Chapter 16
ONE OF THE GREAT THINGS ABOUT BEING A PROFESSIONAL athlete in the twenty-first century was that even when practice was done for the day, there were hundreds of other ways to train.
For Penny, that often meant sitting in the cool, dark analysis room studying video of herself and her potential opponents, breaking down strengths and weaknesses.
Usually her attention was fully focused, pulling her into a zone not unlike what happened when she was actually in the middle of a match.
However, as she stared at the screen, trying to establish a pattern in Zina Lutrova’s shot selection, her mind drifted. Rolling her eyes at herself, she paused the video, pulled her phone from her pocket, and thumbed through the pictures Athlete Weekly had used in its article.
A pictorial review of the biggest mistake she’d ever made and the constant distraction Alex had proved to be since then. His physical presence every single day was the sweetest torture, like nothing she’d ever felt before. So, what was stopping her?
Then someone flipped the light switch, blinding her for a second.
“What are you still doing here?” Dom frowned at her from the doorway.
“Just some video.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” He nodded at the paused screen that she obviously hadn’t even been looking at, let alone analyzing. “Go home, get some rest. We’ve got a long road ahead of us once we get to Paris, and an even longer season after that.”
“Right,” Penny said, putting her phone back in her pocket and standing.
“Don’t let this press bother you, okay? None of it means anything.”
Smiling tightly at her coach, she nodded. “You know me, Dom. Nothing to worry about.”
Before he could respond, she hustled out of the room, down the hallway, and into the atrium.
It was empty at this time of night. She took a step toward the front entrance, then stopped.
She didn’t want to go home, where she’d have to face her family and talk about that article and Alex and everything. She needed some peace.
She didn’t even realize where her feet were taking her until she found herself standing in a familiar spot.
She stepped out onto the empty practice court and inhaled deeply.
A breeze swirled up from the water and the salty air invaded her senses, but her shoulders were still tense, her mind still full of everything that had happened that day—hell, everything that had happened since she found Alex in this exact spot.
Maybe he was onto something. She lay down and closed her eyes.
She was close enough to the water to hear the waves rumbling against the shore, a sound that was overshadowed during the day by voices and match noise and the general OBX buzz.
A deep breath in and a slow exhale out, and then another, but it wasn’t having the calming effect he promised her.
“This wasn’t a good idea,” she mumbled to herself, sitting up.
“It was. You’re just doing it wrong.”
Her back teeth clenched at the distinct British accent that rang out over the soft roar of the ocean. He stood just outside the court, leaning on the fence.
“Didn’t ask you, did I?” she shot back, standing up and dusting off her shorts.
Alex raised an eyebrow at her, a smug smirk tugging at his mouth. “Then what are you doing here?”
“I don’t know. I… Fine. Tell me what I’m doing wrong,” she said, hoping that if he got in whatever shot he wanted to take, she could escape with at least some of her pride intact.
He hopped the fence, the chain link jangling against the frame, and approached her slowly. “You’re thinking too much. That’s your problem, Penny. You think too bloody much.”
She refused to meet his eye as he drew closer. “So, I should be like you? No thinking, no worries, do whatever I want, to hell with the consequences.”
Alex bit out a laugh. “Consequences? What consequences? A silly article that everyone will forget about in a week?”
“Never mind. Obviously none of it matters to you.”
Turning, she started to walk away.
“That’s right,” he called out, “run away, like always.”
She stopped, her feet rooted to the spot, determined to contradict him.
His footsteps were soft but clear against the clay court, coming closer until he was right behind her, his breath warm and sweet against her temple.
She wanted to lean back into him, collapse against his chest, and let him hold her, give in to what she’d craved since the moment they met.
Instead, she whirled around and said, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His eyes narrowed, his gaze moving from hers down to her mouth and back again. “You sure about that?”
“Yes,” she said, not giving an inch as he moved closer.
“Still a terrible liar,” he murmured, before lowering his mouth to hers.
The kiss was soft at first, despite his accusation, and there was a question in the gentle brush of his lips, at the way his hands hovered over her hips before resting there, simply a place for them to land rather than pulling her closer or holding her tight.
“Penny,” he breathed as she lifted her hands, one palm against the rough stubble of his cheek, the other sliding around to the back of his neck, her fingers sifting through the ends of his hair.
He leaned into her touch, and then, with a twist of her fingers and a less-than-gentle tug of his hair, a deep groan tore from his throat, his hands suddenly gripping at her hips, pressing into the skin, while she drew his mouth back down to hers, nipping at his lower lip.
Then a hand to her neck, his thumb at the line of her jaw, and the tilt of their heads as he deepened the kiss, an arm snaking around her entire body, drawing her to his chest.
No battle of tongues or teeth, like back in Australia, not the electric intensity of their recent battles on and off the court, but something deliberate and reverential and terrifying in its honesty.
She wanted that. Wanted him. Wanted the way he made her feel, beautiful and powerful and like she was more than a tennis robot cobbled together into something vaguely person-shaped. He wanted her, not her forehand or backhand or serve. And she wanted him even more because of it.
And why shouldn’t she have what she wanted?
When they parted, gasping for breath, Penny brushed soft kisses along his jawline, pushing up onto her toes before whispering, “Take me home with you.”
He blinked, his eyes unfocused and dazed, as he tried to understand her. “Yeah?” he asked, just as quietly, like if either was too loud, they’d break whatever spell had finally gotten them here.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night in Australia.
I never stopped wanting you, and you were right the other night.
I am scared, I’m petrified that if I give in to this, I’ll lose myself in it, in you, but…
” She trailed off as his hand reached up to brush a lock of her hair away from her face.
“But…” he asked.
“But I don’t let fear stop me from going after the things I want,” she let out in one long breath before meeting his eyes and holding his gaze. “And I want you.”
“Holy shit,” he cursed, but her words were enough to break the hold he had on himself.
His mouth on hers, hot and open and all-consuming, her entire weight taken in his arms, a hand around her thigh, the other across her hips as she wound her arms around his neck, his shoulders broad and strong as he carried her to the back of the court, pressing her into the fence and then letting out a sound of protest when it proved to be too unstable for his intended purpose.
Penny laughed, sliding out of his grasp, and when her feet touched the ground, she grinned up at him, eyes wild. “Race you.”
Then, slipping out from under his arms, she took off at full speed across the court, through the gate, and straight for the stairs down to the beach, his pounding footsteps echoing behind her.
The wind whipped against her face as she ran, and she knew he could catch her easily if he chose.
Instead, he was a step or two in her wake and followed her up the long, sandy path to his house; lights illuminated their way every few feet until the path led up to a back porch overlooking the water.
When she reached the back door, she stopped and whirled around as he took one final stride and stood in front of her, his breath as ragged and uneven as hers.
“I…” he started, staring down at her in wonder. “I… are you sure?” he finally managed to ask, the open vulnerability clearly uncomfortable for him. “I don’t think… I don’t think I could take it if I woke up tomorrow and you were gone, so if you…”
Penny shook her head, her heart clenching at the thought of hurting him again, knowing he didn’t show this side of himself to just anyone. She wasn’t the only one who was scared, and that made everything so much easier, knowing they were in this thing together.
She stepped closer, reaching for him, taking his hand in hers and lifting it to her lips, pressing a kiss to his palm. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, bringing their joined hands to her cheek and leaning into his touch as his fingers slipped into her hair, cradling the back of her head.
The insecurity was gone from his gaze and replaced by that fire she’d come to know so well, and she reveled in it.
She’d always marveled at his talent, but his ability to lift her into his arms while sucking a bruising kiss into the sensitive skin just beneath her ear and get the door behind them open—and then closed again—as he carried her inside was beyond impressive.
Her sneakers fell to the floor and her socks, too, and she felt the shift of his weight as he toed his own shoes off—she’d compliment him on his multitasking the next day.