Play the Game (Hannaford Prep, #3)

by J. Bree

He’s a cage fighter, a trained killer, his weapons of choice are his fists or a fucking meat cleaver, he shows no mercy and has no conscience, and, according to my crazy hot girlfriend, he’s a good guy. I think I’m going to have a fucking stroke.

“I’m keeping you forever. I don’t do this shit for anything but keeps.”

Harley scoffs and whispers in my ear, “Stop looking at her like you want to fuck her, you’ll give us all a complex.” I quirk an eyebrow at him. “If we both swung that way, we’d be fucking married by now. I would have wifed her ass last year.” He roars with laughter.

There is nothing quite as satisfying as watching you destroy the male population one by one.”

“What the fuck is a study of peas? They’re vegetables, they can’t go to fucking college!”

“I’m not angry, babe. I’m hungry. I’m fucking starving and you’re the only thing on the menu I want. One taste of what you’ve got and now I’m fucking addicted. Spread those legs for me.”

“No, I mean, do you seriously have the words ‘you’re welcome’ tattooed above your dick? I changed my mind, I’m not doing this.”

“You two flirt like fucking serial killers, it’s fucking hilarious.

“I guess I should remember that better than anyone. I was there when he snapped your leg with his bare hands. What were you, twelve years old?”

Something about me being an assassin and renowned killer has him freaked out. Who knew?

Beat him in his own game because Aves, he has no fucking clue who he’s really dealing with.” She smiles at me and hands me a towel. “None of these stupid boys do.”