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.

I thought it would be fine, just a quick stay after I rage quit my job while I look for a new place.
I was wrong.
It’s not fine.
We fight. We bicker. We taunt each other like it’s a brutal Olympic sport.
Tristan never wears a shirt and looks like my every sexy nightmare come to life, complete with perfect abs.

He was my secret crush growing up, but I’m not the little kid wishing for his attention anymore.
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.

That line between hate and love? It’s looking pretty thin.
Now I’m wondering how either of us will walk away unscathed.