Page 32 of Penalty Kiss
Kicks like a linebacker.
Bites her lip when she’s holding back smart remarks… kissable when she moans.
Makes me want her in ways I don’t even have names for.
Checks the locks three times—like she doesn’t know she’s safe with me.
"Cam," I whisper, but I don't know what else to say.
His hands are still framing my face, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones with feather-light touches. His jaw is a hard line, but his gaze softens, focusing on me with an intensity that feels like it’s peeling back every layer I’ve ever used to hide.
“I need you to hear this, Tara,” he says, his voice a low, urgent rumble that vibrates through his palms into my skin. “Look at me.”
I do, and the world narrows to his beautiful face.
“This thing between us… what’s happening right now… it’s not me being a nice guy. It’s not a distraction from my screwed-up brain or because I’m bored out of my skull.”
He takes a breath, like he’s gathering every honest piece of himself to lay at my feet. “For weeks, my world has been a fog. Moments, names, whole days just… gone. It’s like living in a ghost story where I’m the one fading. But you…” His thumb brushes my lower lip, and a shiver races down my spine.
“You’re the one thing I don’t want to lose.”
His words tug at me. They’re exactly what I’ve always wanted but I never allowed myself to wish for—never in a million years.
Someone who sees me.
Hope. It’s a terrifying, beautiful thing.
And the irony? The man who struggles to remember is the one who says it to me.
“Tara, this broken piece of junk in my skull still fights to keep you,” he says, eyes burning like he’s inside my head. “Two days, and you’re already carved in. That has to mean something.”
“Stop! Don’t say another word. I’m not who you think I am.” The truth bursts out before I can swallow it back down. I won’t let him stake his heart on a lie.
He tilts his head, eyes narrowing just slightly. "What do you mean?"
This is it. The moment where I tell him the truth and watch him walk away. Where I explain that Tara Haynes is a carefully constructed lie, and the real me comes with more baggage than he can possibly imagine.
"My name," I start, then stop. Take a breath. Try again. "My real name isn't Tara Haynes."
His expression doesn't change. He just waits, quiet intensity radiating from him.
"It's Taralyn," I continue, each word feeling like stepping off a cliff. "Taralyn Delacroix."
