Page 55 of Goalie's Obsession

Her laugh is quiet, but real. She sets the glass down and glances toward the bed.

“So… You gonna make a joke about us sharing that?”

I shake my head. “Nah.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“I figure you’ll stab me if I try. You’ve threatened to kill me at least three times since we left Iron Ridge.”

“True.”

“But also…” I trail off, watching her. “You looked like you needed a minute. I wanted to give you one.”

Something shifts in her expression. Something soft and unguarded and then she lowers her eyes as she steps closer.

One, two, three careful,slowsteps across the rug. I take a deep breath, feeling my heart in my chest when she’s standing right in front of me. Her arms lift, then slide slowly around my neck pulling me into her.

I blink.

“Uh, hi?” I say softly.

She doesn’t answer.

Instead, she rises onto her toes and kisses me.

It’s not rushed. Not frantic.

It’s slow. Sure. Intentional.

Her lips part like she’s giving me a second chance to get this right. Like maybe, for once, she’s not trying to fight it.

When she pulls back, my hands are still hovering near her waist, unsure if I’m allowed to touch her now that everything feels… different.

“What’s wrong, Walsh?” she whispers beneath a smirk. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I stare down at her, pulse doing dangerous things.

“What was that for?”

She taps my chest and grins. “For not making a joke about the bed.”

Then she turns, grabs her espresso martini, and strolls toward the balcony.

And me?

I’m left standing there, grinning like a fucking idiot.

Because that kiss?

That was not part of the game.

Chapter Twelve

Lucy

Istareatmyreflection in the mirror, barely recognizing myself.

The hotel bathroom is bathed in warm light so flattering it should probably come with a warning label. My skin glows. My eyes are popping. My lips are glossy, stained dark red, like they belong to someone who eats men for breakfast.

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