Page 93 of Goalie's Obsession

I smirk and lean in so close I get a strong whiff of her vanilla scent. “Go on.”

"Okay. The game is calledGuess the Gala Guest.” She nods toward a guy across the room in a velvet tux and bedazzled boots. “So you see that guy? He's definitely an ex-Disney star turned crypto bro.”

I chuckle, sip my champagne. “Five bucks says the guy next to him used to eat bugs on YouTube for views.”

Lucy grins and grips my thigh with a beaming smile. "Yes! You get it. Okay."

She scans the room again, then subtly gestures with her champagne flute. “Alright. The woman by the bar with the platinum bob and skin-tight latex dress? Former Real Housewife turned tantric sex coach.”

I choke on a laugh. “That’s oddly specific.”

“Trust me. I can feel the crystals in her clutch from here.”

I lean closer, eyes narrowed.

“Okay, my turn.” I nod toward a blond-tipped tuxedoed guy standing stiffly near the dessert station. “That dude? Used to be an Olympic figure skater, now runs a tech startup that sells smart mirrors. Also cries during Pixar movies.”

“Connor,” she gasps, giggling. “That’s disturbingly accurate.”

“I pride myself on my observational skills.”

We both laugh as the sound of clinking glasses and camera shutters hums around us. The world blurs, a bubble forming around just the two of us.

And holy fuck.

I’ve never wanted to live in a moment more than this one.

My girl is radiant in that dress. My skin is still tingling from where she grabbed my leg, the warmth of her laughter on my neck still lingering like a slow-burn temptation I can't resist.

It's crazy.

I'm at this event that, as a kid, I would have killed to be at. But now, I’m not even thinking about hockey, or cameras, or anything else.

Because I'm with her.

It’s all her. All the time.

I’m at some glitzy NHL gala surrounded by all-stars and billionaires, and somehow the best part of the night is just... this. Her laugh. Her eyes. The way she makes everything feel like it was meant to be.

Goddamn, this might actually be the best night of my life.

The lights dim just enough to soften the sharp edges of the gala, and a slow song starts to pour through the speakers. Something sultry and old-school with a beat that sinks into your bones.

Across the table, Lucy glances toward the dance floor, then back at me.

I roll my eyes, rise from the table with a grunt and hold out my hand. “Fine. Dance with me?”

She hesitates for half a second, picking up on my less-than-thrilled-about-this vibe.

“Connor… You don't have—”

“Come on.” I tilt my head, coaxing. “Let me show you off. I did pay for that dress, so there's no point in hiding it from the world.”

Her fingers slip into mine, and I swear the whole damn room disappears.

I guide her out, winding through the crowd until we find a space just off-center on the floor. She steps into me slowly, her arms sliding around my neck like it’s the most natural thing in the world. My hands find her waist, then her hips, pulling her close.

Closer than close.

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