Prologue - Cameron
Eleven years earlier…
I fucking love college.
Freedom from my dick of a father and a chance to make my own decisions.
Decisions that involve me getting absolutely plastered at a frat party hosted by my team captain, Harry.
The captain of the women’s team is apparently in their paired sorority, so the women are all here as well.
My fucking Kryptonite because I’m a slut for an athletic woman.
Just a slut in general, really.
One more reason to love college.
Another is the tall woman pouring herself a drink in the kitchen.
Her back is turned to me, so I can’t see her face, but I can see how fit she is even from here. Tight, defined muscles under smooth, dark skin. And she’s tall.
Like,taller-than-some-of-my-teammatestall.
Her light pink top hugs her perfectly, and the black miniskirt she’s wearing shows off those long legs.
Like a magnet, she pulls me right in, and a few moments later, I’m standing right behind her.
“What’s a pretty girl like you doing grabbing her own drink?” I drawl, leaning against the counter.
She startles slightly before turning to face me, andfuck,she’s even prettier than I expected.
Full lips. Deep brown eyes. Flawless skin.
Damn.
“Can I help you?” she replies, annoyed.
“I’m just saying I’m more than happy to pour you a drink, baby.”
She scrunches up her nose. “Ew. I’m not your baby. I don’t even know you.”
I shoot her my dazzling smile. “So get to know me then. I’m Cameron Kovacic.”
“I know who you are,” she scoffs.
“Yeah?” I grin. “What do you know?”
“I know you’ve never had to work as hard as the rest of us because your dad played in the NHL. I know that you stick your dick in any woman you meet. I know that I’ve been talking to you for two minutes, and you’re already annoying the hell out of me.”
I cross my arms. “My dadbarelyplayed in the NHL.”
Ivor Kovacic spent two years playing on the third line for the Boston Patriots before he ruptured his Achilles tendon. He couldn’t get back to the level he was at before, never playing professionally again, and spent the rest of his life trying to live vicariously through his son.
“Love that that’s the only point you refute.” The pretty, still-unnamed woman rolls her eyes.
“What else can I refute?” I shrug. “I can’t decide that I’m not annoying you, and I like sex. My dad may have played in the NHL, though, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t work my ass off to get where I am.”
She snickers. “Not according to my boyfriend.”
