Playing for Keeps (Hot Jocks, #1)

by Kendall Ryan

His scent hasn’t changed in all the years I’ve known him. The smell is a combination of an understanding boyfriend, clean cotton, and a bar of soap. It’s fucking amazing, and I’m in his personal space alone, so I inhale more of it than I should.

He tastes like lemons, and vodka, and every sinful pleasure imaginable, and dear God, I don’t ever want to stop kissing him.

But the heart wants what it wants, and mine stupidly still wants him.

Oh my fuck. I can’t with this girl.