Page 35 of Penalty Kiss
I melt into him, my hands fisting in his hair, pulling him closer. He tastes like promises of safety and danger rolled into one intoxicating package.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"There's one more thing," I manage, my lips still tingling from his kiss.
"What?"
Heat floods my face, but I force myself to meet his eyes. "I'm... I've never..."
Understanding dawns on his face, followed by something that looks dangerously like reverence.
"Virgin," he says softly, not a question.
I nod, mortified and aroused in equal measure.
"Damn, Tara." His forehead drops to mine. "You're going to kill me."
"Is that... bad?"
His laugh is rough, strained. "Bad? Sweetheart, knowing I get to be your first? Knowing I get to show you how good it can be?" His hands slide down my sides, settling on my hips. "That's not bad. That's everything."
The air between us crackles with heat, with possibility, with the weight of secrets finally shared. I can feel his heart hammering against his ribs, can see the want burning in his eyes.
"Cam," I whisper, not sure what I'm asking for.
His hands span my waist, lifting me easily onto the kitchen counter. The cold granite makes me gasp, but then his body is between my thighs, warm, solid, and perfect.
"Tell me what you want," he says, his voice rough with barely contained need.
"I want..." I start, then stop, embarrassed by my own boldness.
"What, babe? Tell me."
"I want to forget," I admit. "Just for a little while, I want to forget about my family and the danger and all of it. I want to feel something that's just mine."
His eyes darken. "I can do that."
His mouth crashes back to mine, rougher this time, all hunger and heat. His tongue pushes past my lips, claiming, teasing, demanding more, and I give it to him, tugging at his hair like I can anchor myself in him.
His hands roam down my sides, slow and deliberate, then curl under my thighs, pulling me to the edge of the counter. The hard bulge pressing against me makes my breath catch. I’ve never felt anything like it — the thickness, the heat, the sheer male solidity of him slotting between my legs. My body pulses with want, raw and unrelenting.
“Cam,” I whisper against his mouth, part plea, part warning.
“I’ve got you, baby.” His voice is filled with need, but steady. “I’ll take care of you. First time’s gonna be mine, and you’re gonna love every second.”
His fingers slip under my T-shirt, skimming up over my stomach, my ribs, until he’s cupping my breasts. The cotton bra does nothing to dull the sensation of his thumbs rubbing over my hardened nipples. Sparks shoot through me, and I arch into his hands, my thighs tightening around his waist.
“So sensitive,” he groans, kissing down my throat, nipping the tender skin. “Every part of you is begging for this.”
He drags the shirt over my head, tossing it aside, then unhooks my bra with infuriating ease. My chest is bare to him, flushed and trembling, and the way he looks at me —reverent, greedy— makes me wetter than I thought possible.
“Beautiful,” he rasps. “Mine.” His mouth closes over one breast, sucking hard, while his hand kneads the other. I cry out, the sound raw and shocked, and he moans against me like it fuels him.
“Cam, please—”
He lifts his head, eyes blazing. “I know, baby. You’re ready for me. But I want you naked first.”
He strips me quick, shorts and panties gone in one pull, leaving me bare on the cold counter. I’ve never been this exposed, but with him between my thighs, I can feel how wet I am, throbbing with need.
