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Messing around with Arsen is like playing with fire, and I can't help but crave the burn. The day I met my best friend's new stepbrother I fell into hate with the moody jerk. The feeling is mutual. I loathe him and unfortunately want him in equal measures. At least he seems to be suffering the same undeniable pull. He infuriates me. He's crawled under my skin. Arsen has the ability to ruin me for anyone else, and I want to let him.

Moving to the sleepy town of Havens Hallow, Massachusetts, during my senior year hadn't been part of my future plans. Not to mention the ancient house my father bought sits next to the creepiest place imaginable—a graveyard full of battered stone statues. It's a far cry from the upper-middle class neighborhood we left behind. That wasn't the only thing I had to walk away from. My position as the star quarterback of my old team has now been replaced with a not-so-cozy spot on the sideline. With a football scholarship on the line, I can't afford to be benched. I need help, and fast.

I never intended to become a stripper. Two years ago, I was in Nashville chasing the songwriter dream. Sleepless nights between day jobs were spent writing rock ballads and trying to make a name for myself. That all changed with one phone call that forced me to return to Atlanta. Needing consistent income to pay the mountain of debt I'd come home to, I traded stripping my soul for stripping my clothes. Then Archer West comes crashing into my VIP room, tempting me to break all of my rules.

I'm not your typical matchmaker. For one, I'm a man who's covered in tattoos. Despite my appearance, there's a reason ninety-five percent of my clients seek out my services based on referrals. I'm good at what I do. But lately I've grown bored with the same daily routine. Then an unexpected request piques my interest. CJ, the former college basketball star who recently rented the office suite next to mine, isn't looking to place a ring on someone's finger any time soon. He's interested in something else entirely. It's a challenge. Something new.

Noah: Rook Oliveira stumbled into my life when I was eleven years old. Being the scrawny new kid at school with a mouth full of braces, I never expected to become unlikely best friends with the most popular boy in seventh grade. At eighteen, I gathered the courage to tell him I was gay and admitted I'd never kissed a guy. He offered to be my first. Straight or not, that kiss had burned with nearly tangible fire and tattooed the moment on my heart. I've spent the last four years trying to forget it.

My brother's best friend is the biggest player on campus—both on the basketball court and between the sheets. Not that I can blame the swarm of girls that worship Knight Jackson's size fourteen sneaker-covered feet. I've been in love with him for as long as I can remember. He's been breaking my heart for just as long. While I'd been busy memorizing every detail about him, he'd never seen me as anything other than Pace's younger brother. It wasn't smart to crush on a straight guy in the first place, so now that I'm in college, I'm ready to move on.