Page 100 of Penalty Kiss
"My mother raised two boys. She knows what we're doing. Besides… Dr Martinez’s orders: sensory exercises to rebuild my pathways."
My gaze drops with purpose. “For example, if I concentrate on the weight of you in my hand, I can probably recall the exact sound you made when I had you on the kitchen counter.”
She chokes on a half-giggle, warm and bright. “You’re a menace, Cam Wilder. A shameless, beautiful menace.” Her hand slides lower.
“Look who’s talking.” I catch her wrist, holding it firm before she undoes me completely. My brow arches, deliberate.
“But you’re right,” I murmur, leaning close until my mouth brushes her ear. My voice goes rougher. “Restraint can be… delicious.”
I let the pause stretch, heat sliding between us like a blade.
“So let’s make it a game.”
She rolls her eyes, but her grin is feral. “Everything’s a game with you.”
“A game of control.” I whisper the rules: touches, glances, whispers. Anything to seduce, the entire day. Whoever cracks first, begs for more, loses.
Her breath hitches. “You’re turning our relationship into a competition? You’ve been off the ice too long.”
“There are losers on the scoreboard,” I murmur, kissing the soft spot behind her ear, “but not in this bed. We both walk away getting exactly what we want. As winners.”
She meets my eyes, challenge accepted. “You’re on, Wilder. Prepare to be utterly destroyed.”
I laugh. She has no idea who she’s messing with.
After a shower that tested our new game's limits, we join my parents downstairs in Lily's commercial kitchen. Mom fusses at the stove while Dad reads his tablet, content.
The easy domesticity—Tara fitting against my side while I make coffee—settles something deep in my chest. This is what I want. Every morning, every crisis, every ordinary moment.
"Luke's already wheels up from DIA," Dad says. "Told me to tell you not to overdo it today."
"Shocked he didn't leave laminated instructions," I say, stealing bacon. Mom swats my hand.
Karla bustles in through the Sugar Jar door, clipboard hugged to her chest like it’s an extra limb. “Rise and shine, Wilders.” She softens with an indulgent smile at Tara. “And good morning to you, Ms. Delacroix.”
Tara steps forward and folds Karla into a hug that’s bigger than it has any right to be at this hour. It’s gratitude poured straight into arms: for yesterday, for everything Karla did to rally this town when we needed it.
"First weekend of the Fall Farmers Market today—the whole town will be there." Karla announces.
“Farmers Market?” Tara perks up, bright as the morning light. “That sounds fun! Auntie, shall we go?”
“That’s a definite yes! Colorado peaches won’t wait.”
Both women then turn their expectant gazes on Dad and me, and we already know resistance is futile.
A trip to the Farmer’s market will lift everyone spiritsPlus, if Lucien is stupid enough to show his face, he won’t get far — safety in numbers, and this town would bury him under peaches before he gets near.
I sling an arm around Tara’s shoulders, dipping close enough that only she hears the rasp in my voice. “Perfect. More people around means more witnesses when I win today.”
Her eyebrow arches, blue eyes sparking. “Win what?”
I let my thumb skim the barest line along her collarbone before retreating, just enough to tease. “The game, sweetheart. Gives me the whole day to work you over until you crack, and Cedar Falls gets front-row seats.”
Her eyes flash, her mouth curving in that dangerous little smile. “You think you can outlast me?”
“Sweetheart,” I murmur, letting my thumb trace the bare edge of her collarbone before I withdraw. “With my stamina,” I wink leerily at her, “I know I can.”
She laughs, soft and wicked, and her hand fists in my shirt like she’s already two seconds from proving me wrong.
