by Roxy Sloane
“I feel terrible,” I whisper, unable to disguise the tremor in my voice.
“Please, don’t.” Beatrice lifts her eyes. “If it wasn’t you, it would be some other woman. My husband has a way of avoiding our problems, and they usually come in a skirt.”
Her words cut hard. “He’s done this before?”
I can’t believe it. I would never have thought Ash could betray his vows like that.
Beatrice pauses. “I have my suspicions,” she admits, looking pained. “As I’ve said, our marriage hasn’t been the easiest of unions.”
“Can I ask how long you’ve been married?” I ask, curiosity burning through my numb pain.
“Two years now,” she replies. “We met in London, it was a whirlwind affair. I didn’t want to rush into anything, but Ash insisted.” She smiles at the memory. “We were married in the same church where my parents had their wedding. It was the happiest day of my life.”
She shows me her phone. The screensaver is a wedding photo: her in a white veil, Ash in a tux at her side. They’re clinging on to each other in a shower of confetti.
He looks so happy it hurts.
Something in me dies, looking at the screen. Up until now, a tiny part of me has wondered if she’s lying, but the proof is right there in front of me.
Ash betrayed us both.
“I’m sorry,” I say again uselessly, tears stinging in my throat. I’ve never felt so humiliated in my life.
“No, I am,” she insists. “You got mixed up in something that had nothing to do with you. I know how magnetic my husband can be,” she adds sadly. “It’s part of his charm.”
His dirty rat bastard charm.
I can’t sit here a minute longer. I get up. “I won’t keep you.”
“Please, let me walk you out.”
Beatrice accompanies me downstairs. I notice the diamond ring on her finger for the first time: a massive rock, plus a gold wedding band.
Ash’s betrayal hits me all over again.
“What will you do?” I ask, reaching the front door.
Beatrice shrugs. “I know I should leave him, but…” she gulps. “I love my husband. I want to make it work. We both had our ways of dealing with what happened.”
I frown, confused. “What are you talking about?”
Her face slips. “I… I lost our baby,” she whispers. “Last year. He’s been different ever since. Working late, traveling. I just hope we can heal, together.”
Now I really do feel sick.
“I know you don’t owe me anything,” Beatrice adds, looking at me hopefully. “But could I ask a favor?”
I wait, feeling like the scum of the earth.
“Give Ash and I a chance to save our marriage.” She swallows, looking nervous. “I know you have a history together, you’re not just another one of his random flings. But I need time to work this out with him. If you could give us that space…”
“You don’t need to worry,” I cut her off. “You guys can have all the space in the world. Ash and I are done, end of story.”
Beatrice looks relieved. “Thank you,” she says, suddenly giving me a hug. “Thank you so much.”
I pull away, grabbing my suitcase and heading blindly outside. The sun is still shining, the street bustles with life, but I’m a million miles away.
In hell.
Ash is married...
I repeat it over and over to myself as I wander down the street, but I can’t get my head around it. Every time we were together, he was cheating on his marriage vows. Every gift, every tender word…
It meant nothing to him.
I want to sit down in the middle of the sidewalk and weep.
Of course I was just a random fuck. Of course he didn’t mean it.
All my insecurities come rearing up, larger than life. Men like Ash don’t seriously fall for girls like me – they marry women like Beatrice instead. Women with class and breeding, who can hostess dinner parties with their fancy aristocratic friends. Not some girl from Chino who’s made it out by the skin of her fingernails.
No wonder he didn’t introduce me to those people in the Hamptons. I’m his dirty little secret, his cheap whore.
I can feel my heart breaking. For all my promises not to think about the future, I’ve always hoped we would have one. It seemed meant to be, that after all this time, he finally came back into my life. Wooing me with the dirty invitations, whisking me off for our romantic weekend away.
Questions race in my mind. Why would he put so much trouble into seducing me? And why did he swear there would be no more games, no more lies? If he was just looking for a cheap distraction, he could have walked into any bar in the city and had women fall at his feet.
But no.
He came after me. He toyed with my emotions.
He made me believe that he really cared.
Pain rips through me. I trusted him, again. God, what a fool I am!
It was all just another game.
My cell phone buzzes with a text. I look down through my tears. It’s him.
“Remember, naked in bed for me,” his message reads.
I hit delete, then go into my contacts and delete his number entirely. I told Beatrice the truth. It’s over, dead and buried. I never want to see him again.
Kiss him.
Fuck him.
My body tightens just at the memory of us in bed together – out on his back porch, me lying on the table like a dessert for him to savor.
Has he fucked her there, too? Some other woman?
All my memories of our time together suddenly feel tainted and wrong. All my happiness now torn away and made into something ugly and cheap.
Now I know why I kept it light and casual all these years. Never getting too close, never allowing myself to open up and care for someone.
Because when you do that— when you let down your defenses, even for a minute— they turn around and stab you straight in the heart.
And it’s never hurt so bad in my life.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JUSTINE
“So this is what a broken heart feels like.”
I slump lower on the couch in Keely and Vaughn’s apartment, totally miserable. It’s been two days now since Beatrice dropped the bombshell, but I’m hurting worse than ever. I didn’t think I could feel any worse after the revelation that my secret admirer was Ash all along. But now, with all my cards on the table, I feel like I’ve been run over.
Ash keeps calling, texting, trying to talk. Every time I see that string of numbers flash across my cell phone screen, I feel sick. He even kept showing up at my building. I ordered the doorman to keep him out, but eventually I just packed a bag and moved into one of Keely’s spare bedrooms instead. I couldn’t risk running into him, not when I still feel like the ground’s been ripped out from under me.
Finding out he was the one sending the invitations was a shock, but it was nothing compared to this.
“He’s married!” I scowl again, holding out my empty wine glass for a refill. “Why would he do this to me?” I’m totally confused. “He said he cared. I figured all the secrecy was part of the game, but maybe it was just so he wouldn’t get caught.”
“It doesn’t make any sense.” Keely shakes her head sympathetically. “I mean, what guy would go through all that effort to win you back if it didn’t mean anything?”
“A fucking sociopath,” I spit. My pain is hardening into a knot of anger, and I cling to it with everything I’ve got.
I’ve had enough weeping and moping and feeling like a mess. If I could just be angry at him, that would make it so much easier.
“He’s a manipulative scum-bag,” I glare. “I can’t believe I fell for it. That I actually thought….”
I trail off, hurting too much to even say the words.
I thought we were for real.
I thought we had a future.
I thought I was falling in love with him.
“I’m going to die alone,” I colla
pse back with a sigh.
“Don’t say that,” Keely tells me firmly. “You’re brilliant, sexy, and amazing. And one day, you’ll meet someone who appreciates what a goddess you are.”
“Sure. And then I’ll meet their wife.” I sit up. “You should have seen her: she was perfect. Perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect rich ‘lady who lunches’ outfit. Exactly the kind of girl I always imagined he’d marry. And she was so sweet!” I groan. “If I met the woman who was screwing my husband, I’d claw her fucking eyes out. But she just sat there, looking so tragic. She made me tea, Keely. She was nice to me!”
Keely looks sympathetic. “You think he’ll get back together with her?”
“I don’t care,” I lie. “There’s no fucking way I’m ever seeing him again. As soon as I can go six hours without breaking down in tears, I’m getting on that plane and heading back to LA.”
Keely looks sad. “I know you have to get back to work, but I’ve really loved having you here. It’s been awesome having my best friend back.”
“Yeah, I’m great company, crying all over you and eating all your junk food.”
She gives me a hug. “I don’t mind. Whatever you need to feel better.”
I look around at the mess of junk food wrappers. “We’re out of ice cream…” I say hopefully.
She laughs. “Double chocolate chunk?”
“With hot fudge sauce. And whipped cream. And marshmallows.” I figure if I’m going to pig out, I should do it right.
“Coming right up!” Keely grabs her purse. “Pick us a movie while I’m gone. You want to watch Dirty Dancing for the hundredth time?”
I shake my head. “No romance,” I vow. “I need car chases and gun fights and shit blowing up.”
“For you, anything.”
Keely heads out, closing the apartment door behind her.
I sigh. I’m trying to be angry, but it still hurts too much.
I miss him.
I hate it, and I hate him for doing this to me, but every time I picture those piercing eyes, his gorgeous muscles…the way we would flirt and laugh together…
I miss him so bad.
There’s a knock on the door. Keely probably forgot her keys, so I get up to let her in.
But it’s not Keely waiting in the hallway.
It’s Ash.
He’s a mess: dark shadows under his eyes, a rumpled shirt like he hasn’t changed in days. But I tell myself I don’t care what he looks like. I don’t give a damn anymore.
“No fucking way.” I glare, trying to slam the door in his face.
He steps inside too quick, blocking it open. “JJ, wait.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” I spit, my voice like ice. Smarter guys would turn and run, but I guess Ash isn’t one of them.
But I already knew that. Married bastard.
“Just let me talk,” he demands. “Please, JJ—”
I flinch, hearing my nickname. “Don’t ever call me that again!”
Ash hangs on, refusing to move. “You need to listen to me.”
“Why?” I yell. “So you can lie to me some more?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then tell me how it is.” I fold my arms. “Go on, explain how you forgot to mention your fucking wife!”
Ash flinches. “I meant to tell you…”
Pain slams through me. “So it really is true?”
“No, I mean, we were married,” Ash admits. “But it’s over. It’s been over for years.”
“Then you might want to tell that to her. Because she sure didn’t act like it was over.”
Ash’s jaw clenches. “She shouldn’t be here.”
“Too late, she is.” My anger cracks for a moment. I feel tears rise. “How could you do this to me, Ash? You promised you would be honest with me. I trusted you.”
His answer is hoarse and raw. “I know. I’m sorry.”
He looks so broken, so desperate, it almost makes me forget my pain. My heart aches at having him so close to me again: the scent of him surrounding me, the heat from his body almost in my reach.
I hate myself for it— even knowing he’s lied and cheated, I still want him. My body still craves him.
“You don’t understand—” he tries to speak.
“I don’t want to!” I yell. “Don’t you understand? You ruined everything. Leave, please. I don’t want you anymore.”
Ash’s face darkens. “Liar,” he growls.
His hand shoots out and grips my wrist, yanking me to him.
I try to pull away.
“You want me, darling, don’t even try to deny it.” His eyes strip me naked.
“I hate you,” I tell him through clenched teeth.
It looks like that hurts him, but just as fast, the dominating mask is back. “So hate me,” he demands. “Use me. Fuck me.”
Something in me shatters. Anger and bitterness and all the hurt I’ve felt comes boiling up inside me. A raging inferno. Needing and despising him in equal measure.
Why does he do this to me?
“I mean it.” Ash pushes me roughly back against the wall. I gasp, expecting him to kiss me, but instead he lets me go, holding his hands out, palms up. Surrender.
“Use me, JJ. Hit me. Hurt me. Do whatever you want to me. You’re the one calling the shots now.”
I stare at him, my breath coming fast. I’ve never felt so out of control as when he’s touching me, but this is a whole new kind of crazy.
Goddamn.
I shove him back against the other side of the hall. Hard. Ash’s eyes blaze dark, and then we’re reaching for each other, grabbing hard, a vicious collision of hands and tongues and teeth. My mouth is savage against his, biting down on his lips. I pull his hair, scratching at his back, yanking him closer and closer, as if I’m trying to meld our bodies through sheer fury.
I hate that I still want him, that my body aches for him, that my pulse is racing and my clit throbbing with need as he yanks up my shirt and roughly grabs my breasts. I growl in his ear and bite down hard, and then we’re tumbling to the ground, oblivious to everything but the fire and anger and blazing hot chemistry between us, stronger than ever.
“Bastard,” I pant, as Ash grinds down on me, his cock thick through his pants. I claw at his shirt, ripping off buttons in my hurry to get him naked. My mouth is on his neck, sucking and biting, marking him like he’s marked me. He tries to grab my wrists and hold me down, but I fight back, flipping us suddenly so I’m straddling him on top.
I yank down his pants and grip him tightly. Ash groans. “Is this what you want?” I demand angrily. “You want to fuck me? Is that what all your lies were for?”
“What do you think?” Ash’s gaze turns soulful. Too sincere. I don’t want to think, I don’t want to remember all the ways he’s betrayed me. I just want to feel.
I push down my sweats and pull my panties aside, sinking down on his cock.
So. Fucking. Good.
I squeeze my eyes shut, I can’t look at him a minute longer. I just need to clench around his thickness, ride him hard until I feel him hit just right, right there, deep inside.
I moan, bearing down again, grinding hard. His thick shaft impales me, thrusting up in time with my strokes, rubbing against my walls until my blood coils hot and needy.
More.
I move my hips, finding a rhythm as I slide along his length and then sink down, rocking faster. I’m grinding on his cock, pleasure racing through me with every stroke. I can hear him grunting faster, his body clenching beneath me, but I keep my eyes squeezed shut.
This isn’t about him. It can’t be. I’m using him like he used me, fucking myself on his magnificent dick, caring only about how goddamn good he feels inside me. Riding and grinding and pumping my hips faster and faster.
Then he shifts, rising up and spearing deep, and suddenly he’s pressed against that perfect spot so deep inside that I cry out.
“Right there,” I gasp as I grind against his cock. Fuck, I�
��m already so close. My fingers find my clit, rubbing in swift circles as he thrust up into me again. My whole body is strung out, ready to fall.
“JJ…” his voice comes, hoarse.
“No! Don’t talk,” I pant.
His hands grab for me, but I take his wrists, pinning him down, riding hard. I keep my eyes pressed shut in the blackness, where there’s no betrayal or hurt, where there’s nothing but the tight ache in my clit and the gorgeous slide of his cock and the sharp flash of bliss, rising, burning, until finally I come, hard and deep, a shattering climax edged with bitter regret.
What the fuck did I just do?
I open my eyes, the waves subsiding. Ash is motionless on the ground underneath me, breathing hard. I scramble off him before he has time to come.
“Get out,” I say, a sob rising in my throat.
I turn away, clenching my hands into fists so I don’t reach for him instead.
There’s silence, and then I hear him get to his feet. The zip of his fly. A belt buckle fastening.
I can’t look at him. Not without breaking down, and fuck it, I won’t let him see me like that.
I hear him walking across the apartment. The door opening. Then his voice comes, low and certain.
“I’m not giving up on us.”
“It was just sex.” I grip the back of the couch. “Sex is all we ever had. I don’t have any other use for you.”
I hear his sharp intake of breath. “You don’t believe that. I know you too well.”
The door closes behind him with a click. It feels like a gunshot.
Fuck.
Self-loathing and loss crash through me. He’s gone. He’s really gone.
I clench my jaw. I’m not going to cry, goddammit. He’s not worth my tears.
But as I sit there, I know I just fucked up in an epic way. I wanted to screw him out of my system, but all that’s done is remind me how good we are. How perfect it feels when he’s thrusting deep inside me.
My body doesn’t care about the lies. It wants him more than anything, and that’s too fucking dangerous to risk.
The sooner I get back to LA, the better.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JUSTINE
