The Pucking Wrong Number (Pucking Wrong, #1)

by C.R. Jane

Monroe. I mouthed the words, my obsession threading through every letter. What the fuck was wrong with me?

a person as broken and worthless as me, he didn't deserve the stars to align like this. He didn't deserve a goddess like her. But there was no part of me that cared. Deserving or not… She was going to be mine.

"Good girl," he whispered back with a husky growl. And fuck. If I thought that reading those words did something to me, it was nothing compared to hearing his voice say it. It hit my insides, sending tingles between my legs, having a physical effect on me.

Lincoln’s attention was heady. It was addicting. It was already a craving I didn’t know how to get rid of.

"Ride my thigh, baby," he commanded, his hand on the small of my back holding me in place.

“Alright, dream girl. I’ll give you tonight. But you and me…its fucking real. It’s the realest fucking thing I’ve ever felt in my life. And sooner or later, you’re going to realize it too.”

“Get away from her,” he seethed, a darkness in his voice that I hadn’t imagined him capable of. In my interactions with Lincoln, whether in text or in person, he’d always seemed sunshiny, fitting his golden looks. Right now, he seemed capable of murder.

A high you spent your whole life chasing, it said. This felt like that.

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.

“Good girl,” he muttered, instantly drenching my panties. What was it about those words that universally ruined panties?

His cock was tattooed with my name.

I definitely wouldn’t be touching her or giving her any hope that anything was going to happen from tonight’s meal. Maybe I should whip out my dick right now and show her Monroe’s name?

I’m going to ruin you tonight.

"Good way to make sure people know you're mine," he growled in my ear. His possessiveness was like a drug, sending a little thrill racing through me.

"Hockey players are far superior athletes than all the other pussy sports, Monroe.

It was kind of fun being completely crazy.

I'd never let her leave, I thought as I drove. No matter what, I'd make her happy, even if it meant locking her up and waiting for fucking Stockholm Syndrome to take hold.

I could see the confusion on the reporters' faces as they noticed the name on the back of the jersey. It was Monroe's last name.

His eyes were starstruck as he stared down at me. A girl could fall in love in an instant being looked at like that.

I’m sick. But she made me this way. She should have to face the consequences of that, just like I did.

My girl was a sweetheart. I knew she would end up watching even if she didn’t want to. I’d also locked the elevator, and made sure all the knives and electronics were hidden. She was a sweetheart, but we also weren’t quite there yet.

I’d always been a sucker for the irredeemable sinners. And now it appeared…I had one of my own.

I could do anything, be anything…for her. She deserved a winner. So she was going to get one.