The Pucking Wrong Number (Pucking Wrong, #1)

by C.R. Jane

"Good girl. That’s my fucking girl."

Of course she wasn’t going to just fall into my arms and declare her undying love to me before I whisked her away. Baby steps and all that.

I was going to kill Lincoln. I would probably end up kissing him first. But then I was definitely going to kill him.

But her days at this place were numbered. A few more steps in my plan, and she’d be out of this dump permanently. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about her tonight. I’d copied her key, and after she fell asleep…we’d be having a sleepover party. Other people might call that scary stalker behavior. I called it true love.

Lincoln opened my door, helping me in and then actually buckling my seat belt for me. I giggled and grinned at him, until he realized what he’d done. His cheeks flushed adorably.

“You think you don’t have a claim on me?” he finally growled, breaking the sex-fueled silence. “You think it’s possible for anyone else to exist now that I’ve found you?”

"Monroe, I see you. I see all of you. And I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here for you, every step of the way, no matter what. Because I know that you're worth it. You're worth everything. Eventually, you’ll trust me. I’ve been lonely all these years, too. Waiting for you."

No matter what, I'd make her happy, even if it meant locking her up and waiting for fucking Stockholm Syndrome to take hold.

“Fuck love, Monroe. Love is nothing. You can feel love for anyone. What I feel for you is pain. Knowing that a part of my fucking soul is living outside of my body and now that I’ve found it, I’ll die if I ever lose it. That’s what we have. Love is a shadowed imitation for people unlucky enough to never find their soulmates. What we have is everything.”