, though it's not nearly enough.
Penn increases his pace, and when my whimpers grow louder, he covers my mouth with his left hand. My hand grips the tattoos. Eyes on mine, fingers over my lips, the center of our bodies slice the air, jerking together in the rawest way. So intimate. Beautiful, even.
Eyes screwed shut, he opens his mouth, his roar soundless. But I feel him. Heaving, twitching, spilling.
Penn drapes over me, his weight welcome. Lightly I scratch my nails over his back.
"Let's run away together," I say to the ceiling.
"If only that would solve all our problems," he answers, cheek pressed against my breast.
We lie like that for a while, catching our breath. Finally, he pulls out of me, pressing a kiss to the inside of my knee as he backs up on the bed.
"I'll be right back," he says, returning a minute later. He has disposed of the condom, and brought a warm washcloth. "I didn't make a mess of you, but I thought you might appreciate it."
"It sounds amazing, actually." I reach a hand out for the cloth, but he shakes his head, leaning one knee on the bed. "May I?"
"Um, sure." Am I really going to feel shy about this, given where his face was pressed only a handful of minutes ago?
Penn leans forward, brushing a kiss over my forehead, and his hand goes between my legs. The warmth of the washcloth is welcome, a slight ache already beginning. My muscles down there aren't accustomed to being used this way.
It's probably only a few seconds he spends cleaning me, but it takes my heart that is already his, and places a sealant over it. Penn is a good man. Someone who deserves true love.
Can I give that to him? Is there a way out of the terrible mess I've created for myself?
Penn walks to the entrance to the bathroom, tossing the wet cloth across the room, where it lands with a thwap in the bathtub.
He returns, pulling back the covers, asking with his eyes for me to slide in beside him. I shimmy in, pressing my body into him. And then he says the very last thing I expected.
"Duke's dad came to see me."