Hate is a gentle word. Eternal loathing is more accurate. Pro hockey player with a filthy reputation and an even filthier mouth? That’s Tristan Stiles, also known as my brother’s best friend and my ungodly hot new roommate.
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I thought it would be fine, just a quick stay after I rage quit my job while I look for a new place.
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I was wrong. It’s not fine. We fight. We bicker. We taunt each other like it’s a brutal Olympic sport.
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Tristan never wears a shirt and looks like my every sexy nightmare come to life, complete with perfect abs.
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He was my secret crush growing up, but I’m not the little kid wishing for his attention anymore.
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If we can’t keep our clothes on, we’ll both go down in flames. I’m addicted to how he makes my body feel. I can’t stop falling into his bed.
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That line between hate and love? It’s looking pretty thin.
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Now I’m wondering how either of us will walk away unscathed.