Page 36 of The Sin Bin

"Not even close," Lauren assured him, surprising herself with how much she meant it. "I'm having a good time. A really good time."

Something in his expression softened. "Me too."

As the song shifted to something slower, more intimate, Jax's hand at her back drew her slightly closer, not presuming but offering. Lauren accepted the invitation, reducing the space between them until she could feel the solid warmth of his chest against hers. The scent of his cologne mingled with the underlying note that was uniquely him—clean sweat, faded deodorant, the indefinable scent of his skin.

"Lauren," he began, his voice pitched low enough that she felt it as much as heard it.

"Yes?" she prompted when he didn't continue.

"I'm glad you're here," he said finally. "Not just tonight. These past three weeks... having you at games, helping with Penalty... it's been good. Better than good."

The simple honesty of the statement touched her more deeply than an elaborate declaration might have. "For me too," she admitted, finding it easier to speak such truths in the intimate space they'd created, bodies swaying gently to the music.

"I know this is complicated," Jax continued, his dark eyes serious. "My schedule, the media attention, the travel... it's not easy."

"Nothing worthwhile ever is," Lauren replied, the words emerging before she could second-guess them.

His hand tightened fractionally at her waist. "Is that what this is? Worthwhile?"

The vulnerability in the question caught her off guard. This man who commanded respect on the ice, who protected his teammates without hesitation, was asking her if she thought he was worth the complications.

Before she could answer, a commotion near the entrance drew their attention. A tall man in an expensive but slightly rumpled suit was arguing with security, his voice carrying even over the music. Lauren felt Jax stiffen beside her, his posture suddenly alert.

"Who's that?" she asked.

"Brady Wilson," Jax replied, his voice tight. "Philadelphia's resident dirtbag."

Lauren recognized the name immediately—the player who had injured Ethan, triggering Jax's viral fight. The player who had scored the winning goal against them in their last matchup.

"What's he doing here?" she asked.

"Good question." Jax's expression had hardened, the relaxed man she'd been dancing with replaced by the vigilant enforcer she'd first glimpsed on television.

Wilson spotted them across the room, his face splitting into a predatory grin. He said something to the security guard, who reluctantly stepped aside, allowing him to enter.

"Stay here," Jax murmured, moving to intercept Wilson before he could reach the main area of the party.

Lauren watched as the two men met halfway across the room, Wilson's exaggerated swagger contrasting with Jax's controlled stillness. They were of similar height, but Wilson's leaner build made Jax appear even more imposing by comparison. Though they spoke too quietly for her to hear, the tension in their body language was unmistakable.

Kane and Marcus quickly joined them, positioning themselves on either side of Jax in a silent show of support. The quartet created a barrier between Wilson and the rest of the party, shielding the other guests from whatever confrontation was unfolding.

Lauren became aware of someone beside her. Oliver had appeared, his expression concerned as he watched the scene.

"What's happening?" she asked him.

"Wilson's drunk," Oliver replied grimly. "And he's not even supposed to be here. This is a Chill Foundation event."

"Then why is he here?"

Oliver's eyes flicked to her, then back to the confrontation. "To cause trouble. To get under Jax's skin. In the league, there's nothing better than making the other team's enforcer lose his cool off the ice. Career-ending stuff."

Lauren's stomach tightened with dread. "Will he?"

"Lose his cool?" Oliver shook his head. "No." But something in his tone suggested less certainty than his words.

Across the room, Wilson's posture had grown more aggressive, one finger jabbing toward Jax's chest as he spoke. Jax remained perfectly still, not retreating but not engaging either, his restraint visible even from a distance.

After what felt like an eternity but was probably less than a minute, security reappeared, this time with hotel management in tow. Wilson was escorted out, though not before throwing one last comment over his shoulder that made Kane physically restrain Jax with a hand on his arm.

---