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Onyx black, with almost no distinction between the iris and the pupil. It’s like staring into the inkiest lagoon—one that’s all but guaranteed to be hiding a monster.
My eyes flit between the four men: The dark, scowling asshole. The iPad-wielding nerd. The huge, tatted emo boy. The gruff, gorgeous jock.
I may be focused on her phone, but that doesn’t prevent me from sensing him the moment he enters the room.
But if the rumors are true about Nicholas Lockewood”—she waggles her brows—“you’re gonna need more than thirty minutes.”
Victim. I hate that fucking word. I swore to myself I’d never be a victim again. So I won’t. But they don’t know that yet.
“Oh, but I can. I protect what’s mine. And as of tonight, you’re a liability. I don’t believe a word you’ve said, Josephine Meyer.”
“To be kidnapped with nothing more than the clothes on their back and forced to live with four men they barely know?”
have the undivided attention of half the Lake Chapel U offensive line.”
“The season is just starting, Jo. It’s up to you whether the next fourteen plus weeks are miserable or enjoyable.”
“We need to talk about travel and sleeping arrangements for the game.”
The one single king-size bed.
Why the hell is there only one bed?
“You. Are. Infuriating,” he snarls. “Everything you do is designed specifically to piss me off. I do not have the strength to fight you day in and day out. Stop testing me, Josephine.”
Can’t say it doesn’t irk me every time I see my best friend’s name across her back.
There’s no way I can let her go.
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I wanted you to myself tonight?” Shit on a crumbly cracker.
“Where the fuck’s my girl?”
AHHHH
