Page 38 of Penalty Kiss
I stretch, every muscle protesting in the most satisfying way, and replay the morning in my head like game footage. The way she looked spread out on that kitchen counter—all soft curves and desperate need. The sounds she made when I was buried inside her. The shocked, beautiful way she fell apart around me.
My concussed brain might drop conversations and forget faces, but it's holding onto every detail of her coming undone.The way her back arched when I hit that spot inside her. How her nails raked down my shoulders when she couldn't hold back anymore. The taste of her skin when I kissed her neck while she was still shaking.
Yeah. I'm keeping all of that forever.
The shower shuts off, and I hear her moving around in there. Getting dressed. Probably giving herself a pep talk about how this was a "moment of weakness" and we need to "keep things professional."
I grin into the pillow.Good luck with that, Taralyn Delacroix.
Because now I know her real name. Her real story. And more importantly, I know exactly how she sounds when she's begging for more.
The bathroom door opens, and she emerges in a cloud of vanilla-scented steam, fully dressed in jeans and light long-sleeved blouse that hides every inch of skin I just had my mouth on. Her hair is dark and damp, and pulled back in a neat, thick ponytail. She looks like she's ready to serve coffee and deflect personal questions.
"Good morning again, sunshine," I say, not bothering to cover up with the sheet. Let her get a good look at what she's trying to retreat from.
Her gaze drops to my chest, then lower, and I watch her cheeks flush pink before she snaps her eyes back to my face.
"Hello," she says, her voice carefully polite. Professional. "I made a second pot of coffee. And I was thinking..."
Here we go.
"...that was probably a mistake."
I sit up, letting the sheet pool around my waist. "Which part? The part where you trusted me with your secrets, or the part where I made you scream my name so loud your lovely neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Hotchkiss probably heard it?
She sputters, color flooding her face. "Cam!"
"What? Too direct?" I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand up, completely naked, completely comfortable. "Because I seem to remember you being pretty direct when you were riding me against that wall."
"That's—" She spins around, presenting me with her back. "That's not the point."
"Then what is the point?" I ask, padding across the room to where she's standing rigid by the window.
I don't touch her, but I get close enough that she can feel the heat radiating off my skin. Close enough that if she turned around, she'd be pressed against my chest.
"The point is that we have a situation to deal with," she says, her voice slightly breathless. "Dangerous people looking for me. You recovering from a brain injury. This thing between us—it's just going to complicate everything."
"This thing?" I repeat, letting amusement color my voice. "Is that what we're calling the best sex of your life?"
She makes a strangled sound. "It’s my only... argh, you're infuriating!"
"I'm honest." I lean closer, my mouth near her ear. "You want to hear what’s more honest? It’s that I plan to have you in every space of this house before this is over. Starting with that shower you just vacated."
She shudders, a full-body tremor that tells me everything I need to know about her resolve.
“You… we—” She drags in a breath, straightens her spine. “We’re teammates. Partners. Focused on staying safe."
"Babe," I murmur, my breath stirring the fine hairs at the nape of her neck, "teammates don't know how the other one tastes."
She spins around so fast she almost collides with my chest, her eyes blazing. "This isn't a game, Cam. You could get hurt. Your brain—"
"My brain is fine." I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to meet my gaze. Maybe I can't remember what I had for breakfast three days ago, but I remember every second of this morning. Every sound you made. Every place you like to be touched."
To prove my point, I brush my thumb over the spot on her neck where I left the faintest mark. She gasps, her pupils dilating.
"I remember that you're brave enough to run from a billion-dollar empire but scared enough to check your locks three times last night," I continue.
"I remember that you make everyone around you feel seen and cared for, but you don't let anyone do the same for you."
