Page 31 of Penalty for Boarding

Taking a deep breath, I touch the sapphire pendant Calvin gave me this morning—something blue to match my engagement ring. Blue, like my eyes and the Nighthawks' colors, he'd said. A reminder that choosing each other was destiny.

With one final glance in the mirror, I open the bathroom door. Calvin stands by the window, still in his tuxedo pants with his bow tie hanging loose around his neck. He turns at the sound of the door, and the look in his eyes makes my heart skip.

“Hi, husband,” I whisper.

“Hi, wife.” He crosses the room in three long strides, pulling me into his arms, his lips brushing against my ear. “You look incredible.”

“Do you like it?” I ask, already knowing the answer but craving his validation and praise.

“I love it,” he says, his hands roaming my back, my hips. “But I love you—and what’s underneath this silk—more.”

I giggle, but then he’s kissing me, slow and deep, and I don’t feel like laughing anymore. I melt into him, his mouth, his embrace. This man, this beautiful, passionate man who had once been a stranger, is now my everything. My heart swells with a love so deep it almost hurts.

When we finally break apart, I'm breathless, my skin tingling where his hands have traced. He takes a step back, his eyes never leaving mine, and reaches for a bottle of champagne that sits chilling in a silver bucket by the nightstand.

“Let's make a toast,” he says, his voice rough with emotion and need. He pops the cork with a practiced ease, and it flies across the room with a soft thud. Foam spills over the lip of the bottle before he pours it into two flutes, the bubbles dancing in the crystal.

I take the glass he offers me, and we touch them together with a delicate clink. “To forever,” I say, my voice a whisper, fragile as glass.

“To forever,” Calvin echoes, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. I can’t believe we’re finally married.

These past eighteen months have been a whirlwind of professional triumphs neither of us expected when we first chose each other over our careers. Calvin has been playing the best hockey of his life, his performance so outstanding that talks of retirement have transformed into speculation about whether he'll break the record for oldest active player in the NHL. The combination of my specialized training programs and his renewed passion for the game has revolutionized how teams approach player longevity. Meanwhile, my research on injury prevention and recovery techniques has been published in several prestigious sports medicine journals, and I've been invited to speak at international conferences—opportunities I never would have had if I'd stayed in my comfortable position with the Fury. Together, we've built something bigger than ourselves, proving that sometimes the scariest choices lead to the most beautiful outcomes. And now, standing here as husband and wife, we're ready to write the next chapter of our story.

We sip the champagne, the effervescence tickling my nose and adding to the giddy swirl of emotions inside me. Calvin sets his glass down and takes mine from my hand, placing it carefully on the nightstand. His eyes rake over my body, drinking in every detail.

“That lingerie set really is stunning, Liv. Seems a shame I’m going to have to leave it ruined on the bedroom floor.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “Who says you have to ruin it?”

Calvin raises an eyebrow, his hands already reaching for me. “Are you suggestin’ I need more restraint?”

“I'm suggesting you savor it,” I say, my voice low and teasing. “Savor me.”

He chuckles, a deep, warm sound that sends a flush through my entire body. “As you wish, my wife.”

With a tenderness that makes my heart ache, he traces the outline of the lace with his fingertips, not rushing, just exploring. His touch is light, almost reverent.

I close my eyes, losing myself in the sensation of Calvin's touch. His fingers trail up my sides, over my ribs, ghosting the sides of my breasts, making me shiver. When his thumbs graze my nipples through the delicate fabric, they pebble instantly, aching for more contact.

“Calvin,” I breathe. “Please.”

He leans down, his lips replacing his fingers as he traces the scalloped edge of the lace with his tongue. My hands fly to his hair, threading through the short strands as I hold him close. He lavishes attention on one breast, then the other, sucking and nipping until I'm panting, my hips rocking against him in search of friction.

“I thought you wanted me to savor you,” he murmurs against my heated skin, his stubble rasping deliciously against my sensitized flesh.

“I do,” I gasp, as his teeth graze my nipple through the fabric. “But I also really, really want you to touch me.”

I can feel his smile against my breast before he pulls back, his eyes darkened with desire. “Well, since you asked so nicely...”

His hands slide down my body, mapping my curves until they reach the hem of the panties. He hooks his fingers in the sides, slowly dragging them down my legs and helping me step out of them. I'm left in just the bra.

Calvin takes a step back, his gaze raking over me. “Absolutely stunning. I’m the luckiest man alive.”

Before I can respond, he's on his knees, urging me to perch on the edge of the bed. He gently parts my thighs, settling between them like he belongs there. And god, does he ever.

“I plan to savor every single inch of you, Mrs. Barrett,” he says, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh that makes me tremble. “Starting right here.”

And then his mouth is on me, his tongue parting my folds and finding my most sensitive spot with unerring accuracy. I cry out, my head falling back as pleasure sparks through my veins. He takes his time, learning my body all over again, stoking the fire building low in my belly with every stroke of his tongue, every press of his lips.

---