The Wrong Play (The Wrong Player, #2)

by C.R. Jane

After that, I swallowed the words instead of screaming them. Because that was the moment I realized—no one was going to save me.

But really, what excuse would I give? Hey, my roommate is a little too ghost-like for my taste, can I please have someone who blinks?

“You dead?”

“Pretty sure I just met Jesus,”

“Do you always walk up to random girls and say stuff like that?” she asked, eyeing me like she was trying to figure out my angle. “Only the one I plan on marrying,” I said, dead serious. She finally laughed. Like a full-body, tilt-her-head-back-and-giggle kind of laugh. I felt that shit. Like an electric shock straight to my bloodstream. “There it is,” I murmured, feeling strangely satisfied. “There what is?” she asked, still smiling. “The first laugh. The first step toward our inevitable love story.”

I fucking beamed. Sign the marriage license. I was gone. She wanted me.

“I don’t need your name to know this is something special,”

“You’re stalking me,” I accused. Jace’s smirk grew impossibly wider. “That depends,” he said, his voice low…intimate. “Would you be into that?”

“Now I’ve got your number. And you’ve got mine too. Buckle up, buttercup, because it’s about to get fun.”

Parker: You’re stalking her, aren’t you? Me: I prefer to call it strategically placing myself in her orbit.