The Penalty Box - Teagan Kade Page 0,5

it,” he replies.

I nod once and set off. I don’t hold back. It’s twenty minutes to the top at full pace and I intend to make every one of them count. Who said you can’t make a King sweat?

I take the steps fast, two at a time where I can, concentrating on my breathing and that wonderful feeling of freedom running, true running, offers. The world is waking up but you’re tackling it full on, unafraid.

Screw it.

I double my pace. I know I’m pushing myself to the limit but I can’t press down that competitive streak in myself.

I take a tight bend and power upwards, conscious of Nolan starting to fall behind.

“No time for birdwatching!” I shout back. “Onwards, ho!”

That jolts him into action. Before long he’s clipping at my heels—sounds half dead, true, but he’s keeping up all the same.

My calves are burning and I’m pretty sure I’m going to feel this for days, but I push harder.

“Wait up…one second.”

I look back, surprised to see Nolan bent over with his hand up.

“You good?”

“I just need…a moment.”

“Like hell,” I laugh. “Let’s go.”

I start off and I hear a pained grunt as he starts to pick up pace again.

“You’re killing me,” he shouts.

“Push through it,” I yell back, surprisingly euphoric as we crest the final bend. It’s a brutal slog from here to the top. I engage overdrive and grit my teeth, determined to beat my PB.

I sense Nolan slipping again, about to throw in the towel. “Don’t you dare fucking quit on me, Nolan King!” I shout.

When we finally come to the flat of the summit, Nolan stumbles past me and collapses to the ground, rolling onto his back with his knees bent and hands holding his head, chest lifting and falling rapidly.

I’m breathing hard myself, step over him so he’s between my legs. I look down. “Nice job.”

“Jesus, you’re too much,” he pants.

“Funny. I hear that a lot.”

It’s true. Most guys are intimidated by me. I don’t hold back, and it shows, but maybe I did go too far this morning trying to prove what? I’m a badass? I can break him?

I want to keep seeing him, but if I keep up this level of aggression, I might just push him away. I need to hold back if I want this.

Ease up, I warn myself. If that’s even possible.

It’s a quieter, far slower descent. I can tell Nolan’s in pain but doing his best not to let it show.

I expect him to make a quick getaway when we get back to my place, which is why I’m doubly surprised when he asks me out to dinner before we’ve reached the front door.

“You sure?” I ask. “You might need medical attention first.”

“I’m sure.” He smiles.

I unlock the door and do my best to hide my excitement. I don’t get like this—all giddy and girly, but hell, I’m up for it. “It’s a date then.”

I let him inside to gather his things and leave, can’t resist a quick slap of that beautiful ass before he’s out the door. “Eight,” I remind him. “I’m a sucker for punctuality. It’s the soul of business, as my father would say.”

Nolan stops on the bottom step, looking up to me. “Is that what this is, business?”

And once more I’m reminded of the pleasure both received and given last night, the many curious ways we explored one another. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

I close the door and press up against the back of it, laughing to myself and, for the first time in a long time, genuinely having no idea what the hell is going to happen.

CHAPTER THREE

NOLAN

One button or two, I consider, fingers hovering around the neck of my shirt.

The reflection in the mirror doesn’t answer back, thank Christ.

It’s been a while since I went on an actual date. Usually the King name alone is enough to seal the deal, so to speak, at least for the others. I prefer a slower approach. Or at least I did before Linnea came along and basically took over my brain.

It’s incredible how much she’s been on my mind today. The sex was amazing, but that’s not what I return to. In truth, I don’t know whether to feel intrigued by her or scared shitless. She’s overwhelming, but I can’t decide if that’s good or bad. If nothing else, she’s determined as hell. That is a trait I can respond to.

I still expect Titus to suddenly crash into the room and tackle me, a blow-up doll