Page 62 of Goalie's Obsession

The words hit different. Like a puck straight to the chest that knocks the wind right out of me.

Fuck.

I can see it. All of it. Clear as the California sky above us.

Little dark-haired kids with Lucy's smile and my height, stumbling around on skates while she films it for her social media. Teaching them how to hold a stick, Lucy yelling from the stands during their first game with Blake's Youth Team.

The image burns bright and sharp behind my eyes. So vivid it scares the shit out of me.

I've never wanted that before. Never even considered it. My whole life has been about the next save, the next game, the next win.

But right now, with her wrapped around me and the sun painting gold across the surface of the Pacific, I want it so bad it makes my teeth ache.

"Connor?" Her voice breaks through my thoughts. "You okay there? You went somewhere else for a minute."

I tighten my grip on her waist, pulling her closer in the water. "Yeah. Just thinking about how good you'd look in a Walsh jersey."

She rolls her eyes, but there’s color blooming on her cheeks. “You’re such an ass.”

She splashes water at my face, but doesn’t let go.

The water reaches my chest now, and Lucy's pressed against me, all curves and smooth skin. Her bikini top is getting soaked, the pink fabric clinging to her chest.

I adjust my grip, sliding one hand up her back. "Yeah, but you like it."

We drift further, the shoreline pulling away behind her. The cabanas blur into soft shapes and distant laughter as the water laps around us—sunlight splintering across the surface, the breeze thick with salt and heat.

I adjust my grip, sliding one hand up her spine and into the damp strands of her hair.

“Yeah, but you like it,” I murmur, voice lower now.

Another wave lifts us slightly. Lucy gasps and clings to me, her nails scraping gently down my back.

“The water’s freezing,” she whispers.

The water laps around us as Lucy shifts in my arms, her thighs tightening around my waist. I swear, she’s not even trying to drive me insane… but I’m already there.

Salt clings to her skin, the slick press of her curves against my chest absolutely obliterating my last shred of composure.

She leans in, brushing her lips near my jaw. “You’ve been weird since last night.”

I keep my hands on her waist, just barely. “Weird how?”

“I don’t know…” She trails her fingers down my biceps, slow and teasing, her voice thick with amusement. “You haven’t made a single joke about the bed this morning. Didn’t even mention the fact that drooled on your pecs.”

“Youdefinitelydid drool a lot,” I mutter, jaw tightening.

She grins. “So why so serious, goalie boy?”

I exhale, my hands sliding lower on her hips. “You really want to know?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

My fingers flex. “Because, when I was with my sisters last night, you looked at me last night like you meant it. Like none of this is pretend anymore.”

She’s quiet for a beat. Then her mouth curves into something dangerous.

“Maybe it’s not.”

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