The Pucking Wrong Man (Pucking Wrong, #4)

by C.R. Jane

Unfortunately, the three hundred followers she had were all men. So, I’d spent thirty minutes reporting all of them—and then reporting her account, too, because it was nothing but a thirst trap for horny assholes. We’d be having a discussion about privacy and who to accept as friends at a later date.

I mean, I was so interested in this girl I might as well have a neon sign over my head that said “pick me, choose me, love me,” like I was an intern on Grey’s Anatomy.

The way she looked when she fell...that flare of pain in her eyes. Should I go back there and insist I take her to the hospital to get checked out? The fall didn’t look too bad, but maybe it was worse than I thought? No, no. I couldn’t just fucking kidnap her. Yet.

I’d figured that showing up at her workplace right after she’d seen me at the kitchen might have sent off stalker signals I wasn’t going for at the moment. I mean, I was her stalker...but I didn’t want her to know that.

Her gaze bore into me, and I was a little afraid she might have some sort of superpower, able to see inside me and all the sins I was willing to commit to make her mine.

Hopefully a lifetime of being a hero would make up for this little...pause. Maybe that’s what “...” meant. It was a psychopath pause. Although, I wasn’t quite sure Disney had a psycho gene in him. Lincoln, yes. Ari, possibly. Disney? Hard to picture.