The Pucking Wrong Man (Pucking Wrong, #4)

by C.R. Jane

Camden lifted me off the ground and into his arms. “Are you ever going to scare me like that again?” he asked, a glimmer in his eyes like he wouldn’t mind starting the whole thing over again. Hell, I was kind of up for that too. “No, sir,” I answered, knowing what it would do to him. He leaned down and gave me a bruising kiss, his tongue leisurely licking into my mouth.

Usually, Anastasia was wrapped around me like a boa constrictor when I woke up, the most painful kind of wake-up when you were trying to recover from a dick tattoo since I wanted nothing else but to slide inside her soft heat.

“Anastasia, I’m sorry,” I said quickly, stepping forward. “I didn’t mean to yell.” She wiped at her eyes, her hands trembling. “I was just trying to help, Camden.”

“Camden, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. We hadn’t even gotten into what had led her to the streets or what had happened to her family. And here she was trying to comfort me after I’d freaked out. She was such a freaking sweetheart.

A gut-wrenching moment later, I realized she was sobbing into my shirt. “Baby girl, I’m so sorry,” I murmured, absolutely hating myself. I wanted to reach into my chest and tear out my heart. “I’ll never yell again. I swear.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again, and she squeezed me for another long moment. The smell of eggs and bacon still filled the air, but now it was mixed with the scent of her shampoo, grounding me in the present. Anastasia gently pushed away. “There’s no need to apologize. I’m sure my trigger list is a mile long. We should probably go over it sometime,” she joked.

A second later, her arms were wrapped around my chest, and I groaned because her touch felt so good. I don’t know why I thought that a shower was what I needed. What I needed was Anastasia. Always.