Sudden Flames (Sweet Promise #2) Page 2

  “Oh, God, Griffin…. Please,” I beg.

  “Please, what, Angelina? What exactly are you begging for?”

  “For you to… forgive… me.” My voice breaks. He doesn’t want me to speak. Every time a word gets out he’s driving his fingers harder, his thumb working magic circles on my clit, eliciting heat. Fire. He has me cupped in his hand, at his mercy.

  “Keep begging me. Beg me to fucking stop,” he growls in my ear, right before his teeth capture my earlobe and graze it. I moan when he pulls his mouth away, the warmth of them an unbearable mix with those magical fingers. “You want me to forgive you, you fucking beg, Angel.”

  Angel… oh, God. So maybe he isn’t as angry as he seems. He only calls me that when he means it… from what I know of our experience so far. My back arches, and I clutch the sheets above my head. He still has my wrists gridlocked in his hands. I don’t know how he’s doing this, bringing me so high, but it’s happening. It’s real, and it can’t be denied.

  “Beg,” he demands.

  “Please, Griffin… please,” I whimper.

  “Please? Please what, baby? Huh?”

  “Please forgive me…”

  “Forgive you for what?”

  “Trying to… betray you—oh God! Lying! OHH! GOD!” He’s going faster now, slamming, massaging, all at once. Shooting stars fly, fireworks behind my eyelids, almost reaching high enough… and then it happens.

  A great boom.

  A massive explosion.

  I shatter beneath Griffin’s frustrations and his rough embrace. I cry out—I’m not sure to whom—but it feels so fucking amazing and so very, very intense. Wave after wave hits me; I tremble and quake, my thighs locking around his hand as he slows down, still rubbing my clit, still drawing out my bliss.

  When my body finally dies down, my hips and back drop, my head rolling to the side, and I look in his direction. He pulls his fingers from between my thighs, brings them up, and slides them between my parted lips.

  “Taste yourself. Your betrayal. Your fucking lies,” he growls. “You fucking lied to me, stabbed me right in the fucking back, Angel, and yet, you still make my dick as hard as a fucking rock.” He moves his hips forward, rubbing his cock across my thigh. I feel it, it’s familiar, and I can’t deny the fact that I’m craving it.

  Because that’s where the ultimate pleasure lies.

  That’s really where the magic happens. Don’t get me wrong, those fingers were wonderful, but that cock of his? That thing is like a jar of notes that contains every woman’s greatest desires.

  “Why are you still willing to sign the contract?” I ask when he forces himself away from me, adjusting the hard-on in his pants.

  He holds up an impatient finger in my face, head shaking, eyes shutting briefly as he plants his other hand on his hip. “Don’t fucking speak… I can’t listen to you talk right now.”

  I frown. “What—”

  “ANGELINA! Just shut the fuck up for a second!” My mouth clamps shut as he turns his back to me, breathing unevenly. I’m so fucking confused for several seconds, until I realize what he’s doing.

  Breathing deep, his back facing me, ignoring me in my vulnerable state—shirt ripped wide open, no panties, or pants for that matter. I am basically his for the taking, and he knows that, but he doesn’t want to fall for it again.

  I huff a laugh, climbing off the bed just as he turns in my direction. “You don’t have to pretend you don’t want me… you can’t take back your attraction.”

  “Hush,” he mutters, but he knows it’s true.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Why what?”

  “The contract? Why still sign it? How did you even find out? Did you read it yourself?”

  “No. I went to my lawyer… who I just found out, has been fucking my wife for the past two years behind my fucking back.”

  I gasp sharply. I was not expecting that. “What!?”

  His mouth twitches.

  “How did you find that out?”

  “She told me… right after she tried to trap me.”

  I’m confused now. “Trap you how?”

  He blinks at me, his head shaking. “It’s… a long story. I’m not here to talk about that right now. Right now, all I have is my business. See, what I was going to do was have my fucker of a lawyer write up a bullshit contract similar to yours, sign it, and then have you sign it, and then own your ass, but then I thought about it… and I realized for a person like you to do something like this, things must have to be really bad back at home.” He steps towards me and my stomach sinks with the heavy knots now formed. “Is that why you won’t stay home for long? Why you don’t mind joining me for trips? Don’t you have people to get home to? Family? Friends?”

  “I’m a busy woman,” I retort.

  “Yes, and you’re busy for a reason.”

  “I enjoy my job. It’s what I do.”

  “It’s not just that.” He’s close now, his warm breath drifting through my cleavage and down the skin on my belly. “No, Angelina, even though we haven’t been around each other too long, I know something is up. You wouldn’t have done something like that, not even to the filthiest, most ignorant man in the world, because I know where your heart stands. You’re not that low. It’s why you were drinking tonight. Because of your regret. That guilt is eating you alive right now. I can see it.”

  I narrow my eyes.

  “Yeah,” he breathes. “I watched you for a few minutes before I came over to the bar. You’re feeling wrong about all of this. Why now? What triggered it?”

  The room is silent for several seconds. Still. I inhale before exhaling deeply, dropping my gaze, pointing it anywhere but at Griffin. “What triggered it was you walking out of my hotel room, kissing me goodbye, and smiling at me with absolute trust and security in your eyes. You had no doubts about me whatsoever. None, Griffin, and I felt so fucking horrible about it. I tried keeping my A-game on, to remember what I was doing it for, but I just couldn’t. When you went to get the coffee this morning, Scott called… I wasn’t even going to do it today, but I let him get into my head again. Like he always does.”

  He frowns. “So Scott is a part of this?”

  “He’s not after you, I swear. It’s Jenkins.”

  He swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he leans back and looks me over. He sighs agitatedly, and then walks around me, meeting at the end of the square table.

  Pulling the chair out, he sits, and then gestures towards the one across from me. “You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do for me, Angelina. Normally, I would have this squashed and you trashed by now, but since I despise my father-in-law just a tad bit more than my wife, I will grant you this opportunity. So sit and explain this situation to me. Don’t leave a single detail out, otherwise I won’t be able to help you as best as I can.”

  I nod, glad he’s offering me this chance. Maybe he will trust me again—with time, of course. It’s foolish to tell him this, knowing how often he speaks with Jenkins, but I know he’s only close because he has to be. He works for him, so there aren’t many choices when it comes to that. He can’t just drop out. We’ve done our research. He’s married to his boss’ daughter. That’s no coincidence at all and I know it.

  Hell, there aren’t any choices at all when it comes to Jenkins and his loot. “Okay… I will. But let me change first,” I say, turning for my suitcase in the corner. “I feel absolutely ridiculous right now.”

  “Good. Hope you learned your lesson.”

  I scoff. “Yeah, I don’t think I quite got the message. I came. That’s always a win in my book.” I shuffle through my clothes, pulling out a long black T-shirt that comes to the knee, and some pajama shorts. I have never dressed so flatly around Griffin, but this, I know, is about to be a long night. I don’t see why I shouldn’t get comfortable for it.

  “Oh, you got the message. Be glad it was my fingers punishing you instead of my dick.”

  I roll my eyes and smile, bu
t my back is to him so he can’t see it.

  I pull my hair up into a bun and then walk across the room to the mini fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. “I don’t normally buy the overpriced hotel bottled water, but something tells me I’m not allowed to go out and grab a cheaper one, so this will do.” I take the seat across from him, cracking open the bottle as he gives me an I’m glad you know kind of look.

  He folds his fingers on top of the table, watching me as I take a sip and then sigh from the refreshing, crisp taste.

  “About your wife,” I start, but he cuts me off, lifting a stern hand

  “No… just no. Not right now.”

  “But how could she tell you that to your face? She has to have no conscience at all—no heart whatsoever.”

  I can tell he doesn’t want to answer, but after giving it some thought, he says, “She found out about you and used her affair against me like a weapon. One thing about Colette is, she hates feeling played. She hates not being one step ahead. It’s what I used to love about her—her ambition, her drive, her efforts to always remain on top—until—” His mouth immediately stops moving, eyes shifting down to the tabletop. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter. She’s beside the point tonight. I need to know everything, Angelina. So start, from the beginning. What does Jenkins have to do with your father?”

  I hate speaking of Jenkins and the relationship he had with my father, but if this will help bring him down, then so be it. I can tell Griffin is starting to warm up to me after our icy reunion.

  And something also tells me that out of everyone he could have run to for comfort, he came to me.

  Yes, he finger fucked the shit out of me, but that’s okay. Luckily, I like it rough. And I’m fucking lucky to have the honor of Griffin Boyd pleasing me until Fourth of July fireworks explode above me.

  So, I start from the beginning, right when my Dad formally introduced me to Mr. Jenkins.

  Huge mistake on Dad’s part.

  Had he never met that man, he never would have lost his way.

  Chapter Two

  Colette

  I’ve been sitting in my car for two hours now.

  I’m parked in a parking lot that gives a clear view of the ocean. I hate the ocean during the day, but by night it’s beautiful.

  It sparkles like an endless sea of diamonds, and the moon hovers like it owns every single splash, every silky, dark wave. It’s a great view, but it can also make you feel low.

  I’m a broken, stupid, ugly mess.

  Isn’t it a shame when you start to feel pity for yourself? What was I thinking? Fucking Griffin? Taking those fucking conception pills? Trashing my birth control, knowing damn well I don’t want or need another baby?

  I don’t!

  I can’t picture moving on from my Bradley. Even after all these years, I just can’t. His loss has defined me, made me cold as ice and as wicked as a witch.

  God, he was my world. My life. I loved that boy with all of my heart, but just like that, he vanished.

  I lost my faith.

  In God.

  In my family.

  In everything.

  Bradley was the only good I really had. He was a creation from me, something I literally made from scratch. I remember every kick, every punch, every elbow and foot in my ribs.

  I remember the dreadful morning sickness, the blistering heartburn, waking up in the middle of the night after finally getting comfortable, just to sit on the toilet for minutes before officially getting less than a tablespoon of pee in the toilet.

  It was a struggle, but it was so beautiful, so lovely, and it made me see life so differently.

  I can’t go through that again.

  I’m not even sure I’m pregnant, but since I know my body so well, I can’t be surprised if it turns out I am.

  That was a gigantic fucking mistake. There are other ways to trap Griffin’s lying, cheating ass.

  Plenty of ways…. Not that I have much room to talk.

  If this baby does happen—if my mistake bites me in the ass—I will have to play my cards right. I don’t think I will get rid of it if I find out. Actually, I know I won’t.

  But I do know I will be terrified to keep it.

  And I also know that I probably won’t be the mother I was to Bradley. The caring, sweet, generous one. The one who made sacrifices… especially if I know this baby was put on earth out of vindictiveness.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  I swipe under my eyes, and as I do, the song Diary by Alicia Keys plays on the radio. I reach forward, ready to change it, but then a memory sinks in.

  This song represents a lot. It represents how my and Griffin’s relationship was before… until I blamed him for everything.

  I still do blame him, because he promised to watch Bradley—promised me he had it taken care of. And then I realize how foolish I was to leave my son at home alone with a busy, working man. Not even Arianna was around.

  I want to hurt. Feel something other than this gloom.

  So I crank up the volume, Alicia’s melodic voice drifting through my ears, and it squeezes my heart. This song came on the first day Griffin flew out to California to surprise me.

  He’d saved his money—the little he had—just for me, got a rental car, and took me to dinner. On the way to dinner, this song came on. I appreciated it so much. I was full of happiness. Nothing could break my smiles back then.

  I took him to so many places and even stayed in his hotel room for those four days.

  God, we had so much sex. So much fun. So many drinks.

  I still remember it. Every single detail, even though I don’t like to remember those days.

  Those were the happy days.

  The better ones.

  Before everything went to shit.

  Before he stopped loving me.

  And before I stopped loving him.

  What’s left of my heart shatters and crumbles, and I stare forward, but my hand moves ahead, turning down the volume.

  I sit in silence and realize that I can’t do this to myself anymore.

  I can’t keep feeling these things. They will kill me in the end. And I can’t have this baby, if there is one. It will destroy whatever shreds are left of me.

  So, I start my car, and I skid towards the nearest pharmacy. I scurry down the aisles until I find what I’m looking for.

  The clerk looks at me questionably when I check out but I ignore his prying eyes, snatching my bag up and dodging out the door.

  Once I’m in the safe confines of my car, I tear the box open, pop the morning after pills out of the packet, and down them with the lukewarm bottle of water in my cup holder.

  Because I don’t want this.

  I refuse to have another one of his babies.

  I refuse to give him that kind of hold on me—that kind of satisfaction— after what he’s done with that other woman. I will remain good enough.

  I drive away from the pharmacy, feeling something heavy weigh on my shoulders and in my stomach.

  Maybe I’m not as evil as I aspire to be.

  Maybe I do still care somewhere—somewhere distant, deep down, inside my ice-cold heart.

  I know I do, because as soon as I realize what I have done, I pull the car over to the side of the road, shove my door open, stick a finger down my throat, and gag myself.

  I gag as hard as I can until the little that is in my stomach spills on the gravel. Through watery eyes I spot the small, round, white pills, and a large gush of relief hits me.

  I shut my eyes, panting, sighing.

  Then I pull my door closed, grip the wheel, and drive.

  I don’t know where I’m going, and I don’t care where I end up.

  All I know is I need to get far away from here.

  Chapter Three

  Griffin

  How the hell did we get here?

  Naked between the sheets, bodies glued together, breaths labored, grinding in sync. How do I keep ending up like this with her? This fuck
ing Angel. This beautiful Angel.

  I don’t know what time it is. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. Should I even fucking care?

  When I saw those tears fall, the shame in her eyes, her heart shattered, I had to make it right. I had to comfort her somehow. It started with a hug, a back rub, and an “It’s okay.”

  But then she lifted her head, and looked at me with those big, blue, beautiful irises. She didn’t even have to say it. I knew what she wanted, but she did anyway.

  “Griffin… please¸” she begged. “I need to feel you. I need you. Please. Just let me feel you.”

  And I gave her exactly what she wanted.

  I took her raw— hands all over her body, greedy for her. I don’t know how I still had the stamina after Colette pretty much robbed me of my sperm. I was fucking tired, but after all that’s happened—all that’s been said—I’m on full alert.

  I can’t tell her about that—Colette wanting another baby.

  If I do, I’ll lose Angelina. She’ll feel like she’s in the way. I know it. She’s the type of woman to sacrifice her pleasure. She’s the type of woman that hates stepping on toes—hates being in the way.

  She would hate for me to choose, but she knows me too. She knows I’ll be there around Colette but not for Colette. For the baby, if she even has one.

  I love children, but I hope she doesn’t have another. I hope she doesn’t end up pregnant.

  If she does, I will take it as blessing—something that was meant to happen—and then I will take my baby far away from his demented mother and raise him or her right.

  I will watch out for this baby, this time. I will take care of him. I will protect him. If this baby happens, I will never let anything happen ever again. I believe in second chances, and if Colette is going to be expecting, then that will be my second chance.

  I don’t know when I cum, but I do, and as soon as it happens, I collapse on top of Angelina’s petite body, quietly apologizing for my lack of energy.