Page 20 of The Penalty

“I’m so sorry.”

I close my eyes, blowing a breath out to calm the knee jerk panic that stole my breath when she touched my bag.

“No, I’m sorry.” She’s been nothing but kind and generous and I’m acting like she’s some master thief about to steal the shitty belongings and snacks I always keep in my shitty bag.

“I’m still hungry. I was going to see if you had another snack. They said room service is going to be an hour. I didn’t mean to touch your stuff.”

“It’s fine. I overreacted. Sorry.”

I’m an idiot, and those wide eyes full of fear and remorse cut right into my heart. I rifle through the bag again, grabbing one of my precious dried fruit bars to hand her.

She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll grab something from the minibar.”

After unfolding herself from the bed, she swings her thick legs over the side, jumping off.

Look at me. Ruining what was promising to be an amazing weekend with my issues.

“The mini bar is way too expensive. Take this.”

I snag her arm, pulling until she spins around to face me and offering her the bar.

She glances down at it, hesitating before she takes it from my hand. Her soft skin brushes mine and an electric jolt zips through me. Maybe it’s salvageable if I can keep my shit together for the rest of the night.

“I totally get it. I hate it when my brother touches my stuff. We had a constant battle when we were kids to keep our hands to ourselves.”

I nod, not really understanding. None of the kids I grew up around were related to me. And I also didn’t spend long enough in one place to develop that kind of relationship. The nearest I’ve gotten is with my team. Those guys are the closest I’ve come to a real family. The way they look out for each other is new to me.

“He a pain?”

Her beautiful smile is back on her face as she laughs. “You could say that. But he’s also amazing. He’s always looking out for me, and I love him. I make him crazy, too. Often intentionally, but don’t tell him.”

I reach over, peeling her fingers open to place the food in her palm before squeezing them shut. Needing to make it up to her. It’s a hundred percent worth it when she smiles at me again, lighting up the room.

We fall quiet. The only sounds punctuating the silence are the crinkle of the wrapper and her munching noises. Loud laughter and the sound of a door slamming invade our peace. She fumbles the ball of garbage she was tossing in the can across from the bed, and it hits the wall two feet from her mark.

“Your brother is the athlete of the family, I see.”

“Shut up.” Her hand flies out to smack my arm, and I wince.

Luckily, she’s glancing out the window, so I think she missed my overreaction to her light touch.

“It’s fine. You’re an artist. Got anything I can see?”

She spins around exorcist fast, looking at me, then away. Her hands fiddle with the edge of the sheet, and it’s a real shame when she pulls the blanket up over all that glorious flesh.

“I don’t know. I don’t usually show guys my art on the first date.”

Even when she’s feeling vulnerable, she’s funny. “Good thing it’s not a date.

Her lips push out, and now I’m remembering what they taste like. I lean in, unable to resist the urge to nibble on that lower one again. Still fucking delicious.

“True,” she mumbles when I pull away. “No fair. You’re trying to lure me into submission with kisses.”

“Is it working?”

“Hmm. Maybe. Want to try harder? A little tongue perhaps?”

That’s an invitation I’m happy to accept. I dive in, grabbing the back of her head to pull her in closer. Her hair feels soft and fine, like freshly spun cotton candy tangled around my fingers, and her lips taste just as sweet when I slip inside.

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