Prologue

prologue

Harper

Moving day was a furnace, with the kind of heat that made the air shimmer and turned every breath into an effort. With the apartment door propped open for the movers, the air conditioning didn't stand a chance against the inferno outside. Thick humidity drained my energy, forcing me to take breaks just to figure out where the hell everything should go. I hadn't paid for the unpacking service, so after a hellish few hours, the movers left me alone in my new place—a suffocating mess of cardboard boxes and furniture stuck anywhere there was a sliver of floor space.

When eleven of my new Buffalo Warriors teammates decided to throw me a welcome bash at a downtown bar, I was relieved to take a cool shower and get out of the apartment. The bar was packed, and we crammed around a table meant for eight, enjoying frosty beers while the guys told stories making me laugh so hard my abs hurt. I'd been jittery about meeting them, but they put me at ease in no time. It was a miracle so many of them were in town. In the middle of the summer, I'd expected them to be holed up somewhere, squeezing everything they could out of their off-season freedom.

The music was deafening, and a guy with dark hair had to shout to be heard. "What do you think, Blanton? Are Buffalo women as hot as the ones in D.C.?"

"What the hell, Holcomb?" Gabe Donovan asked. "Why would you assume he's on your team?" Gabe, the Warriors' starting goalie, had organized our outing. Handsome and friendly, he was one of two openly gay players on the team. I'd make the third as soon as I came out, most likely at training camp.

"Look at his online profiles," Holcomb shot back. "Blanton's gone out with more hot women than you have boys."

Gabe shook his head. "Go to hell. I've never had a boyfriend under the age of twenty-one."

Bj?rk, the team's backup goalie, fixed Gabe in a contrived stare. "You must have a lead on dudes who are about to have their twenty-first birthdays, then."

Gabe laughed louder than anyone, and when the commotion settled, he flashed an amused smirk at the guys. "Fuck off. At least I can get a date, unlike most of you."

While they traded playful jabs, I mentally kicked myself for not locking down my social media profiles years ago. Most players did, but my agent had a brilliant strategy: keep everything open, let the fans see a bit of my life. It always bothered me, but I figured he knew what he was doing. The photos were all from college—years ago. Back then, I dated women, even though I'd always been interested in guys, too. Once I had my first sexual experience with a man, women fell off my radar. It wasn't a conscious decision; I just followed my dick and my heart.

My first relationship with a guy was a DL arrangement that lasted for eight months before I caught him cheating. Though I'd had my share of hookups and boyfriends since then, I didn't get serious again until my rookie year in D.C. I fell in love with a lawyer, and it was great—until I started talking about a future together. That's when he showed his true colors. He said he wasn't cut out to be monogamous, and that I was fun, hot as hell in bed, and "handsome enough to melt butter"—his stupid phrase, not mine. What I was not , he said, was a keeper.

A group of college-age women howled with laughter on the other side of the room, pulling me out of my thoughts. I stood and glanced at the boys. "I've got to take a leak."

"Need a hand?" Holcomb asked. "I'm sure there are plenty of young ladies here who'd be happy to assist."

Gabe came to my rescue. "I'm ordering another round. You in, Blanton?"

"Hell yeah. I'll have another IPA."

I asked a waiter for directions to the men's room, which was at the far end of the place. The bar clearly wasn't known for its luxurious amenities because there was no door, just an entrance to a long hallway that dead-ended in a sharp left turn into the bathroom. Desperate for relief, I focused on unzipping as I bulldozed down the passage. As soon as I rounded the corner, I slammed into something solid. Stumbling back, I blinked in confusion.

"The fuck?" A startled voice cut through the loud music as someone grabbed my arms.

I jerked my head up, ready to snap back at him, but the words died in my throat. Face-to-face with a Greek god, I could hardly breathe. As the music faded into the background, I took in his mesmerizing dark eyes, sun-kissed complexion, and chiseled features. My heart pounded, and I got so dizzy it's a wonder I didn't faint.

He narrowed his eyes. "Uh…"

I grunted in response and gave him a once-over. Damn, he was really something. We were both about six-one, but he must have been twenty pounds heavier, all solid muscle packed under a formfitting T-shirt. When I imagined dragging him into a stall, I fought the urge to bolt. Gorgeous guys had a way of turning my world upside down, so I tried to protect myself by avoiding anyone who stirred my emotions. A hard dick was the goal, but an interested heart? Never.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice a husky rumble.

Our eyes locked. He was still gripping my arms, standing so close we could have kissed. Heat radiated off him as we stared at each other, and a heady mix of woodsy cologne and man-musk filled the air.

"You okay?" he repeated.

"I'm fine. You?"

One corner of his mouth inched into a half-smile as a hint of mischief flickered in his eyes. Suddenly, he wasn't just a stranger in the men's room; he was a bad boy from dreams long-past, the kind who'd tempt you into ditching class for an afternoon of adventure.

"Watch where you're going next time," he said. "You could get hurt."

The playful edge in his voice only heightened my bad-boy infatuation, so I quirked an eyebrow. "You're the one who'd better watch it. The next guy you clobber may have anger issues."

We chuckled, the eerie, perfect unison heating the back of my neck. Our eyes were caught in a stare that resonated in my core, and I fought an impulse to ghost a hand across his abs. Surely, if I did, he'd wrap his arms around me and tug me against his broad chest. I leaned forward as his inescapable gaze pulled me in. His scent was stronger now, more primal, and sweat trickled down my nape as I struggled to breathe. I needed to look away —no, run away—but I couldn't move. What would it be like to kiss him, to experience his sensual, plump lips against mine? I could already imagine how his dark stubble would feel scraping against my cheek.

"Excuse me, guys." The impatient voice came from behind me. "Can I get by?"

My new crush tightened his grip on my arms before letting go. We stepped aside to let the other man pass, and it was only then I noticed it was Holcomb.

His eyes danced with amusement. "Guys too, eh?"

So much for me coming out to the team. He'd spread the news the moment he got back to our table.

When my dark-haired stranger nodded toward the hallway, I followed him back into the dining room, hoping my bladder wouldn't fail me. His smile was a breathtaking display of perfect teeth, and when he pushed a lock of raven hair off his forehead, I clenched my fists to keep from touching him.

"Are you here with someone?" he asked.

"A group of guys."

"Me too." He jiggled his eyebrows. "Want to ditch?"

Did I ever, but I couldn't desert my teammates after they'd taken me out. "I can't. It's a long story, but tonight's sort of about me. I've got to stick around."

He nodded. "That's too bad. I'm Luca, by the way."

"Harper." Fuck my life. Luca had just turned me inside out, and now cruel fate prevented me from spending time with him. He was too attractive to be safe, but in the grand scheme of things, how much harm could a one-nighter do?

"Nice to meet you, Harper," he said. "Want to trade numbers?"

"Sure."

We pulled out our phones, and my hands shook as I typed in his details. While I gave him mine, Holcomb walked by and shot me a wink. I braced for the inevitable teasing when I returned to the table.

Luca and I lingered, clutching our phones, caught in a quiet bubble that shut out the noise of the bar. A thrill rushed through me when I noticed the sheen of sweat on his forehead. It could have been the heat, but I wanted to think it was because of me.

He worked his lips into a smirk. "Text me? Or should I blow up your phone?"

I couldn't help laughing. "Either way works."

His eyes sparkled, and his smile broadened into a grin. "Good deal. Enjoy your night, Harper." He turned to walk away, then looked back. "See you around."