The Pucking Wrong Guy (Pucking Wrong, #2)

by C.R. Jane

"Deep breath, angel, and then exhale slowly. You're doing great." The panic began to ebb away, replaced by a sense of calm that I hadn't thought possible. For a minute, the frenzy was gone. The world around me disappeared until nothing but silence was left.

His smile grew broader, like there was sunshine inside him he couldn’t contain. "It’s no biggie.” His gaze darted over my face and I wiped at the tears still dripping down my cheeks. “I'm Ari, by the way." My voice wavered as I replied, "Layla." “Layla,” he repeated, holding out his hand to help me off the ground.

When I finally reached out and grabbed it, my fate was sealed. I just didn’t know it yet.

In her world, even a speck of imperfection was a stain that tarnished the glossy veneer she worked so tirelessly to maintain. She believed that life was a performance, a grand stage where we were all actors in an elaborate play. And her role, it seemed, was that of the director, guiding every scene with precision and determination.

“I’m sorry.” The words escaped my lips in a whisper, my voice tinged with sorrow. Because he really was such a good man. And I was the fool who couldn’t take what he was offering. "What?" Clark's expression shifted from confident anticipation…to shock. I hadn’t known I would say no before this moment. I never would have guessed it, in fact. But I steadied myself, meeting his gaze with a mixture of resolve and pain. "I can't marry you."

The trade had just happened, so I’d missed most of preseason training. But fuck my life. Hopefully, Layla knew how to make cookies because I would deserve several panfuls after my sacrifice this year. Blake, not Layla—I needed to remember that was her name now.

His presence was a force of nature, all-consuming masculinity that demanded attention. With raven-black hair that fell effortlessly across his forehead and those penetrating green eyes. He exuded an air of dominance, the very

embodiment of an alpha male. He was like a predator in a world of prey, and every instinct in me knew it.

I swore I’d never seen him before, even if every part of my DNA was convinced he was the most beautiful man I’d ever come across. But he had to be someone big, someone famous. Why else would the other A-listers in the restaurant be saying hello?

I’d always had a thing for guys with dark hair and green eyes. I blamed it on the crush I had as a child in the group home. I had a type, and I didn’t venture far from it…case in point: Clark. But this guy was like my fantasy on crack. My naughtiest day dream come to life. The walking embodiment of allure.

Yet, here before me was the living embodiment of that fantasy. A stranger who you knew—one night with him could be the stuff of dreams, an unforgettable encounter that would leave you breathless and forever changed. YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND, a voice screamed in my head. I understood that…it’s just I was having trouble remembering his name at the moment.

She was like a lightning strike, breaking my fucking heart with her beauty. She had me and every other guy—and girl—in the room doing double takes.

I immediately wanted to gouge out all their eyes with the fork on the table in front of me. Mine, my insides–and my dick–were screaming.

I’d immediately known it was her, Layla, the girl I’d lost. The only girl I’d ever loved. A million memories came rushing back…ones I’d long buried and tried to forget.

Because now that I’d found her…Now that I could breathe…You could fucking bet I would never let her go again.

I watched as her features grew cold, a clear rejection that left no room for misunderstanding. "I'm not for sale," she shot back, turning around in a clear dismissal. With a rueful smile, I stared as she walked away. The view from behind was just as captivating as it had been from the front. That was okay. I could do the whole redemption arc. I needed to concentrate on my plan without making her hate me on our first encounter though. I was usually more charming than this.

I scrolled to her contacts, inwardly raging when I saw how many times Clark—the boyfriend I’d found out about from the P.I.—had called and texted today. I blocked his number and then made a new contact with my number that I labeled “Clark.” A second later, I was

downloading the tracking app the P.I. had told me about onto her phone. It would also allow me to see any messages she sent or received, as well as her app activity. I blocked Clark in her social media apps for good measure.

Well that’s a choice 😂😂

“Here you go,” she said brightly, but it was in that bland way that people used with strangers. I couldn’t wait to not be a stranger to her anymore. I wanted to be her best friend, her everything. It was the only ending I could accept.

I was teetering on the edge when I finally trudged home after my grueling shift at the restaurant where I’d had my ass grabbed no less than three times. Upscale didn’t mean better behavior. But I’d known that already from living with the Shepfields.

Walker hesitated for a moment, then got into it. His awkward moves slowly morphed into a goofy dance, and soon enough, we were both grooving like nobody was watching. I kept my ear out for the sound of anyone coming, and when I heard footsteps, I conveniently stopped

and leaned against the wall like the cool stud I was.

They loved a showman, and I was more than willing to oblige. I gave a little bow because I was fancy like that, and the crowd went wild. Hockey for me wasn't just about playing the game; it was about putting on a performance. The crowd was here for entertainment, after all, and I aimed to give them a show they'd never forget.

“Having fun?” I mouthed at one point, smiling as she ducked her head and nodded shyly. Fuck, she was killing me with her perfection.

"I still can’t believe you’re trying to claim you don’t know him," she hissed, sounding a bit surly. I shifted uncomfortably, attempting to downplay the situation. "Charlotte, you're making a big deal out of nothing. I served his table at Franco’s. That’s it. We barely talked." I sounded nonchalant, but inside, I was a different story. I was replaying the moment when his eyes locked onto mine, the wink he'd given…the blown kiss. And obsessing/freaking out over the fact that his name was Ari. My first crush was a boy named Ari. But there was no way this was the same guy. Kids from a group home didn’t end up becoming star hockey players.

Ari Lancaster was the embodiment of desire.

“If you were my girl, there wouldn’t be anything that would keep me away.” I choked on some spit in my mouth, so shocked at what he seemed to be insinuating.

Ari sighed and rubbed a hand across his face as if he were pained. “Lincoln, meet your number one puck slut. Mr. Disney Prince himself. Walker.” Walker groaned and turned to leave, before Ari reached out and grabbed his shirt with a laugh. “Come here, buddy. We need to tell Lincoln about our new pre game ritual.” Walker’s face went an almost violet shade of red before he covered it in embarrassment. It was kind of funny to see this big, tattooed hottie cringing in embarrassment. Lincoln studied Walker for a moment before a slow grin spread across his beautiful face. “You were fucking amazing tonight, bro,” he said, holding out a hand for Walker to shake.

He had saved me, and I owed him everything.

“Because I have a boyfriend.” “You should probably put him on notice then, sunshine,” he murmured with a slightly crazed grin. “Of what?” I whispered. “Of the fact he’s about to lose his girl.” His lips brushed against mine then, so, so softly, and it felt like a piece of my heart was clicking into place. Ari pulled back and stared at me for a long moment.

Lincoln got a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, why don't you figure out something that could happen to the car?" he suggested innocently. "Even us rich guys don’t like a little legal trouble." I gaped at Lincoln, and then glanced at Monroe, who was blushing and biting down on her bottom lip. NOT LOOKING SHOCKED AT ALL. "He's more devious than I've given him credit for," I mused. Monroe's eyes sparkled. "You have no idea," she replied.

I stood there, trembling with a mix of fear, confusion, and anger, as the door slammed shut. Trying not to think about the fact that the overarching feeling coursing through my veins…was relief. Because he hadn’t kissed me.

The Shepfields hadn’t believed in therapy. But as a ten year old little girl, I sure could have used it. I could’ve gone now. I should’ve gone now. But my list of problems was so long, I was too embarrassed to talk about them.

I was about to offer her some water when she dropped a casual bombshell. "So, Ari was at the party last night. Looked pretty cozy with that actress from one of the new drama series. He couldn’t keep his hands off her." I tried to hide my reaction, keeping my expression carefully neutral as I took a sip of coffee. But my hands were shaking. That slithery feeling…the nasty one I’d felt in the locker room…it was there again. The mention of Ari at some party, getting cozy with another woman…it shouldn’t have bothered me. He was nothing to me. I had no right to be jealous or hurt.

"Hey, sunshine," he said gently, "what's going on?" His presence alone felt like a lifeline, and I struggled to find the words to explain the overwhelming rush of emotions that had consumed me. “Just a bad day,” I finally squeaked. “This looks like more than just a bad day…but we can go with that story if it makes you feel better,” he said, reaching out to brush a tear from my face. All thoughts escaped me as I watched him bring the tear to his lips. He licked it off. And he seemed to savor the taste. “There, now we can share the bad day,” he murmured with a wink, completely unrepentant for the weird as hell thing he’d just done. A shocked cough came out of me. But a part of me also felt a little bit better.

He moved his hands and grinned shyly. “You like me making a fool in front of you, sunshine? That make you feel better? Because I’ll do it all day if it’ll make you smile.” “No one will be mad about us hanging out?” I asked cautiously, Charlotte’s story about his girl from last night front and center in my head. Ari's confusion over my question was clear, and he shook his head firmly. "No one will mind," he assured me, his tone unwavering. "And even if they did, I wouldn't care. You'll find I'm a ride or die kind of guy, baby."

“Lincoln must really enjoy this part of the friendship,” I remarked. He threw back his head and laughed, and now I’m the one who seems starstruck, because the sound of it is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. “Oh, no doubt, it’s the best part for him, for sure.” We hovered there, him leaning over me, big, silly grins on both of our faces. And I suddenly couldn’t remember any of the reasons I was upset today.

She’d always been my sad girl, though. Since the day we’d first met. From the moment she’d arrived at the group home after her parents’ deaths, tears were an ever-present companion. More often than not, I’d find her curled up in some corner, sobbing over what she’d lost.

I turned on some Tay-Tay to try to get her talking, and sure enough, after “High Infidelity” started playing—a banger of a track, by the way—she turned her head back toward me. “I’m starting to believe there’s nothing wrong with you,” she blurted out, a gorgeous shade to her cheeks as I glanced at her, amused. “Sunshine, you might be onto something there,” I grinned, flashing her what I knew was a panty-melting smile. Her blush deepened.

I made a show of running my gaze from her toes to her angelic face until she was squirming on my seat. "Sugar won't change perfection, Blake. It'll just make it sweeter." A bashful smile graced her lips, and she searched my face as if she was making sure I really meant that. “Sugar does sound good,” she finally murmured, something that looked a lot like adoration in her eyes. Good job, Ari, I told myself. Because it was important to give yourself mental high fives when you were fucking amazing.

I’m dead 😂😂😂😂😂

“Not at all, sunshine. Just reinforces the fact that you need me. A bestie in your corner to tell you you’re the motherfucking most perfect creature I’ve ever come across in my life,” I said confidently. She gaped at me as I flashed her my most winning smile.

“We’ll fix all those problems together. I promise. But for right now, you’re going to let me feed you the rest of this scrumptious cupcake, and you’re going to believe me when I tell you that your body literally makes me feel like I’ll die because you won’t let me touch it. And then we’ll watch whatever terrible rom com you just picked, even though Harry Potter would obviously be the superior choice. And I’ll feed you tacos…or whatever else you want. And you're going to forget all about everything else for the rest of the day.”

The rest of the day would go down in my history as one of the most perfect days I’d ever experienced. And I decided, right then and there...

I was done waiting.

Except…where had he learned to do this? Because it had never been like this with him before…

Holy Batman—when had CLARK gotten this good at fucking head?

“Clark,” I moaned. “I don’t⁠—” “You know who I fucking am. And don’t you fucking say his name again, or I’m going to choke you with my mother fucking cock,” Ari Lancaster growled.

I hesitated for one more moment, because this would change everything. After this moment, I could never go back to how it was. Whatever that meant for me, good or bad. A voice in my head told me to run away, to stop this mess before it began. But I was awfully tired of listening to it. “Ari. I want you to fuck me,” I said slowly.

“You are so fucking hot," he groaned. "I couldn’t have even dreamed of how good this would be." He gave me one last lingering kiss. "Now, let me fuck you, Blake.” His hand slid into my hair holding my head so I was forced to look into his vibrant green eyes. "I’m going to make this so good for you, baby. You’ll never want anything else." I didn't tell him that I was already ruined. That I honestly couldn't comprehend the thought of anything better than this. That I didn't know how I was going to survive without this.

“Yes, that’s it. Look at you, coming on my big cock. What a fucking good girl.” My insides clenched, another tiny orgasm fluttering through me at his words. He grinned wickedly. “Looks like someone likes to be praised. Which is my lucky day. Because I’m going to spend every day in this sweet pussy, telling you how perfect you are.” “Ari,” I whimpered, because his words. His dick. Everything about him. It was too much.