“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 stillfull 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 downto 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 wantedher, 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.”
