Page 82 of The Penalty

“Fine. Let me just...” His thumb swipes around the edges of my lips. “You’ve got some lipstick.”

I laugh, looking up to spot a coral stain around his mouth, too. “You too.” I return the favor, and his tongue darts out to lick my finger as I’m cleaning him up.

“Stop it.” My nipples are like glass at this point, so I lean in a little closer until we’re chest to chest to ease some of the pressure.

A knock at the door sends a jolt of adrenaline racing through me, and I glance back at Dev. He looks fine. No smeared lipstick. No signs of the illicit kiss we shared.

“Who is it?” Now he sounds irritated, and I don’t blame him one bit. Whoever is at the door can fuck right off.

“It’s Beau. I’m coming in. You decent?”

I stumble back a few steps, while Dev clears the gravel from his throat. He raises a dark brow at me, and I give him a shaky little nod, heart pounding.

“Cece?” Beaus says as he pushes through the door.

“I was just… I told you I’d talk to him.”

“She was helping me with my tie.” Dev slides in with a smooth save.

“Was she? Cool. Did you get your clothes, Sis?”

“Not yet. I was heading there next. I’ll just go. Leave you two.”

Beau snags my arm as I’m trying to hustle off. “Wait a minute.”

“What?” How can he not hear my heart trying to leap out of my chest?

“You’ve got a little something. Under your eye.” He points to my right eye, and I swipe my thumb over the spot, pulling it away to spot some mascara clinging to my digit.

“Thanks. Okay, I’ll just get my stuff.”

“You need help carrying it?” my brother asks.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m good. Meet you downstairs.”

I rush out of there like I’m being chased and bolt for the protection of my childhood bedroom.

Chapter 26

In The Club

Dev

I could see Beau’sshoulders get more and more tense the closer we got to his family home, and I can’t say I blame him. The place is cold and imposing. It looks more like a fancy old house you’d visit on a museum tour than a place real people actually live in. Warmth is not a feeling I associate with a family home. Although a couple of my foster places had a comfortable vibe. Maybe I’ve watched too many sitcoms. I’m expecting some ideal family situation. And maybe it’s just a fantasy. Something that only exists on TV screens. It’s what I’ve always yearned for. A permanent home. The hockey house is the closest I’ve gotten.

At least the Whitakers let us drive to the club together, so I don’t have to deal with that awkward meeting yet. It was weird. Neither of their parents ventured out to greet us as wewalked in. Some glorious homecoming. Probably better in a public setting.

If it’s possible, I’ve been even more uncomfortable than Beau since we started our journey. Between worrying about the proximity with Cece, and the feeling of being dropped in a world I don’t belong in like a time traveler from the 1800s showing up in the 2000s. My suit feels snugger than usual, and I keep reaching up to adjust the collar trying to choke me out.

The feeling only intensifies as we turn up the driveway. Massive trees crowd the massive black gate at the turnoff. It’s as if they’re on a mission to keep out the tired and weary masses. This is not the place for you, it practically screams.

The gates swing open to admit us after Beau greets the guy at the gate. I’d call him a guard, but if he is, it’s more of an undercover sort of thing. He’s got on a crimson vest over a crisp white shirt, and his hair is slicked back in a tidy sweep.

He looks down his nose at us but gives Beau a huge smile.

“Mr. Whitaker, so nice to have you back.”

“Thanks. Good to see you, Jerome.”

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