Page 78 of Power Play

“At least they revamped it. Remember when the prize was an outing at a place of the highest bidder’s choosing? Now it’s a night in the arena with all the players, a nice dinner, and no opportunity for any extracurricular activities.”

“Still can’t believe that guy pinned Riley to the wall, licked his ear, asked if he could pee on him, then took his dick out before Riley could answer. I’m not one to kink-shame, but that kind of shit is vile without consent.”

“Almost as bad as the fan clubs at away games.” Hudson laughs. “Did you bring anyone tonight?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Right. Single Sullivan. Just the way you like it.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. Her name is Alyssa. I started seeing her a couple months ago, and things are going well. I like her a lot, man.”

Hudson is different from any other athlete I’ve met. He’s rarely aggressive on the ice, and that tenderheartedness you see when you interact with him is genuine.

He’s a nice fucking guy. A total empath, he loves things deeply: his dogs. His friends. His family back home in Georgia.

He’s also a hopeless romantic.

Has been from the day he first introduced himself to me. He believes in fairytales and happily ever afters. Love at first sight and all that other bullshit. A serious relationship-ist, he’s someone who dates with the purpose of having a future with a woman and has never had a one-night stand.

I think he’d pass out if someone slept with him and snuck out without contacting him again.

“Happy for you, Hud.”

“Thanks.” He points through the crowd. “There she is.”

I look in the general direction of where he’s gesturing. Before I can figure out if he’s talking about the brunette or the redheaded woman, a flash of blonde catches my eye. I turn my head half a degree to the right and there, directly across the ballroom, is Piper, looking right at me.

It’s the first time I’m seeing her tonight, and it’s a punch to the gut.

Her silver dress hugs her curves and her hair flows down her back like ribbons of sunshine. When she reaches to set her glass down on a server’s tray, my heart nearly skips a beat.

The back of the dress is even better than the front, complete with a low dip in the material that shows off so much fucking skin.

She’s beautiful.

Show-stopping, and I’m practically gawking.

My throat goes dry. When she smiles at me, big and bright and fucking devastatingly, I shove my straw in my mouth and take a long sip of my drink, wishing it were something stronger.

I’m not looking at her like she’s my friend.

I’m not looking at her as a man who has his priorities sorted out and isn’t interested in anything serious.

I’m looking at her like my heart is about to flatline. Like I’m close to meeting my end, and this is the first time in my life I’ve ever regretted being a professional athlete.

If I was a doctor or a teacher or fuckinganythingbesides a star goalie paid millions of dollars to be damn good at my job, I’d take her out on a date. I’d woo her and show her how a man should treat her inside and outside a bedroom.

But I’m not.

So I lift my hand in a pathetic wave instead. Her eyes bounce to the empty spot to my left and I nod, inviting her over.

“Hey.” Hudson nudges my side. I blink and snap out of my trance. “You okay?”

“Great,” I grunt. “I’m great.”

“I’m going to steal my date back. I’ll catch up with you later?”

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