 by Jennifer Sucevic.jpg)
Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
That was my first mistake. I've never been able to resist a dare and he damn well knows it. Trust me, I realize it's a personal flaw I need to work on.
My second mistake?
If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say it was when I agreed to a frenemies-with-benefits situation in order to get him out of my system once and for all.
The third one, just in case you're wondering, was in thinking this wouldn't explode in my face if I came up with a list of rules for us to follow.
1- This is in no way a relationship. It's strictly dickly.
2- No sleeping with other people while knocking boots.
3- Our situationship stays on the downlow
But then he tacked on one of his own- no getting myself off unless it's in front of him.
Oh...did I forget to mention that the guy in question is Ford Hamilton, my ex-stepbrother? The very same one who may or may not remain an ex for long.
There's only one thing left to say...
FML.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
Carina
“What the fuck are you doing here, Fischer?” a deep voice barks from behind us.
There’s no need to turn.
I know exactly who I’ll find.
It’s like I have a sixth sense where Ford Hamilton is concerned. And I absolutely hate it. If there were a way to douse the flames that spark to life whenever he’s in the vicinity, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
Maybe what’s needed is some voodoo. Or an exorcism. Something that will eradicate him from my thoughts once and for all.
An aggravated sigh escapes from me. I knew that inviting Justin to this party was a mistake. It was more of an accident. We ran into each other at the Union a couple days ago and he asked if I wanted to get together. When I mentioned the party, he offered to pick me up and voilà—here we are.
Justin’s jaw stiffens as he straightens to his full height, which is still a handful of inches shorter than my ex-stepbrother. It would be impossible not to compare the two guys when they’re squaring off. Justin is a baseball player and has a leaner build. Ford plays hockey. He’s chiseled and muscular. The way his biceps bulge…
It takes effort to suppress the little shiver that attempts to dance down my spine.
Don’t even go there, Carina. That’s exactly how you get yourself in trouble.
Every.
Single.
Time.
“I was invited.”
Ford glares at the other guy as he folds his arms across his chest. The movement makes his body look even broader. It’s enough to make my mouth turn cottony.
“Who the hell by?”
A well-known fact I should have taken into consideration is that hockey and baseball players mix about as well as oil and water. None of the athletic teams at Western really get along. Inevitably, everything devolves into a pissing match.
Trust me, it gets old fast.
It crossed my mind as I walked through the door five minutes ago with Justin in tow that this probably wasn’t the smartest idea. But by then, it was much too late to do anything about it. I’d hoped to avoid Ford for the night, but clearly that plan has backfired.
By the pissed-off expression darkening his face, I’d say it’s backfired spectacularly.
Clearly trying to get under Ford’s skin, Justin snakes an arm around me before flashing a smug smile. “Carina did.”
Ford’s lips peel back into a snarl before he pierces me with a steely look. If I weren’t made of such stern stuff, I’d be shaking in my Jimmy Choos. Voice turning frigid, he says, “This isn’t her party. Maybe you should do us all a favor and take off.”
Justin turns his head just enough to brush his lips across the side of my face. It’s like he’s trying to poke the bear. “Nah. Don’t think I will.”
The party is jampacked with people as the heavy beat of music reverberates off the walls of the house. With every second that ticks by, tension ratchets up until it turns suffocating.
My muscles tighten, anticipating that a fight will erupt any moment. That’s pretty much standard operating procedure at a hockey party. Hell, it would be odd if it didn’t happen.
Ford’s eyes darken as his expression turns thunderous. Just when it seems like he’ll totally lose his shit and throw the first punch, his gaze slices to mine and he grits out, “Can I talk to you outside?”
Heat stings my cheeks as people swivel their heads in our direction, trying to figure out what’s going on. Even though fights break out regularly, no one wants to miss having a front-row seat.
I scowl, silently willing him to let this go. “Is that really necessary?”
“Yeah, it is.” His gaze stays locked on mine as he jerks his head toward the back door. “Let’s go.”