Page 19 of Once Upon A Second Chance
Penny sags against a lamppost, her exhaustion palpable in the way her shoulders slump, the slight tremble in her hands as she pushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. We haven’t slept in over 24 hours.
"You’re dead on your feet," I murmur.
She huffs a tired laugh. "Takes one to know one."
I don’t argue. My own body feels like it’s been run over by a truck, every muscle aching from the long day’s chaos. But the thought of her walking home alone in the aftermath of the storm—after everything—sits like a stone in my gut.
"Come on," I say, nodding down the street. "I’ll walk you."
She hesitates, just for a second, before nodding.
We move through the quiet streets, the only sounds our footsteps and the distant hum of generators.
The storm left the air thick with the scent of wet earth and broken pine. Penny walks close enough that our arms brush occasionally, the heat of her seeping through my sleeve.
"You were incredible today," I say.
She glances at me, surprised. "So were you."
I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. "Still remember how to read my mind, huh?"
A small smile tugs at her lips. "Some things don’t change."
Her house looms ahead, the porch light a warm beacon in the dark. We stop at the foot of the steps, the air between us suddenly charged.
"Thanks for today—well, technically yesterday, I guess," she says softly. "And for… you know. Not letting me get sucked into a tornado."
I grin. "Anytime."
She turns to go, but I catch her wrist. "Penny."
She stills. My thumb brushes the delicate skin under her palm, feeling her pulse jump.
When she looks back at me, her eyes are dark, her lips slightly parted.
That’s all the invitation I need.
I step into her, one hand sliding around her waist, the other cradling her jaw. She gasps as I back her against the porch railing, her body arching into mine.
And then—
Our mouths crashtogether.
It’s not gentle.
It’s twelve years of longing poured into a single kiss, hot and desperate and oh, so right.
Penny’s fingers tangle in my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan. I nip at her lower lip, and she opens for me with a sigh, her tongue sliding against mine in a rhythm that’s as familiar as my own heartbeat.
Her hips press against me, and I groan, pinning her harder against the railing. She tastes like coffee and exhaustion and home, and I can’t get enough.
My hands roam—down her back, over the curve of her ass, up under her shirt to skim the warm skin of her waist.
She shivers. "Richard—"
I swallow her moan, kissing her deeper. Her nails scrape down my neck, and I’m gone, lost in the feel of her, the sound of her ragged breaths, the way her body fits perfectly against mine like we were made for this.
The porch light flickers above us.
