Page 63 of The Games We Play
A memory so vivid it slammed into me, capable of knocking me on my ass if I let it: my tongue tracing the cool metal, the way her back arched, the way she moaned my name like it was a prayer and a curse all at once.
Fuck.
Not the time.Definitelynot the place.
Clearing my throat, I stepped from carpet to vinyl, the sound of my boots sharper now as I crossed the room toward her. She was laughing with a group of older women—probably organizing some craft show uprising—and when I got close, the entire group quieted like I wandered into some sacred coven I wasn’t supposed to know about.
“Ladies,” I greeted with a tight nod, eyes already on Penny. “Sorry to break up the gossip circle, but I’ve gotta steal her. The second graders are calling, and apparently, Miss Hudson is the only one who can answer.”
Penny smirked and muttered something that made the women laugh before they scattered like sparrows. None of them gave a damn about me—and that wasn’t new. Most older women didn’t like me… unless they were looking for a good time.
Maybe it was the tattoos.
Once we were alone, I bumped her shoulder lightly. Penny glanced up at me with those warm brown eyes, and something inside me pulled tight.
“I didn’t do half bad,” I said, throwing her a grin.
“Hmm, is that so?” she replied, amusement playing on her lips.
“Don’t act like you didn’t sneak in to watch.”
She stopped walking. I took a few more steps before realizing, then turned to face her.
“I was making sure the kids were okay,” she said, arching a brow. “You don’t know the first thing about children. For all I knew, you passed out cigarettes and taught them how to light them.”
I barked a laugh, planting my hands on my hips. “The teacher was literally five feet away. You think I’d corrupt her, too?”
I gave her a once-over—subtle, but not enough to go unnoticed. I watched the way her chest rose and fell, saw the blush coloring her skin, fading just below the neckline of her dress.
When my gaze met hers again, she was throwing daggers.
“Stop looking at me like you’re gonna eat me,” she rasped, voice lower than before. Not angry. Not warning. No—there was a softness in her tone that said she didn’t hate it.
“I can’t help it, Penelope,” I murmured, stepping just a breath closer. “You have that effect on me.”
She made a sound—barely a whimper—and shook her head, smiling despite herself.
Her fingers reached for my arm, warm and light. “Thank you, Mac. It means a lot that you came today. You really saved my ass.”
The teasing fell away, and something steadier settled between us.
Being flirty with Penny came naturally. It always had. But if I really wanted her—if I wanted more—then I had to show her the side of me I’d been quietly building. The part I’d uncovered reading romance novels I wouldn’t admit to borrowing, or after long conversations with Rhodes that forced me to feel shit instead of pushing it away.
“Anything you need,” I said, voice low, steady. “I’ll be there. You call, I’m yours.”
Penny’s eyes searched mine. “They did seem to like you.”
I smirked. “What can I say? I have that effect on people.”
She giggled—sweet, soft—and took a step back.
“Well, I better wrangle the little monsters and get them to their next event. The ladies are probably wondering where I am, too. If you see anyone at the front desk, can you let them know I’ll be right there?”
“Of course. I’ll see you around, Penelope.”
She waved, fingers fluttering, and turned toward the youth section while I headed for the exit.
As I passed the front desk, an older man stood waiting, so I made good on my promise and let him know Penny would be back soon.
