Page 95 of The Penalty

No smashed car.

No frantic speeding through London.

No strange guys who can’t keep their fucking hands to themselves.

Just us.

Victoria’s lips parted on a soft exhale. I cupped the back of her neck, massaging it with my thumb in long, languid strokes. The reality of her was so addicting and raw and consuming. A living, breathing drug.

Before her, football was my drug of choice. I constantly chased the high of adoration and winning. I still wanted all that. But now?

Now I desperately craved beautiful smiles and bright laughter. Warmth, grace, and light, all packaged in the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen.

Victoria’s hand slid under my shirt. Her touch was hot and real and felt so bloody good.

“I have a confession.”

“Tell me.” I continued my lazy strokes along the back of her neck.

The warmth of her hand traveled over my stomach. “I bought you a present.”

Not sure if I shivered from her touch or the idea of a surprise gift. I don’t even like surprises. “Really? What did I do to deserve one?”

I dipped my head. Our mouths hovered close. She buried her other hand in my hair again.

“Nothing. I just saw it and thought of you,” she replied, pressing her lips to mine.

Elation surged through me when she teased my mouth with her tongue, deepening our kiss. So did a healthy dose of lust and my usual urge to take her any way I pleased.

She hooked her legs around my waist, making it easier for her to feel how much I wanted her. My cock has been a rod of steel since I saw her at the stadium. I kissed her harder, more possessive.

Pulling on her hair, I roughly positioned her head so I could plunder the softness of her mouth.

The silkiness of her tongue caressed mine, savoring me.

“You are going to be the death of me,” I rasped on her lips. “I will never be able to get enough of you.”

The sound of her laugh filled every broken part of me. “Looks like you have your work cut out, Maddox.”

“I do.” A full smile curved my mouth. “I like seeing you this way.”

“What way? Sitting on a counter in the servant’s quarters of an old French castle?”

“No.” I squeezed her waist, eliciting a squeal. “Looking hot as fuck in my jersey. And kissing me, of course.”

“Oh, right. Kissing you.” She bit down on my lip, drawing a low moan out of me. “Your admirers out there might not agree with the kissing part.”

“Do you think I care?”

Her fingers hooked into the waistband of my jeans. “No. Just wanted to put it out there that I noticed.”

The casual tone didn’t mask the visible tension lining Victoria’s shoulders. She’s seen how other women interacted with me in public, specifically fans and former one night stands. They always tend to touch me and lay it on pretty thick with the flirting.

A smile played on my lips.

“Are you jealous?” A deceptive softness wrapped around my low, mocking tone.

Victoria’s eyes narrowed as she placed her hands in her lap. “Should I be?”

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