After every match, within two days, that writer would post another story.In just a few months, they'd racked up hundreds of thousands of followers.***Final match of the spring season.Joel and his team clinched victory—3:1.As Vespera's owner, I stood behind him, watching as they lifted the championship trophy.Chad glanced back. "Boss, join us for a photo?"I nodded, stepping forward.The only open spot was beside Joel.We stood shoulder to shoulder, hands on the trophy.Late spring blurred into summer, the air thick with heat.His bare arm brushed mine—warm, solid.The scent of eucalyptus, sharper in the warmth, drifted between us.It reminded me of a passage I'd read last night—[Leila's perfume clung to her skin, sweet and addictive, mixing with the darker, musky scent of Joel.][The waves crashed in the distance, but all he could focus on was the heat between them—the way her breath hitched as he leaned in.][His voice dropped, rough with hunger. 'You smell too
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