Then I focus on the pertinent part: a rock. An anguished sound escapes me. I sway a little before blowing out a breath. “Who?”
Because I’m going to— I suck in a calming breath before I punch a wall.
Woodenly, Pen shakes her head. “I don’t know. It was on campus. I didn’t see. I was walking to my bike and it just...” She swallows with a clicking sound. It’s too much.
Cursing softly, I gather her up and sit on the bed, gently settling her on my lap. I kiss her damp cheeks, her swollen mouth, and smooth back her mussed hair. “Baby. I’m so sorry.”
She nods as if by rote. I can’t stand it. She shouldn’t be hurt. Ever. And I wasn’t there to protect her. With a grunt, I rest my head against hers.
Pen sets her hand over mine and clutches it. “There’s more.”
“More?” Dread returns full force. The way she looks at me, as though trying to defuse a bomb. My free hand trembles as I brush her hair back and try my best to look calm and reassuring. “Tell me, honey. Just get it out.”
Pen lowers her gaze to our hands. And tells me about her bike. I listen quietly, while the blood drains from my head and my heart slams against my chest.
She was attacked. Because of me.
“August?” Cool hands touch my hot face. “Baby?”
I don’t... I can’t... A lump rises in my throat. With a strangled breath, I lean my forehead against hers.
“Pen . . .” It comes out thready.
“I didn’t want to tell you,” she whispers, stroking my temple. “I didn’t want to see that look on your face.”
“It’s my fault,” I rasp. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Stop.” She presses her palms to my cheeks, making me meether eyes. They’re clear now, determined. “I knew you’d blame yourself, and I don’t want you to carry this burden.”
“It’s my burden to carry. If it wasn’t for being with me—”
“No. Not even a little. The blame lies on the grotty little shit, or shits, who did this. The cowardlyfuckoswho don’t have anything better to do than hurt other people. Not you. Never you.”
“Jesus, Pen. If they did this after one loss...” I feel sick just thinking about it. In that moment I hate the game, hate that my place in it put her in danger.
The tip of her finger skims along my jaw. “We don’t know if that’s why. It could be a fan of some other team or some bored loser.”
“The next one could be some sick fuck who hurts you to get to me.”
“I could walk outside and die a thousand different ways.”
“Christ. That’s not helping.”
“My point is that this—” she gestures between us “—is the only thing we can control. Right here and now. And I’d just really like it if you’d kiss me now, let me feel something good.”
“I can do that.” I find her rosy sweet mouth with mine. Pen kisses like a dream. Soft at first but then greedy like she just discovered chocolate and has to have more. It gets me every time. With an impatient noise, she lifts her sleep shirt overhead and tosses it aside.
In the low lamplight her skin glows like a pearl, the full teardrops of her breasts swaying as she moves. I think we’ll be eighty and the sight of her will still make me slack-jawed with base lust. Instantly, I fill my hands with them, loving their firm weight, the round softness. Those deep rose nipples stiffen, pointing up at me like a taunt.
Her skin is smooth silk under my lips. I glide along her neck, over her shoulders. Down to those perky little nipples begging for attention. I kiss each of them in turn, lovingly because they deserve it.
As much as I want to linger, I can’t get the sight of her injuryout of my mind. Gently, I turn her around. She hesitates for a second, clearly not wanting me to look there again. A soft kiss at the base of her neck has her relenting. She ducks her chin, arching the long line of her back against my mouth as I move my way down to the bruise.
It’s deep and splotchy, the colors of pain I’m familiar with. But not on her.
“Pen...” I kiss around the area as light as I can. “I hate this.”
She looks at me from over her shoulder. “I’m so pale, any bruise I get looks worse than it is.”
