They were a package deal, and I knew this—wanted it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. It didn’t take long to realize that no matter what happened,

I would do anything to protect them.

She is the only one I want to be with.

When push comes to shove, I have to prove to everyone that this is my choice, and This is Forever.

This Is Forever

Tempt The Hookup

Luca

Prologue

Seven years before

“This booze cruise is exactly what you need,” Jason, my roommate, tells me as he packs a small gray tote bag. “After those midterms, I need to be drunk for four straight days, and maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll have hot sex.” I shake my head at him. He’s not lying when he says those midterms were bad. They were fucking brutal. I lived on pizza, coffee, and Red Bull for five days straight. But I had one goal and one goal only—to ace those fucking exams.

“We still need to be reasonable,” I say to Jason while I open my drawer and take out five folded white T-shirts. That’s me—reasonable Luca. Luca with the highest IQ; Luca who will graduate first in his law class from Harvard if things keep going the way they are going.

Jason groans from his side of the room. “Dude, if you fuck this up for me, I’m going to glue your ass cheeks together.” He points at me when a knock on my door has us looking over.

The door opens, and Nick and Tom walk in both carrying black backpacks. “What the fuck are you guys packing?” Tom comes over and sits on my bed. “You know that it’s four days, right? And we will be in shorts all day long.”

“Yeah,” Nick says, going over to my desk and sitting in my chair. Holding out his hand, he starts counting with his thumb. “You need a bathing suit, sunscreen, two pairs of shorts, five T-shirts.” He then looks at the three of us and smiles so big. “Oh, and two boxes of condoms.” He holds up two fingers and twirls around in the chair.

“It’s not a swingers’ cruise,” I admonish, tossing a couple of pairs of socks into my bag. “You are aware of this, right?”

“It’s called a booze cruise for a reason,” Nick says, laughing. “You booze, you sleaze. It’s a circle of life.”

“What happens on the booze cruise stays on the booze cruise,” Tom says. “We need nicknames.”

“Why?” I ask them, confused, while I pack a pair of dress pants, and all three of them look at me with their eyebrows pulled together. “You never know if it’s going to get cold at night, or it’s fancy and shit,” I say. “Why do we need nicknames?”