Chapter 20
Justin POV
The light filtering through the casement window wasn't the harsh amber of the arena floods or the yellow glare of basement fluorescents.
It was a pale, blinding winter blue, bouncing off thirty inches of fresh Adirondack powder banked high against the glass. The gale had blown itself out over the lake hours ago, leaving the morning submerged in an eerie, absolute hush.
Eighty days remained until the ECAC Championship in Lake Placid.
I woke without the violent jolt of adrenaline that had ripped me from sleep every morning for five years.
My jaw wasn't clamped shut; my back teeth weren't grinding against each other; the dull ache in my masseter muscles had dissolved.
My resting pulse was a slow, heavy thud against my ribs, steady as a pendulum.
The silence inside my chest felt unnatural, vast and quiet as the snow outside.
Then I felt the warmth against my left side.
Penny was curled flush against my torso, her head pillowed on the meat of my shoulder, her face turned toward my neck. One of her slender arms was draped across my chest, her hand resting flat over my sternum, her fingers relaxed and open.
Her dark curls were a wild, unruly tangle against the charcoal linen pillowcase, a few loose strands catching the pale blue light. The heavy quilt had slipped down during the night, pooling at her waist, leaving the smooth, honey-warm expanse of her back bare to the room's cool air.
My right arm was pinned beneath her, but the AC joint didn't scream. The ligament was loose, resting without the vicious inflammatory pinch that had locked my arm to my flank three weeks ago.
I didn't move. I barely let my lungs expand, terrified that a deep breath would shatter the fragile stillness of the room.
I looked down at the soft curve of her cheek, at the dark fan of her eyelashes resting against her skin. Faint, reddish marks bloomed across the pale line of her collarbone—marks my own mouth had left in the dark when my control had given out.
The memory of her voice—broken, breathless, calling my name as she came apart beneath my hips—flooded my bloodstream with a heavy, scalding warmth.
She had given me everything. Her pride, her defenses, her untouched body. She had stood in my dark and pulled the pins from my armor until there was nothing left to hide behind.
I lifted my left hand, my fingers moving with slow, reverent care as the pad of my calloused thumb brushed a stray curl from her temple.
Her skin was scalding soft, radiating a deep morning heat that sank straight into my bones.
* * *
Her eyelashes fluttered.
A tiny, sleepy sigh hitched in her throat, her lips parting as she shifted against my side. Her hand on my sternum moved, her fingers curling slightly, her nails lightly scraping over the scar tissue above my ribs.
She blinked twice, her hazel eyes cloudy with sleep, adjusting to the cool glare of the window.
When her gaze focused on my face, she froze.
The morning awareness hit her all at once. I watched the realization flood her face—the memories of the storm, the clothes on the floor, the heavy linen sheets tangled around our bare legs.
A dusky rose flush bloomed instantly beneath her skin, spreading down her neck to stain the hollow of her throat. She bit her lower lip, her jaw tightening as if she were searching for the sharp, defensive clinician who had spent a month shouting at me about goniometers.
She didn't find her.
Instead of pulling away, Penny let out a long, shuddering exhale and buried her face into the warm crook of my neck, hiding her flushed cheeks against my collarbone.
A low, gravelly chuckle rumbled in my chest, vibrating against her cheek.
"Morning, sweetheart," I rasped, my voice thick with sleep.
"Don't look at me," she mumbled into my skin, her voice muffled, her hand tightening in the dark hair on my chest. "The sun is too bright."
"I'm looking," I rumbled, turning my head to press a slow, lingering kiss to the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of almond soap and warm skin. "I'm going to look at you all damn day."
I shifted my weight, rolling slightly onto my side to face her. I gathered the charcoal quilt with my left hand, hauling the thick wool up over her bare shoulders, tucking the fabric securely around her back to shield her from the bedroom draft.
My palm slid down beneath the blanket, finding the curve of her hip. My fingers spread wide, resting heavily on her waist, pulling her flush against my body until her thighs rested between mine.
Penny shivered at the contact, her head lifting from my shoulder.
Her hazel eyes were wide, the gold flecks bright in the morning light, searching my face with an unvarnished vulnerability that made my chest ache with a fierce, possessive gravity.
"Justin," she whispered, her fingers coming up to touch the rough stubble along my jawline, tracing the hard cut of my chin. "We really did that."
"We did," I murmured, leaning down until my lips were hovering inches from hers.
"We broke every single rule."
"The rules were garbage, Penny."
My mouth settled over hers, unhurried, warm, and lazy.
There was no desperation this morning, no storm driving us to the brink. It was a slow, thorough claiming—the taste of her waking mouth, the soft friction of her lips parting beneath mine, the sweet, heavy sigh she surrendered into the kiss as her arms looped around my neck.
Her body molded to mine under the quilt, her hips shifting with a quiet, natural friction that sent a surge of heat straight down my spine.
I kissed the corner of her mouth, then dragged my lips down the heated line of her jaw to the sensitive spot below her ear, my stubble rasping over her skin until her breath turned ragged and shallow.
"Good girl," I murmured against her neck, the praise rolling out of me on instinct.
Penny arched slightly into my mouth, her fingers tangling in the hair at my nape, a soft, helpless sound catching in her throat.
The heat between us began to build again, heavy and persistent, demanding a second surrender before the world outside could wake up.
* * *
A distant, metallic grinding sound echoed through the casement glass, cutting cleanly through the quiet.
A municipal plow was scraping down Cumberland Avenue, the heavy diesel engine groaning as it cleared the drifts from the main artery.
Penny’s body stiffened beneath the quilt.
The kiss slowed, then broke. She rested her forehead against my chest, her breathing shallow, listening to the sound of the plow moving down the road.
The real world was digging itself out.
She propped herself up on her left elbow, the charcoal sheet gathered defensively over her breasts, her dark curls tumbling over her shoulders. The softness in her expression didn't vanish, but the sharp, analytical intellect returned to her eyes.
"The campus will open by noon," she said, her voice quiet, steady, and edged with cold reality. "Dr. Vance is going to check the lab logs. Coach Hauer will have practice rescheduled for four o'clock."
I pushed myself up against the dark wood headboard, the muscles in my shoulders bunching as I sat beside her, letting the cold air hit my bare chest.
"I know," I said.
Penny looked at our tangled legs beneath the linen, her fingers lightly spinning the silver ring on her left thumb.
"If Garrett Shaw sees us together... if he tells his father about what happened at the gala...
" She swallowed hard, her throat working on the dry knot of anxiety.
"Arthur Shaw won't let it go, Justin. He'll go to Dean Sterling with an ethics complaint.
If they open an investigation into medical staff fraternization, Vance pulls my fellowship nomination to protect the department. And your clearance gets flagged."
I reached out with my right hand, catching her wrist, stilling the nervous rotation of her ring.
I pulled her forward until she was seated in the crook of my arm, her back resting against my chest, my arms wrapping securely around her waist over the sheet.
"Listen to me, Penny," I rumbled, my voice dropping into that quiet, absolute register that left no room for doubt. "We play their game. When we're in the rink, we're Captain and Lead Researcher. You hold your clipboard. I do my reps. We give Shaw and Sterling zero ammunition to touch you."
Penny turned her head, looking up into my eyes. "And when we're not in the rink?"
I leaned down, my thumb catching the sharp angle of her chin, tilting her face until our eyes locked.
"When we're behind closed doors, you're mine," I rasped, each word deliberate and immovable as granite. "You sleep in this bed. You eat at my table. You don't take a single hit from this university alone ever again. We're an iron front, Penny. You and me."
Her hazel eyes searched mine, the lingering fear in her chest dissolving beneath the certainty in my voice.
She didn't argue. She didn't put up a single clinical wall.
She lifted her face and pressed her lips firmly against mine, sealing the pact between us in the pale blue light of the morning.
"An iron front," she whispered against my mouth.
I pulled her deeper into my arms, the heavy quilt bunched around our waists, holding her tight against my heart while the plows cleared the snow outside.
Act one was over. The walls were down.
We were stepping out onto thin ice together, but for the first time in five years, I knew exactly what I was fighting to protect.