The Pucking Wrong Man: A Hockey Romance (The Pucking Wrong Series Book 4)

We arrived at the building where Camden lived, a glass monolith that seemed to stretch to the sky.

I instantly felt out of place.

He ushered me into the elevators, his hand warm and comforting on my lower back, and I watched as he selected the top floor. He lived in the penthouse, that’s what they called the floor at the top, right?

When the elevator doors opened, I stepped into his living room and froze. It was enormous, with floor-to-ceiling windows showing off the entire city, the lights twinkling like stars. The room was filled with big, soft white couches that looked untouched, and a glass coffee table that sparkled under the lights. Tan and black, abstract paintings covered the walls, and a large, elegant rug spread out across the floor. I stood there, gaping, unable to believe I was in a place like this.

“Wow,” I whispered, barely finding my voice. “This is…incredible.”

Camden huffed, running a hand through his hair, looking sheepish as I gaped at his place. “Lincoln gave me the name of his interior decorator when I signed with the team. It’s a little…much.”

“Lincoln?” I said absentmindedly, before realizing who that was. “Oh, Lincoln Daniels.”

Camden stiffened…and it almost seemed like he didn’t like the sound of his teammates’ name coming out of my mouth.

But that couldn’t be it.

“Want to see your room?” he asked, and I nodded shyly, ignoring the little thrill I got when he said “your room.” I hadn’t had one of those in a long time.

If seeing him play in front of thousands of people hadn’t cemented the fact that we lived in different worlds—seeing where he lived finished the job.

I’d never been somewhere so nice. Ever. Michael’s parents had been well off in our town in the sense that they had more than one car and a four-bedroom house. Mrs. Carver had a cleaning lady who came once a week and a gardener that would sometimes trim the rose bushes.

Their wealth was nothing like this.

My mouth dropped more with every room I passed. That had been an actual theater room, and the kitchen looked like it was literally out of a movie. I felt like I was dirtying the place just being here.

“Here we are,” he said, after we’d passed what seemed like a million rooms.

I was quiet as I took in the bedroom, gingerly stepping inside.

It was like stepping into a dream.

The bed was massive, with a fluffy white comforter and a mountain of pillows that looked like clouds. Soft, warm light filled the room from elegant lamps on the nightstands. A large window overlooked the city, and I took a few steps toward it, gaping at the buildings laid before me. Tears were in my eyes as I stepped back and admired the plush rug on the floor, and the cozy armchair in the corner with a small bookshelf next to it. Everything was…perfect.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, wiping my eyes, completely embarrassed at the tears trying to find their way down my cheeks.

He hesitated for a moment, and then he was striding toward me, gathering me in his arms, and pressing my face against his chest so I could breathe him in.

Safe. The word echoed in my mind.

Had I ever felt safe like this before? Like my mind and my soul and my heart could actually take a breath?

I never wanted to leave his arms, and when he finally let me go, an embarrassing squeak escaped my mouth.

Camden James must have been a saint because he pretended he didn’t hear it.

“There’s a toothbrush and towels in the bathroom. You should jump in the shower to try and warm up. I’ll bring you some of my world famous hot chocolate and have it waiting for you.”

“World famous, huh?” I teased, managing to collect myself at least a little.

“Most definitely,” he responded, a glimmer of amusement in his gaze that did funny things to my insides.

We stood there for one more long beat of silence, staring at each other. “I’ll leave you to it,” he finally said in a gruff voice as he backed out of the room like it was a struggle for him to turn away from me. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Wait!” I called, and his head quickly poked back into the room.

“Everything okay?” he asked, concerned.

“Thank you,” I said in a trembling voice. “Thank you for saving me.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his face tense, like he was struggling with something. “Always,” he finally responded, before he closed the door behind him…and I instantly missed him.

But then, I turned to stare at the room one more time. I wanted to jump on the bed, beat on my chest, scream in exaltation.

But I also didn’t want to ruin the bed with my dumpster filth.

Shower it was.

It took me at least three minutes to figure out how to work it. There were three different showerheads and a bunch of buttons because evidently rich people didn’t clean themselves like the rest of us mere mortals. There were things like steam and bubbles, and one button was even hot air that dried off your body like those air dryers in the bathroom.

I sighed as the water caressed my body. I only ever showered at the dance studio, not wanting to risk taking off my clothes at the shelter in case they were stolen or someone decided to have some fun with me.

Staring at the expensive marble tile and the soap that smelled like jasmine…I suddenly felt so unworthy of all of this.

Maybe, it would have been better if he’d left me in that alley. I was going to have to leave tomorrow and find a new shelter.

And now I’d have this place to compare it to.

Once I was clean, I shut off the shower and slipped a towel around my body—wow. The towel bar had been heating the towel. It was like stepping into a warm hug.

In the past, I would have told myself that someday I would have a place like this, when I was a famous ballerina and the world had become my stage.

That dream had faded. The ache in my leg that never went away had chipped at that dream every day until I didn’t believe in it anymore.

There was a frown on my face as I stared in the mirror and I wiped it away. I had nothing at the moment to frown about.

Tonight, tonight I could pretend my life was good.

I had a feeling I would need this in my memory bank in the upcoming weeks.

Taking out my one clean pair of clothes out of my little sack, I slipped on the oversized shirt and underwear before the scent of something delicious had me stepping back into the bedroom. Just like he’d promised, there was a mug on one of the nightstands, steam drifting lazily up in the air.

A little thrill passed through me at the thought of him being right outside the door while I’d been naked in the shower….

I tabled that thought…because there was also a sandwich, three layers tall, and my stomach growled just looking at it. I practically flung myself at the food, inhaling it like a wild animal.

A knock sounded on the door, and I froze, thinking of how I looked at the moment. I frantically chewed, brushing the crumbs off my chest before realizing I’d just spilled them onto the plush carpet.

“Come in,” I said in a strangled sounding voice.

Camden’s face was strangely blank as he opened the door and stared at me standing there in the old t-shirt I’d pulled on. Crap, I hadn’t put my leggings on yet. I’d been so desperate to find out the source of the incredible chocolate smell.

I was suddenly very aware of my bare legs as his gaze trailed along my skin, a heat in his eyes that made me hungry for more than the sandwich.

But I was gaping at him too. His hair was wet and he was wearing a loose pair of basketball shorts and a tight Knights t-shirt. And holy hell, he was unfairly gorgeous. Whatever the lottery for life was—he’d won it. Hands down.

Camden shook his head slightly, rubbing a hand down his face, his cheeks tinged with color before he cleared his throat. “I’m going to be heading to bed. Just making sure you don’t need anything…I’ll be right down the hallway if you do.”

I nodded shyly, shifting my weight awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Did you try the hot cocoa? It should be cooled off enough now.”

“Oh! I haven’t yet. I was…well that sandwich was amazing.” Understatement, but I wasn’t going to admit I’d torn into it like a bear coming out of hibernation.

“Glad you liked it,” he murmured, a warm rumble in his voice that made my body flush with heat.

I picked up the mug, well aware my hand was shaking as I brought it to my lips, tentatively sipping it just in case it was still too hot.

“Mmmmh,” I moaned as the rich, velvety chocolate enveloped my tongue. It was heavenly, the perfect blend of sweetness and depth, with just a hint of vanilla and a touch of cinnamon. The warmth spread through me, soothing and comforting, melting away the last of the chill and fear that had settled in my bones in that alleyway.

It was like a hug in a cup, the best hot cocoa I could have ever imagined.

“Holy cow,” I breathed, and he chuckled, the sound sexy and warming me up even more than my drink.

“Did you make this?” I asked. It was probably a stupid question, but I didn’t know how rich people worked. Maybe he had a cook that stayed up until all hours of the night.

He blushed at my question. And if I’d thought he was adorable before…

“It was my mom’s recipe. Any time I was scared, or sad, or…well, she made it for me.”

I didn’t miss that he said “was” in relation to his mom. I also didn’t miss how wistful…and sad he’d sounded just then. I studied Camden, wondering if he knew a little bit more about heartbreak than I’d first thought.

I took another sip, sighing in happiness. “You’re going to have to teach me how to make this. I’m not sure I can live without it now,” I joked, sneaking another sip.

“I’ll make it for you whenever you want,” Camden said simply, a glint in his gaze. I smiled in response.

Wouldn’t that be nice.

“You have dance tomorrow, right?” Camden asked, glancing at the fancy looking alarm clock on the nightstand.

Yikes, it was one-thirty.

I nodded, and he made a delicious growly sound, like he was upset I’d be getting so little sleep.

“Go to bed, baby girl,” he said, and I squeezed my thighs together, my clit pulsing and a heat spreading through my core that I really needed to ignore.

“Yes, sir,” I teased, like I had before.

And just like then, there was a tangible heat in his gaze. He stepped forward, his fist clenching at his side before he squeezed his eyes shut briefly and took a deep breath and stepped away.

Like he was trying to hold himself back.

I wasn’t sure I wanted him to hold back though.

Camden finally opened his mouth and hesitated, before sighing. “Goodnight, Anastasia,” he murmured, and I wondered what he’d really wanted to say.

“Goodnight,” I whispered as he left the room.

I kneed onto the bed, sliding beneath the covers before I grabbed the mug and sipped it greedily, staring in wonder at my surroundings.

If this was a dream, it was the best one I’d ever had.

And I really wished it didn’t have to end tomorrow.