Page 76 of Penalty Kiss
"I'm serious." I lean closer, letting her see the promise in my eyes. "I may not remember everything perfectly, but I remember this: you're mine to protect. Cedar Falls is ours to defend. And I've never backed down from a fight in my life."
"Even when the fight involves billionaires and organized crime?"
"Especially then." I grin, letting some of my old cocky confidence show through. "Plus, you have a few billionaires in Cedar Falls. Your family drama doesn't scare me."
She snorts despite herself. "You're insane."
"I'm in love," I correct. "There's a difference."
The words slip out before I can stop them, hanging between us like a live wire.
I should take it back. Pretend it was a joke. But the truth burns in my chest—I’ve been falling since the night she stood her ground in that alley, eyes blazing with courage. And every damn day since, she’s proved she’s more than the runaway heiress, more than the guarded waitress hiding in plain sight. She’s sharp, funny, breathtaking… a force of nature. Watching her is like standing too close to a star—beautiful, dangerous, impossible to look away.
I’d always pictured saying it later—when I was whole again, when the fog in my head finally cleared. But maybe waiting was the lie. What if there’s never a perfect moment, no guarantee my brain won’t betray me? Do I deny what’s tearing through me every time she looks at me?
All I know is this: I love her. And all I want—more than my career, more than my pride—is to be the man she deserves to love back.
Herbreath catches, her gaze locked on mine, and for a moment the room goes very still. Then, her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling in the fabric of my shirt like she’s anchoring me to the present.
And just like that, the pull between us shifts—from words to touch, from confession to hunger.
“Tara—” My voice breaks on her name.
She rises onto her knees, closing the distance, and suddenly her mouth is on mine. Not cautious. Not careful. Just fierce, claiming, the kind of kiss that strips the air from my lungs and leaves me dizzy.
Every muscle in me pulls tight. I’ve been aching for this, starving for it, and now that she’s here—now that she’s choosing me—I don’t care about restraint. My hands dive into her hair, tugging her closer, swallowing her gasp as I press her back into the cushions.
The love I confessed is still ringing in the air, and it’s in this kiss too—raw, demanding, desperate to brand her with it.
She pulls back just enough to speak, lips still brushing mine. “I think I want you right where you are.”
My brow lifts, breath ragged. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
She leans in, her whisper hot against my ear. “Because I plan to straddle you right here on this couch. Undress you, explore every part of you… and ride you until you forget your own name.”
A groan breaks out of me, helpless, my fingers clawing at the cushions to keep from flipping her beneath me.
“Sounds like you’ve thought this through,” I manage.
“I have. Just promise me you’ll let me take charge.”
“I promise,” I rasp. A wild rhythm stutters in my chest like it’s trying to break free. “So… what’s first?”
She swings her leg over, settling onto my lap, knees framing my hips. The weight of her against me has my cock straining, pressure sharp and unbearable.
“First,” she says, slow smile curving, “we lose some of these clothes.”
I nod, letting her take the lead, letting her set the pace. She leans in, her fingers working the buttons of my shirt open one by one, her knuckles brushing my chest each time the fabric parts, revealing my chest to her gaze. It’s deliberate, maddening, and she knows it.
By the time she pushes the shirt from my shoulders, her fingertips drag over my skin slow enough to make me shiver with anticipation.
Her gaze darkens. “Better.”
“And then?” My voice is rough, barely steady.
“Then,” she says, shifting so she can reach the waistband of my jeans, “we lose these.”
She undoes my belt, her fingers working the button with quick precision. When she pops the button and slides down the zipper, my breath shudders. I lift my hips, helping her tug the denim free until I’m left in nothing but boxers, painfully hard beneath the thin cotton.
