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

I couldn’t sleep. Sometimes it was like this, the energy buzzed beneath my skin for hours when everything felt like too much. Sometimes it was when my body was too hurt to move, but my mind was desperate to continue. I could see the steps in my head, every inch of my soul wishing I could lose myself in them.

And sometimes it was because my sadistic foster brother had decided to torture me further by blackmailing me.

The practice with Dallon had made today a bad day for my leg—not that there were very many good days with my leg anymore. But even after icing it and taking a painkiller, it still felt like someone had jabbed a nail into my bone.

And it was too quiet. I hadn’t gotten used to the lack of…noise in this place. The shelter had been so loud that I’d been able to block out a lot of my dark thoughts. After all, if the girl on the cot next to me had a life so bad that she had to scream in her sleep, what was mine in comparison?

In the quiet of Camden’s penthouse, every depressing, morose thought and memory I’d ever had was free to run rampant in my brain. I flipped over for the hundredth time, finally burying my face in my pillow and huffing in exasperation.

What—

I lifted my head up, searching to see if there was anything on my pillow that I was smelling. But there wasn’t anything there. I’d helped Camden wash these sheets after he’d bought them for me.

I smashed my face into the pillow and inhaled deeply, feeling like a complete idiot as I did so. It’s just that I thought that I had smelled something…something amazing.

The scent was oddly familiar, a smell that tugged at the edges of my memory. Where had I smelled that scent before—a complex blend of earthy musk and subtle spice that made me want to live in it.

One more inhale, and it hit me.

This was what Camden smelled like.

A whisper of a moan escaped my lips as I breathed him in.

Was this his laundry detergent that I was smelling? If so, why wasn’t every person on earth using this? I’d never smelled anything so good in my entire life. That brand was really missing out.

My hand slipped into my sleep shorts, dragging down to my core to help with the sudden spike of lust I was experiencing. My fingers grazed my clit, and I bit down on my lip hard as pleasure surged through me. I pressed down and⁠—

What was I doing? I was in Camden’s house…as a guest…about to make myself come because the sheets smelled like him. In any circumstance that would have been inappropriate, but especially after today.

Pull yourself together, I hissed at myself, yanking my hand out of my shorts and sitting up in bed with a sigh. I was tempted to dive back into my sheets and soak up his smell again…but that would’ve been weird.

Weirder than getting off to his laundry detergent already was.

Sliding out of bed, I padded to the door, my leg groaning with every step. A glass of water would probably cure the heat between my legs.

That and a cold shower.

I needed one of those as well.

The house was silent as I walked to the kitchen.

I was tempted to turn on a radio or something, just to block out the stillness. That would be weird, though, for me to be blasting music after midnight in someone else’s house, right? I could just see Camden coming out of his room and staring at me like I was crazy.

Filling a glass with water, I took a big gulp, praying that the chill of the liquid would cool me down.

It didn’t work.

Sighing in frustration, I decided to walk around the house for a minute. It wouldn’t help my leg, but maybe it would calm my mind.

Limping now, I made my way down the hallway where Camden’s room was. The theater room was down this way as well. Maybe I would watch a movie, that would probably distract me.

My footsteps echoed softly against the polished floor as I walked down the hallway. Passing an open door, I peeked inside and caught a glimpse of Camden’s room….and his bathroom…and his shower.

Which he was in.

Camden stood beneath the spray of water, his broad shoulders glistening with droplets as he ran a hand through his damp, dark hair.

Heat flooded my cheeks as I watched him, my pulse quickening with each passing second. It was like I was frozen in place, unable to tear my eyes away from the mesmerizing sight before me.

My gosh, why did he ever get dressed? It was a crime against humanity that he ever wore clothes. He had the kind of body meant to be worshiped.

I had the urge to fall to my knees.

Michaelangelo would have wept to have the chance to carve him into stone.

I traced every inch of his body obsessively, the heat building in my core. This was doing absolutely nothing to help in that regard.

I really needed to yank myself away, but I couldn’t seem to be able to get my legs to move.

His arm flexed as he dragged a washcloth down his chest, and then…the washcloth dropped.

Camden gripped his dick roughly, and I was entranced.

I honestly hadn’t known that they made dicks that big. It was like he was carrying a coke bottle between his legs. How did that fit in anyone?

Don’t think about his dick in someone, I hissed at myself, a little nervous I was going to squeak out an accidental moan because I was so turned on.

Even from here, I could see his swollen, glistening head, the thick veins along the length, the way his hands were closed around the rigid flesh…my mouth was watering for a taste.

Who even was I right now? He squeezed and pulled at his cock, sliding it from root to tip as he fucked his hand.

I pressed my thighs together, resisting the urge to touch myself because despite all the lines I’d already crossed just from watching this…that would be the line to stay far away from.

His ass flexed as his fist pumped up and down in long strokes, and the low groan that came from his lips had me taking a few more steps into the room—as if I just couldn’t help it.

And then his head turned, and he was staring…right at me.

I was frozen, my gaze locked with his. This was the time for me to run, but it was as if my feet had sunk into concrete and I’d lost the ability to use them.

Camden didn’t stop.

He bit down on that full, sultry bottom lip of his as his fist sped up.

I’d never be able to watch porn, because I was confident no video could ever measure up to this.

His chest was broad and defined, tattoos stretched across his muscles. The water glistened on his skin, highlighting every curve and dip, every sinew and vein that snaked its way across his torso like a map of untamed wilderness I longed to conquer.

Camden ran his free hand down his abs, a washboard of rippling perfection.

I wanted him. I wanted to touch his body. I wanted that perfect dick.

Maybe it wasn’t a want. Maybe it was a need.

There was a dare in his gaze. A dare to stay. A dare to go. I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t move.

He groaned again, his eyes growing hooded and dark, a faint blush to his cheeks that I was sure had nothing to do with the heat of the shower.

My hands were trembling at my sides. I’d never desired something like this before. I’d never let myself feel the kind of lust that burned your insides and put a glitch in your brain.

I wasn’t human anymore. I didn’t know what I was.

I just knew that I wanted Camden James with everything in me.

His gaze never strayed away from mine. I watched as his movements sped up, and his breaths came out in gasps. A moan slipped from his perfect lips when his body began to jerk.

“Anastasia,” he breathed as shots of milky, white cum painted the glass in front of him. He fucked his hand through his orgasm, the head of his cock swollen and hot looking as more ropes of his seed spilled onto the shower floor.

We stayed like that, staring at each other, long after his orgasm had ended, neither of us saying anything.

Speaking of saying anything. Had I just imagined that? Had he really said my name as he came?

That thought finally broke me from the spell I’d been under. I forced myself out of his room, sprinting down the hallway, ignoring my leg screaming at me in protest.

He didn’t call after me or come rushing down the hall.

And a part of me was disappointed about that.

Once safely ensconced in my room, I locked the door behind me, leaning against it as I tried to gain control of myself. This was madness. I prided myself on control. I forced my body into submission every day, pushing myself past its limits to get what I wanted out of it while I danced.

But I couldn’t control myself right then. I couldn’t stop myself from crossing the room to my bed and sliding onto the sheets that smelled like him. I couldn’t stop myself from yanking my soaking wet panties down to my knees and allowing my fingers to trace through my sopping, slick folds. I couldn’t stop myself from pressing on my clit until pleasure was surging through me.

And I couldn’t stop myself from picturing Camden the entire time that I made myself come.

The biggest thing that I didn’t stop myself from doing?

Freaking out about the fact that I’d heard him listening by the door as I groaned his name.