Beneath Her Skin Read online

  For Damon, Brooke was his only connection to a new life and he didn’t plan on messing up his chances to make things right.

  ****

  Brooke felt renewed after her shower. Even though the hot water eased away hours of heartache, worry, and the Hummer accident, she still felt off.

  After blowing drying her hair, she dressed in clothes Mrs. Prestridge provided. Some white silk pajama pants and matching robe. Sliding her feet into soft slippers, she made her way to Damon’s office where dinner would be served. She was happy for the comfortable clothes after the stress of the day.

  She found Damon, standing beside the window. Her breath caught. His effect on her made a quiver run across her shoulders. He wore black, drawstring pants, riding low-slung on his hips with a gray pullover. The sleeves were pushed up his forearms, revealing his muscular arms. She stared. Enthralled. She ached to stride up to him and bury herself against his body. Yet she hesitated. The turn of his profile revealed his pensiveness as if the weight of the world pulled him down.

  She knew he carried much on his shoulders without sharing everything with her. She wished she could break through the invisible barrier and work through the disasters surrounding them together.

  In this moment, she loved him more—loved his strength and his care. She’d give anything to know what he was thinking and show him she wasn’t falling apart, though her life was the poster child for trouble—complete with death threats and car accidents.

  With these odds, she was certain he wouldn’t open up anytime soon.

  Damon turned his head and a soft smile curved his lips, yet faded. His eyes smoldered. He stared with such intensity that her stomach flipped and her knees felt weak.

  “I hope you’re weren’t waiting long?” she asked, her voice cracked, showing her uncertainty.

  He turned to face her, and then he was on the move. His soundless steps toward her were predatory and sleek. She couldn’t look away. Trapped in the shimmer of his eyes, she leaned against the doorframe for support. He owned the ability to incapacitate her—to bring her to a shaking mess at a glance.

  His hand smoothed over her cheek. “There’s no rush,” he whispered.

  Brooke had a feeling he didn’t mean his wait for her to arrive. His touch left a trail of ache, and his words held an underlying insinuation. Like a magnet, she wanted whatever he offered. Heat swarmed her cheeks. A lightheadedness poured through her, so thankful for the support of the doorway. So lost in his gaze and closeness, she failed to hear his last words.

  She frowned. “What?”

  A grin split his lips, offering his hand to her. “Are you hungry?”

  That seemed like a bad choice of words, considering the heavy amount of desire hanging thick between them. Inclining her head, she accepted his hand and allowed him to lead her over to the table. Mrs. Prestridge out did herself. Roast beef, potatoes, carrots, and peas. Fresh dinner rolls and candle light.

  Damon held her chair, and as she sat, his hand whispered across her neck. His voice caressed over her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

  “I hope this makes up for last night.”

  He moved away, capturing her gaze as he sat across from her.

  A smile hovered over her lips. “I’m sure it will,” she said, grabbing her napkin and placing it on her lap. “Did anyone ever tell you that you are solid muscle? I wasn’t sure if I could get you upstairs.”

  His face tightened. “You should have left me,” he said coolly.

  Brooke raised an eyebrow. “And leave you swimming in a pool of glass,” she said, shaking her head. “I couldn’t.”

  Damon grabbed the wine, pouring. “Then, you should have called Shem.”

  “Is this dinner? Or a critique?” she asked with a measure of sarcasm tipping her words. “The usual response for helping someone is thank you.” Anger fired in her belly. “For a man that enjoys control, you consumed enough alcohol to float the Titanic.”

  Surprise lit his eyes, then he chuckled. “Well said, Ms. Stone.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping low, “How do you know I enjoy control?”

  She angled closer, her voice matching his, “Because you own one of the largest engineering companies in the world. Someone that successful isn’t knee-bending for others.”

  She sat back with a satisfied smile on her face, grabbing her wine glass. Swirling the red wine, she took a sip.

  Brooke looked away, her eyes tipping over the décor. His ‘office’ had the appearance of a living room with a comfortable sofa area near a simmering fire. His desk sat in just the right place, strategically placed to catch the light or stars, depending on the time of day. Warm, modern colors infused the space, accented with crimson and rich browns.

  He eased back in his chair, smiling. “You know me well, I think.”

  “Not well enough.” She shrugged. “Or, not as well as I’d like to.”

  Damon visibly went stiff, his expression closing. “What would you like to know?”

  Though his words were offered, she sensed he didn’t want to delve too deep. “Let’s eat, shall we?” His eyes flashed with remorse.

  Damon picked up her hand, kissing her knuckles. “Mrs. Prestridge was happy we arrived. She loves to cook and I haven’t been home much,” he said, letting go of her hand to start on his meal.

  Brooke’s expression dulled. “Where have you stayed?”

  Without looking up, his shoulder lifted. “At the office.”

  “Damon.” She wanted to understand why he would be there instead of here.

  His forehead puckered, and then he met her gaze. “I wanted to be close to you.” He blew out his cheeks. “In case you needed me. I wasn’t going to leave anything up to chance.”

  A softness melted her insides. “Thank you for staying close.”

  They ate in companionable silence, enjoying the moment. Afterwards, he led her over to the sofa, drawing her down beside him. He hooked an arm around her shoulders, and she linked her hand with his. Pressed against his chest, his body heat soaked into her. She loved the feeling, how she fit like a lost puzzle piece. There was a sweetness between them, a comfort level they had reached.

  Laying her head against his shoulder, Brooke stared into the fire, mesmerized by the flicker. A thought occurred to her. She hated to bring this up now, but if they were moving toward more together, she had to know.

  With a deep breath, she asked, “Why are there no pictures of your wife?”

  Damon tensed against her.

  “I’m sorry,” she rushed to say. “I only asked because I feel like there is this divide between us. Some impossible hurdle we have to overcome before you truly open up to me.”

  He exhaled a hard breath, then kissed her temple. “It’s not that I don’t want to share everything, but…” he trailed off, his lips caressing down her cheek.

  “But?” His lips made her dizzy, a stinging desire that caused her to tremble.

  “I’m worried I’ll screw up and damage your beginning trust in me.”

  She tilted her head, giving him the once-over. “Never.” She squeezed their linked hands. “We’ve both lost someone important in our lives. I’ll understand.”

  A muscle flexed along his jaw. “Her name was Olivia,” he began. “We met in college and we began as friends. We matched each other’s ambitions. She was determined to be successful and so was I. She wanted to take the business world by storm and so did I.” He paused, exhaling another breath. “She fit into my world and supported me in all my dreams. We she died… I fell apart.”

  “Damon,” Brooke rasped.

  “I had no idea there was a door to a very dark place that would open up and consume me.” He sighed. “I could feel her everywhere. Her scent still lingered in the air. Her clothes hung in the closet as if she would walk through the door any minute. But… she never did.” He squeezed her hand on his, and then stood. He strode to the fireplace, staring intently.

  Brooke felt bereft and cold without him close.

/>   “I never knew true sorrow until my wife died. I didn’t know how to live anymore.”

  She went to him, standing close. Tears lingered on his lashes and her heart squeezed with pain. His anguish made her own tears gather. From experience, she knew there wasn’t any words that could chase the pain away.

  He closed his eyes. “Self-destruction was my vise. No matter how much I drank, I wasn’t numb enough, aching to be laying in the grave next to her. So I removed everything that reminded me of her. I peeled apart my heart, burying Olivia along with my darkness. I stripped away her existence to survive.”

  She sucked in a tight breath, releasing it slowly. “Let me in, Damon.”

  His gaze met hers, glassy and emotion-filled. “That’s just it, baby. You already are.”

  Swaying on her feet, his hand encircled her waist, pulling her close.

  “You’re closer to me than anyone. You breathed life inside me.”

  His words caused an avalanche of heat to bubble from her stomach. He leaned closer and she met his lips without hesitation. Surrender tilted her with shivering intimacy, begging her to release her inhibitions.

  Damon’s hands skimmed over her back, pulling her closer, and she absorbed his body heat. A distant liberation shredded her shyness. She did not think about anything but him. His taste. His everything.

  She hardly noticed as he drew her up in his arms and carried her down the hallway. Their clothing hit the floor without a second glance. They flowed together, sinking on the bed with soft sighs, both of them lying on their sides facing each other. She stared up into the green depths of his eyes, enthralled. His manly, fresh scent warmed her blood to a simmering degree and she shivered. She ached for his touch and for him to master her body in ways she never experienced. Her heart hammered so hard her chest hurt.

  His hand skimmed up her thigh and the dip of her waist, and tingles spread over her skin. He continued up her arm to cup her face. Damon’s lips hovered a breath apart from hers, holding her gaze.

  “You’re so beautiful, Brooke.” He thumbed the tender curve of her cheekbone. “I need you so much.”

  Her eyes closed, savoring his words. She felt his desire, felt his need. “Touch me,” she whispered, aching in secret places she never knew existed.

  “Look at me, baby. Watch me.”

  His hands wrapped around her neck, thumbing her pulse. The heat of his skin burned as he teased down her collarbone and over her breasts. Stinging pleasure wound against her skin, eliciting a moan. She wanted to bottle his sweet heat. Brand him in her heart. A hard tremor rattled through her as he flicked her nipple and a savory fire zinged through her blood, and settled at the core of her body. Her hips involuntarily tilted closer, her thighs shifting with expectation. She gasped from the intensity. But he didn’t stop there. His mouth joined his exploration, and he laved each nipple with his tongue. Her hands sank into his dark hair, tugging at the silky strands, tugging his mouth closer.

  She did not want this to ever end. “Damon.” Her tongue felt heavy.

  His eyes darted upwards, searing and direct. “I need you.”

  She couldn’t speak, yet a whimper slid past her lips and a shiver stormed down her back. She jerked him closer, her tongue sliding against his. He tasted all-male and hotness. Heady divinity coursed through their meshed lips.

  It was perfect.

  Damon’s tongue rolled against the underside of her teeth and she groaned. He pulled back just a breath and said, “Like that?”

  Another moan was her only answer as she threaded her hands through the rich texture of his hair, tugging him back to her lips. As their tongues swirled together, she took a deep inhale full of his scent. She wanted him. She wanted the explosion just waiting under the surface of passion.

  Their bodies pressed closer, warm and fiery. Hands ran over each other in a sensual maze as a well of hunger erupted. She drowned in pleasure, love the feel of Damon’s hard body, his wonderful scent, and his luscious mouth.

  “So beautiful,” he breathed, stroking her skin.

  Damon’s mouth moved down, his warm tongue jolting every nerve in her body. At the same time, his wandering hand parted her flesh. She sucked in a deep breath, too hyperaware of the twin assault. It was too quick, too fast. Everything in her tried to hold onto the succulent feelings shooting through her, but she could not.

  She arched against him. “Damon… please,” she begged, fisting the sheets, needing an anchor. She teetered on the edge as he worked her higher with his expert fingers.

  “It’s never enough, Brooke,” Damon whispered. “And I’m far from finished.” He parted her legs and settled between them.

  He appeared too surreal for words. He was handsome magnificence. From his dark hair to his narrowed eyes full of desire, his muscles strained. Her hands caressed up his arms, encircling his neck, and sank into the rich texture of his hair.

  She tilted her head up, brushing her lips across the strength of his jaw. She savored the salty perfection of his skin. Hunger possessed her and she held him tight. The wait was nearly heart stopping. “Please, Damon.”

  A shudder ran over his body. The cords of his neck tensed, and his jaw clenched. “God, Brooke.” He eased slowly into her.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, gasping.

  “Always be mine,” he said softly against her neck.

  “Damon….” He flexed deeper, and she met him for every sweet slide.

  “Promise me,” he grated, almost desperate. “Promise to be mine. Never leave. Never.”

  His body against hers slashed her sanity. “I promise,” she breathed.

  She sought his lips, dashing away any more attempts for promises. He was molten lava and she was powerless. Every inhale stroked his scent through her, his every groan, a long awaited ballad.

  Furious heat swirled through their meshed lips, and she gave over everything inside her. Her heart pounded. Her mind absorbed him. She felt him deep. She fisted his hair, her mouth dancing across his, while he sank further and further into her. She held on tighter, the tension coiling deep in her body with an all-consuming tenderness. Heat misted her skin, blending with his. They pressed closer and everything came apart at once.

  As she gripped him tighter, she groaned a throaty cry and Damon called out her name. Release hit them, sultry and raw.

  Chapter 12

  Brooke woke up alone. Her hand traveled over Damon’s spot, and the bed was cool.

  Frowning, she sat up, holding the sheet against her body. A shadow moved against the far wall and the glint of metal flashed in the moonlight. Her heart skipped a beat. A scream rose up in her throat until she recognized Damon. He was fully dressed, holding a gun.

  Her heart knocked hard in her chest.

  “Don’t be nervous, baby.” He sank on the bed next to her. “The silent alarm was tripped and Donavan is on the way. Someone is here,” he said in a hushed tone.

  He laid some clothes on the bed next to her, and his hand ghosted over her cheek with a soft caress. “Get dressed. I need to move you to a safe place.” He stood, traveling to the bedroom door, peeking out.

  Grabbing the clothes, Brooke shoved the sheet aside and worked quickly. Dressed in jeans and one of Damon’s pullovers, she padded over to him. A chill radiated up from the hardwood under her bare feet. Fear beat a hard path through her guts, shaking her body. Her knees knocked together until she thought she might collapse. She was so scared, her teeth rattled. Damon slipped a hand around her waist, but he didn’t glance her way. His eyes were still trained on the hallway.

  “I’m scared,” she whispered.

  He squeezed her close, turning to peer at her. There was determination in his gaze. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.” He exhaled a soft breath. “Follow me.”

  Damon slowly pulled the door open, his hand capturing hers. With easy steps, they traveled down the dark passage, keeping against the wall. He kept his gun pointed ahead. When they made it to his office, he paused. Moving inside, he p
ulled her quickly behind his desk. He uncovered a keypad on the wall and punched in a code. The bookcase opened. A light bathed them in a soft glow.

  Brooke gasped.

  Stowing his gun at his waist, his gaze held hers, and his eyes were full of intensity. “This is a panic room, designed to keep everyone out. No one can get in here. Under no circumstances will you open it for anyone, except me or Donavan.”

  “Let me come with you,” she rasped.

  He shook his head. “I can’t. This is the safest place in the house. I need to know you’re safe, baby.” He leaned forward, placing his forehead against hers. “This isn’t the way I wanted to wake up beside you.” His voice was full of regret and disappointment. “If anything happens to me, I need you to know how much I cared. How I worried. How I tried my damnedest to give you freedom.”

  His words sparked another level of fear in her, especially referring to himself in the past tense. Terror shimmied under the surface.

  “Don’t say this now, please,” she said. “You’ll come back. Please, Damon.”

  Pulling away, he didn’t say more. He pointed to a large red button. “This opens and closes the door from the inside.” He directed his hand to a monitor. “This will show you who is outside the door. Go.”

  With heavy steps, she went into the panic room, yet a surge of anxiety hit her. “Damon, what will I—”

  His lips moved over hers in a quick kiss, cutting off her words. “I love you.” He reached inside and hit the button, closing the door.

  ‘I love you, too’ was on her lips, but she didn’t say them. She couldn’t. She didn’t plan on this being the last time she ever saw him. Her heart thudded hard against her ribs as tears gathered in her eyes. She watched him on the monitor, disappearing from her sight. Her eyes were drawn to several monitors, each one providing another view of the house. Each hallway, downstairs, and outside.

  As Damon eased downstairs, she saw Donavan arrive with his team. The men poured out of their Hummer with large guns, moving fast. They met Damon in the foyer, and a small relief drenched her.