Page 73 of Goalie's Obsession

I break the kiss, pressing my forehead to hers, breath ragged as hell, heart slamming against my ribs like it’s trying to throw itself at her feet.

Her lashes flutter as she exhales, eyes locked on mine, pupils wide and wrecked with want.

I swipe my thumb across her lower lip, watching it bounce back soft and pink. “Come with me.”

She doesn’t ask where. She just nods, voice barely a breath.

“Lead the way, Walsh.”

We barely make it to the elevator without mauling each other again.

Racing down from the rooftop, I’ve got Lucy pressed against the wall before the doors have even fully opened, her fingers tangled in my shirt like she owns me.

Which—after tonight—she might.

Her laugh is breathless, head tipped back as I nuzzle her neck. “People are going to think I’m easy.”

I growl against her throat. “No one thinks that. They think I’mlucky.”

She snorts, shoving me off just enough to escape my grip and stumble into the hallway. “Youarelucky. You got the fifty-thousand-dollar date.”

“Correction,” I say, catching up to her with three lazy strides. “Yougot the date. I’m the prize, remember?”

“Oh right.” She pauses, dramatically looking me up and down. “You’re the ‘stroking sausage’ entrée.”

I throw my head back with laughter as we reach the door of our suite. I tap the card and the door clicks open. I stand back and watch as Lucy’s brows knit together at the sight before us.

The lights are dimmed. Dozens of candles flicker along every surface. Rose petals—where the hell did Tino get rose petals—are scattered across the bed, and soft music hums from the speakers.

There’s champagne chilling on the table, next to two crystal flutes and a tray of chocolate-covered almonds, a special express delivery flown in from Summit Café in Iron Ridge.

Lucy takes one step inside and freezes. “Wait. None of this was here when I left.”

I close the door behind her and toss the keycard onto the table.

“I might’ve had help,” I admit, stepping up behind her, hands sliding around her waist.

She turns in my arms, eyes wide and lips parted. “Connor…”

I don’t let her finish.

I kiss her like it’s already morning and I’ve waited one entire night to taste her again.

My hands grip her hips, guiding her backwards until her knees bump the edge of the bed. She sinks onto it, breath catching as I kneel in front of her, slowly, reverently, like I’m about to take communion and she’s the fucking altar.

“Lie back for me,” I murmur, sliding her heels off one at a time. “I'm fucking done waiting for you. Relax… I want to remember every second of this.”

Her voice is thick. "Why?”

I meet her gaze, my heart thudding like a war drum.

“Because I already know…” I drag my mouth along the inside of her thigh, just to hear the way she gasps. “Nothing in my life will ever come close to this again.”

She reaches for me, eyes glassy, lips trembling with need. I crawl up the bed, covering her body with mine, and this, right here…

This is the beginning of the end.

Because once I have her?

---