My love for Grayson is the biological equivalent of a cockroach. It really doesn’t matter what you do to it—it’s going to survive.

when she’s within arm’s reach, she needs to be in my arms.

It’s not too cold for shorts, which we’re all wearing, but it’s that perfect combination of chilliness and summer. Hoodie and beer weather. Like fall, except warmer and with a later sunset. Best damn time of the year.

I need to see this woman more than once a month. Really, I need to see her daily, and sometimes hourly, but I can settle for slightly less.

I’ve been getting to work late.” “You own your own business.” “Even so, my boss is a bitch.”

In this moment, I want her as my warrior princess. Building empires and taking names.

I’m almost to the door when he barks out, “Hazel.” I pause, my hand on the doorknob. “What?” “Am I really wrong about this?” There’s something in his gaze right now that splits me in two. Suddenly, this isn’t part of our competition. This is Grayson, confused and worried, asking me a real question.

“Oh, was my magic pussy the motivation behind you getting furniture?” He scoffs but doesn’t correct me. “I’ll have to remember to put that in my dating profile. Sex so good you’ll furnish a house you don’t live in.”

Hell, the memory of my fingers buried in that juicy pussy might haunt me for the rest of my life.