Page 46 of One Night Puck (Las Vegas Angels 3)

Christ.

Even after a night of partying, she’d looked gorgeous.

And once she’d put a veil on—and held the bouquet of roses?

I was a goner.

Pure and simply gone.

Just like now as I held her in my arms.

I’d love to lean down and kiss her.

The song still played, and I had to admit—the lyrics hit a bit closer to home than they normally did.

I was thirty-three years old.

In a sport that valued youth.

Thirty-three in hockey years equaled about eighty-three in human years.

And, just like the song, I had more than a bit of dust on my bottle.

I felt it every day.

Especially in the mornings.

Fuck me but was it ever hard to get going.

Everything in my body protested the second I woke up.

Lately, since the accident, it had been a thousand times worse.

If it weren’t for the pain pills, I probably wouldn’t get out of bed until noon.

So, yeah, I was aging rapidly in a career that added more and more younger guys to the pool every day.

We danced for a few more songs—Lexi smiling up at me, making me forget every ache and pain.

For now, anyway.

That coconut scent of hers floated into my senses, and I swear it made me dizzy.

A thought popped into my head, and I rolled with it. “Kiss me,” I whispered into her ear. She leaned back and narrowed her eyes on me.

I chuckled, and whispered again, “For the cameras.”

“Oh,” she said, forming the cutest ‘O’ shape with her lips.

Right before I kissed her.

Bubble gum.

I loved how this woman tasted.

Lexi kissed me back and pressed her sweet, soft body to mine.

“That’s quite a kiss,” she said as I was still taking full advantage of the situation.

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