Wrong Number (SO WRONG, IT’S GOOD #1) by Mayra Statham EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Mayra Statham
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 4.6 MB
- Price: Free
vivi delacruz
MY PHONE RANG, and without looking at it, I knew what it said.
Unknown caller.
But I knew.
I knew exactly who it was.
My hand trembled as I moved my thumb to the answer button. There
were a million and one reasons why I should ignore it, why I should send it
to voicemail. But only one reason to answer.
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Him.
Nix.
“Hello,” I answered as calmly as I could and anxiously waited to hear
his voice.
“I didn’t think you would answer,” he remarked, his voice scratchy and
deep. Somehow, the tone went straight to the core of my body, making my
sex ache. Pulse. There was something about it, something that sounded
familiar about my sexy somewhat stranger, but no matter what, I couldn’t
put my finger on who he could be.
Nix.
“Why?” I asked, softly slipping back into my bed. Spring had rolled in,
raising the temperature during the day, but it was still chilly at night.
“Because of last night,” he reminded me like it was no big deal. My
pulse picked up speed at the reminder. My face went hot, and I licked my
lips. Last night’s call was one for the books.
“Last night,” I whispered, unable to hide how much that call had
affected me. How I hadn’t been able to concentrate on much of anything for
more than five minutes without thinking of last night’s dirty, sexy
conversation. A conversation that had worn me out so much I had slept
through my alarms and been late for work.
“Hmm,” he grunted, and I knew that tone.
I was more than familiar with it. I didn’t miss the way his breathing
changed just slightly. Just a little, but I’d noticed it. I always did. There
wasn’t a lot I missed when it came to my unknown caller. I knew exactly
what he was doing on the other end of the line.
“Did you have a good day?” I asked, making mundane small talk while
I was pretty sure he was stroking himself. If I shut my eyes, I could almost
picture him in my room even though I had no idea what he looked like.
I imagined him sitting in the reading chair I kept in the corner of my
room across my bed. His face and form hidden beneath the shadows of the
darkness and soft moonlight that streamed through the slats of the blinds. A
faceless man with fathomless eyes.
He’d watch me.
Study me.
His darkened form would be breathing heavily as he sat with his legs
open wide and his hands on his lap while he stroked himself to the sight of
me.
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