Imperfect Penelope (Wild Crush) (14 page)

How long would it take him to get over what’s-her-face to even try?

“Don’t throw in the towel before the fight even starts,” Hope said. “You have to put in a few years before you’re allowed to give up.”

Five years Hope had been existing in a state of limbo with Dylan, and at last it looked like she was trying to move on. Penny for one would be glad to see her do it. Dylan was one of those dynamic people everyone wanted to be around, but inside he was a complete mess. He hadn’t given Hope the love or commitment she deserved, but Matt was a different proposition altogether.

Penny put her hand on her sister’s arm. “I know you’re still hurting, Hope, but Matt has always had a soft spot for you. He’d never want to hurt you more.”

“Believe me, nobody’s getting anywhere near my heart again,” Hope said, a determined gleam in her eyes. “If we do anything, it’s just sex.”

Penny’s lips twisted. “That’s what I said about Greg.”

Hope matched Penny’s wry expression. “I was right, wasn’t I? You two have been going at it like rabbits.”

“I can’t help it. He’s
incredible
in that department. You can’t even imagine.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” Hope said lasciviously as she pushed her weight off the sink.

Penny hit her on the mermaid tattoo. “Stop that.”

“Possessive,” Hope noted as they headed back out into the hall. “You are in love.”

I am. I totally am,
Penny thought as she returned to her seat. Greg watched her approach, his eyes taking in every movement of her body. Her blood heated. One look and she was putty in his hands. It was terrifying. But it was also undeniably thrilling.

She took her seat, put her hands on Greg’s cheeks and planted one on him. It was quick but effective, and by the time she pulled back she was rewarded by his sharp intake of breath. “You should go to the bathroom more often,” he rasped.

Penny giggled and made herself comfortable on Greg’s shoulder. The lights in the hall dimmed. Greg stroked Penny’s hair away from her forehead and kissed her there. She smiled, content yet idling in a low level of horny. Undoubtedly, there would be more making out done while the movie played. She could barely go five minutes in the man’s company without kissing him, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he was similarly afflicted.

“I never asked you what the movie is,” Greg whispered.

“Because you didn’t care,” Penny countered, grinning. “You wanted to spend the evening with me no matter what it was.”

His lips curved against her temple. “You have me pegged.”

“It’s something with Julia Roberts. Not the prostitute movie, one of the others.”

“That clears it up. Thanks.”

Penny’s hand was resting on Greg’s chest, and she felt the way his heart thumped when the opening credits rolled. There was Julia, wearing a wedding dress and riding a horse across the meadow, her red hair flying behind her. The title of the movie came up.

Runaway Bride.

Greg stiffened and she could swear his flesh grew cold beneath her fingers. She’d brought a man who’d been dumped by his fiancée to a movie about a woman who runs from her own weddings. Penny fervently regretted not taking any notice of what movie was going to play beyond the fact it was an old rom com she couldn’t recall the name of. She’d only wanted to spend time with Greg. It hadn’t mattered what they watched.

Now it felt like it kinda mattered.

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Penny whispered for the third time.

Greg used his hand to settle Penny’s head back on his shoulder. “It’s fine. Stop worrying.”

She fell silent and leaned into him, but Greg felt the tension in her shoulders. She was probably getting it from him. He’d been trying to relax for the last hour but it was damn hard, because the movie was excruciating.

How many times could one woman flee from her own wedding before her supposed friends told her she should stop getting engaged already? The plot was ridiculous, and never had he found Julia Roberts less attractive. She changed herself into what each of her fiancés wanted, which was a stupid thing to do, but even more idiotic was that the men didn’t even see it. They didn’t even know the woman they were marrying.

Greg hadn’t touched the popcorn in ages because he felt sick to his stomach. The truth was, he’d been that moronic. He’d had no idea Rochelle was even having second thoughts and had been completely blindsided at the church. Had she changed herself for him without him being aware of it, only to realize at the eleventh hour that he didn’t know her at all? He was the one who’d rushed the engagement—three months was a short time when you were planning who to spend the rest of your life with. Had he steamrolled Rochelle into something she wasn’t ready for? Or had she never loved him at all?

He should have asked her, demanded answers, instead of fleeing to the first holiday house he found on the internet and spending a month in a haze of scotch. At the time it was all he could handle, and when he’d sobered up, he didn’t care what Rochelle’s reasons were anymore. He didn’t want anything to do with her, so he’d remained in Leyton’s Headland, rented office space because he could no longer sit idle. Work replaced the alcohol, until he’d worked himself into a state where his health was compromised.

Which had brought him to Penny.

After being jilted he’d sworn off romantic relationships, figuring that was the only way to ensure he’d never lose his heart. It hadn’t worked. He’d lost his heart the second he’d kissed Penny, if not before. He was in love despite his efforts to the contrary, and he still didn’t know what had made his last relationship implode.

Logic said if he didn’t know what went wrong last time, there was no way he could prevent history repeating.
Maybe when you marry Penny, you’ll elope.
The thought didn’t bring him up short, as he might have expected. He wasn’t shocked to realize he wanted to marry her someday. He was crazy about her and he wanted to make her his.

Make her his.
It was such a controlling, possessive term. Was that what had gone wrong with Rochelle? If he’d been a jerk who tried to control her and rush her into marriage, why didn’t she say something sooner?

And if a three-month courtship and a nine-month engagement was rushing, what did you call wanting to marry the woman you’d been involved with for less than two weeks?

Greg had never been more relieved to see the end credits of a movie. Penny seemed to be of the same mind and stood before anyone else did. Greg followed her cue and walked out of the hall with her, not stopping to chat to anyone on the way.

The ride back to Penny’s house was silent. Greg was still being assaulted by his thoughts, wondering if he was more messed up than he’d realized. He’d sworn off relationships but somehow he was in one up to his neck, completely losing his head. Perhaps it would be better if he cooled things with Penny for a while, just until he sorted himself out. He didn’t want to risk her falling in love with him too, only to find out he was…defective in some way. He couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing her.

“I’m sorry about the movie,” she said when he parked in her driveway and killed the Alfa’s engine. “Dumb of me not to check what it was before I invited you along.”

“I invited myself.” Like the controlling, bossy pain in the ass he was. “And it doesn’t matter about the movie.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Or in any part true. A 3D version of the
Texas Chainsaw Massacre
would have been less disturbing.

“It wasn’t like that, was it?” Penny asked. “You told me she ended it, but tell me it wasn’t that way.”

Greg eased out a long, slow breath. “We were at Saint Thomas’s, a grand old church in North Sydney. There were one hundred and fifty attendees, an additional two hundred waiting at the reception. And when the priest asked if there was anyone who objected to the marriage, my fiancée said, ‘I do.’”

“Oh God.”

Greg tilted his lips, trying for wry humor. “Right words, spoken at the wrong time.”

“That must have been awful.”

“I’ve had better moments.”

“I…I think I’ll head inside. Alone.” Her voice caught. “I think we can safely say the mood’s gone.”

She opened the door and got out, and despite Greg’s recent decision to cool things down, watching her rush away made his gut clench hard. He hopped out of the car and followed her with hurried paces to the porch, where she was already fitting her key into the lock.

“Penny, I’m sorry I ruined your night.”

“You’re sorry?
I’m sorry.
” She whirled round to face him, and to Greg’s shock, the porch light revealed the glisten of tears on her cheeks.

“You’re crying,” Greg said, distraught. “Dear God, why?”

“Because I hate her!” she burst out. “I don’t even know her and I hate her. The perfect woman, my ass. What a perfectly horrible bitch. How could she do that to you?”

Greg took a step back, further shocked by her outburst. At a loss, he offered, “The truth is I don’t know.”

“Me either.” A murderous look crossed her features. “Oh, I could seriously wring her neck.”

“You want to do Rochelle physical harm on my account?”

“Yeah, well.” She shrugged and swiped at her cheeks. “You deserve better, that’s all.”

Greg’s heart twisted. She was angry to the point of crying because another person had hurt him. It was so sweetly homicidal that all Greg’s sensible plans to take a step back from her flew out into the ether and disintegrated. How could he bear to cool things down when he loved her this much? When it seemed like maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way?

He strode towards her, hauled her into his arms and suggested in a low growl, “Why don’t you show me what you think I deserve?”

Penny kissed him full and hard on the mouth. The moment she did, she was lost and so was he. They fell into that swirling vortex of passion, kissing ravenously, clinging helplessly to each other. Greg shoved open her front door and they were in the hallway. The door closed as Greg pushed her against it, matching her rapacious kiss and bringing it up a notch when he shoved a hand inside her top and touched her breast.

Penny was already tugging at his polo shirt, urging him to rip it off. He drew back far enough to do it. In the soft glow of the hall light she’d left on, his lean, hard form was magnificent. She loved every sleek line of his body, loved the soft tuft of hair in the center of his chest that traveled down his abdomen until it disappeared beneath his waistband. Penny reached for his fly and started working it open, wet and more than ready for him.

He’d take her if she asked. Right up against the door in a frenzy of movement that would have them both crying out within minutes. She wanted it that way, like the impulsive creature she was. But this was about more than satisfying her urges. She needed to show him what his ex-fiancée hadn’t—that he was wonderful, irresistible, worthy of love.

He was worthy of her love, even though she knew he couldn’t return it, after all. Not when his heart was still broken. Maybe one day…

Tamping down her impatience—and her hope—Penny hooked a finger through his belt loop and gently tugged as she headed for the bedroom. She was going to have to let him go soon, at least until he worked out how to feel, how to trust. At least until he could watch a movie about failed weddings without turning cold all over. But that time wasn’t now.

Right now, she wanted to love him no matter how painful it would be if he could never love her back. She needed to heal him.

“That’s one way to get a man to follow you,” Greg quipped when she’d dragged him all the way to her bedroom and shut the door to stop the cats interrupting. Maleficent had taken a shine to Greg, and grown into the habit of following him everywhere, occasionally hissing at Penny when she snuggled too close to him. She’d completely thrown her support behind the man. Not that Penny could blame her. He inspired that kind of devotion.

The Siamese would probably never forgive Penny if, when she let Greg go, he decided not to come back.

Penny held Greg’s gaze as, wordlessly, she undressed. She toed off her boots, slowly removed her top, then shimmied out of her skirt. Greg’s eyes were molten gold as they trailed over her form, covered only in brief white lace panties and a matching bra. When Penny reached for the front clasp and unhooked the bra, Greg reached for her.

“Penny…”

“Shh.” Naked save for her panties, Penny pressed her body to his, touched a finger to his lips. Everything inside her pulsed with awareness, both elemental and emotional. She adored him, and at last it was time for him to know it. “Let me love you.”

He let out a sound that could have been a gasp or a groan. Penny swallowed it into her as she kissed his mouth, slower this time, keeping him at bay when he reached for her with impatient need and tried to take over. She broke the kiss gently, moving her lips to his throat, his chest. She lavished attention on his nipples before sinking to her knees and tracing the outline of his abs with her tongue.

His fingers twisted in her hair when she drew his jeans and underwear down his thighs. She gave him what he wanted, what she wanted, and tasted his length with a long, slow lick. She looked up, watching him watch her as she ran her tongue around the circumference of his cock, took hold of the base and eased it into her mouth.

“Oh my God. Sweetheart… Yes. Feels so good.”

His groaned encouragements spurred Penny on, and she relaxed her throat muscles, taking him in as far as possible. She swirled her tongue as she bobbed her head on him, slowly, lovingly. She cupped his balls in her free hand and squeezed lightly until he cursed and his hips gave a reflexive jerk.

“Jesus!” he panted. “You make me want to fuck your mouth.”

Penny moaned, knowing he would feel the vibration of it on his shaft. She increased the pace of her maneuvers, letting him know how much his words turned her on. Greg’s grip on her hair tightened, and he thrust into her as she wanted him to, embedding himself deep into her mouth over and over.

“Incredible…God. Stop, sweetheart.” His command was raw and desperate as he used his grip on her hair to draw her off him. “I’ll come this way.”