Page 24 of The Penalty

Xavier stretched out on his back, lacing his hands behind his head. As hot as he looked in his tux at the event, he looked just as delicious in jeans and a t-shirt. I swear, the man could wear plastic bags and I’d drool.

Great. I’ve become that girl.

“What’s on your mind, love? We’re all by ourselves on this beautiful beach. You can tell me.” His sapphire eyes locked onto mine.

I replayed all the things I’ve wanted to say to him over the last three weeks in my head. All the confusion and annoyance. But I also didn’t want to create too much tension between us, especially after what we shared last night.

Balance. I needed to figure out the balance.

“Come here,” he said, gently pulling me down so I could nestle into him. I rested my head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and inhaling his clean scent. Somehow it was even more intoxicating mixed with the salty ocean air.

“How long are you staying?”

“As long as it takes.”

“Don’t you have training and international matches to—”

“I said as long as it takes. If I have to fly back and forth every week, I will.” His answer came out low and rough, almost pained.

I propped myself up on an elbow, searching his face. It was neutral but his eyes always betrayed him. At least they did around me. Behind the tortured glow I saw his deep love and devotion.

And his fear.

Xavier’s expression flickered from indifferent to covetous. He sat up, pulling me onto his lap.

“Is this where the picture of you and your sister is from? The one on your birthday?”

“Sort of. We took it in the yard.” I motioned to my left. “The house is back that way.” I glanced at Xavier. “You don’t want to see it, do you?”

He smiled at whatever expression planted itself on my face. “No. Your aversion to your family’s houses has been duly noted.”

Relief flooded through me. I would have shown him if he’d asked but I’d rather not walk down memory lane if given the choice. Sitting on the beach in his lap seemed like a much better option. Part of me feared this was all an elaborate dream and I’d wake up alone and miserable.

“I stopped by your cottage the other day.”

My lips parted in surprise. “Really? Why?”

The warmth of his hands bled through my clothes when he slid them around my waist, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “I wanted to feel close to you.”

My heart rate kicked up a notch. I’m not one to blush but I’ll be damned if my cheeks didn’t burn an obvious pink.

And the pièce du résistance? About a million butterflies (give or take) invaded my stomach.

Collecting myself on a breath I quipped, “I’m surprised it wasn’t to toss the gold couch in the garbage.”

“That’s still a possibility,” he drawled. “I actually sat on it, if you can believe that.”

“Wow.” I laughed. “Who are you and what have you done with the insufferably snobbish guy I met on the side of the road?”

My words hung in the air for a second before he laughed. The sound slid over me, rich and textured and sexy.

“Yeah, he’s…he’s been having a go of it lately.” Melancholy replaced the remnants of amusement filling the corners of his mouth. “I really did go there to feel closer to you.”

“Did it help?”

“More than you’ll ever know.”

That house caused me so much anxiety and stress. But it comforted him. The paradox floored me.

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