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About the last thing Vincent Wade expected was for Carson Cress to ask him out. Vince is a dedicated biology student and a bit of a loner. Superstar quarterback Carson is larger than life, and he lives under a public microscope. There’s no way they should work. But Vince is learning that sometimes people just come steamrolling into your life and all you can do is hang on for the ride or lose your heart in the process. If their relationship can survive the fallout when an injury derails Carson’s future plans, maybe Vince can finally find something to believe in.
the jock yelled. I turned to look at him. “You’re wasting time here when other people are gonna hop in line in front of you at the other location. You need to go there.” “I need this done!” “Here you go,” Lucy said from beside me, sliding me the proof for my nice doggie-lady customer. “Listen—” “Wait, just wait,” another voice said. I turned, and beside the jock was now a leaner one, an athlete too, I was betting, but built more like a swimmer than the defensive lineman his friend so
over for small get-togethers, and I would cook. We had a fantastic division of labor: he got what I told him to, and I prepared everything. When I walked into his kitchen that afternoon, both of us schlepping in bags of groceries, I was surprised to turn and see him looking at me oddly. “What’s wrong?” “I thought you were thinking of bailing on me.” “I’m sorry about that. I just forgot.” “Am I cockblocking you with this party?” “No.” I chuckled. “You’re fine. And it’s your birthday anyway,
condom now,” I demanded. But he was gone, checked out, not listening to me, instead rolling me over on my stomach, rough with me as he yanked me to my hands and knees, his callused hands smoothing over my ass before parting my cheeks. I was shaking and I knew it. “Carson, what are you—” “Shut up,” he growled before he licked over my puckered hole and I screamed. No one I had ever been in bed with had rimmed me. It was hot… and it felt… his tongue pushed inside me, his stubble scratched
posters?” Pretty Boy demanded. “Again, there’s only one oversize machine,” Lucy told him. “And it’s running until we close. It’s going as fast as it can, but we won’t be able to get yours out tonight. So, as Vince said, as I said, as Scott said… you need to go to the university store.” “Here, boss.” Mike yawned, coming up beside me and passing me the double-sided flyer on carnation-pink paper. “This looks good, huh?” I asked Mrs. Baker. “I love it.” She smiled at me. “You’ve been such a
knew you were gonna forgive him,” Tracie, the only woman in the group, threw back. “Why?” “’Cause you guys are family.” She beamed at me over her shoulder. “You’re like brothers. You have to forgive your brother.” And she was right. At the diner I liked where they served the cinnamon roll French toast, they sat us outside on the patio, which was nice because it overlooked an old cobblestone street that had rows of small shops on one side and the grassy quad on the other. The street had been