Page 99 of Penalty Kiss
We collapse against each other, gasping, sweat-slicked skin pressed together in the aftermath. His weight is heavy, sweet and anchoring, his heartbeat a frantic drum against my ear.
Slowly, the world filters back in—the hum of the refrigerator, the faint scent of dish soap and sex, the cool air on my flushed skin.
He nuzzles my hair, pressing a kiss to my temple, his breathing gradually slowing. His arms tighten around me, pulling me even closer against the solid warmth of his chest.
A profound sense of safety, ofrightness, settles over me, deeper than the bone-deep satisfaction humming through my veins.
Here, in the messy aftermath, surrounded by the remnants of Karla’s fake party and the echoes of my truth, I am utterly, completely held and loved.
Chapter 17
Peaches & Punches
Cam
The first thing cutting through the haze isn't thought—it's sensation. The warm weight of a woman's thigh slung over my hip, anchoring me to consciousness.
The second is the scent of her— vanilla from her skin, the sharp pine of my soap in her hair, and beneath it all, the deep musk of sex.Oursex.
My eyes crack open slightly, and the early morning sunlight slanting through the loft window hits me.
Dark hair tangled across my chest and the pillow. Sunlight gilds her cheek, the sweep of lashes against skin.
For a split second, the fog in my head threatens to roll in, that familiar, frustrating, disorienting grayness of my PCS.
No. Not Now.
Then I feel her breath against my collarbone. Steady. Warm. Familiar.
The fog retreats, burned away by the overwhelming reality ofher.
Tara. Taralyn Delacroix. My love.
Curled into my side, her head nestled in the hollow of my shoulder, one hand fisted in my pajama shirt. She's deeply asleep,utterly vulnerable, and the trust implicit in that surrender hits me harder than any check I ever took on the ice.
A fierce wave of possessiveness washes over me.Mine.This incredible, resilient, courageous woman ismine. And she brings me out of my fog, never wanted my fame, she remembers for me, when my own mind is gone.
The protective instinct is a physical ache, a need to shield her from every shadow she's known. I tighten my arm around her, needing the solid, breathing proof of her against me. It’s not just comfort. She’s my anchor, my home.
Her body holds me when darkness presses in and fits against mine like the missing piece I never knew I needed.
My gaze drifts down to where the sheet has slipped. Her breasts are bared, full and magnificent, rising with each breath. One dusky nipple is puckered against the morning cool. A low groan vibrates in my chest.
She's so beautiful.
It's not just lust—though that's there, thrumming under my skin.
It's reverence.
The urge to worship her overwhelms me. Carefully, I lean down, my mouth finding that tight peak. I suckle gently, and a low, throaty moan escapes her lips. Her body arches instinctively, pushing deeper into the heat of my mouth.
Her eyes flutter open, hazy with sleep and pleasure. "Aren't you tired from last night, handsome?"
I pull back, feigning a thoughtful frown while my morning erection makes an obvious tent in the sheets. "Last night? Sorry, the memory's foggy. My head's been through a lot.”
A wicked smile spreads across her face. "Poor baby. Need help remembering?"
Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my abs, making my situation more urgent. "But your parents are down the hall, and your mother can hear through walls."
