Dirty Little Promise (Forbidden Desires #2)

Emma

What a freaking day.

Trudging home six blocks with a bundle of books under my arm, I blew a wisp of hair from my face. I’d spent the morning waiting in line at a bookstore to meet one of my favorite authors only to have her be rude and indignant, sending me away with a flick of her wrist and an overpriced paperback with my name spelled wrong.

It had been a waste of time, but I’d gone because I needed the distraction. Gavin had been blowing up my phone for the past week, and I’d vowed not to answer.

So far, I’d been strong. I’d leaned on Cooper and thrown myself into the remodeling work my home needed. It wasn’t enough, but it was all I had at the moment. Yet I had a feeling this couldn’t go on much longer.

As I walked, I reflected on how this past summer in Boston seemed to go on forever, but now the cool fall air was a welcome reprieve. And the cold temperatures outside matched the icy chill inside my heart.

I sighed, hefting the books higher. One moment things with Gavin were perfect—I’d broken down his walls, or so I thought. And then the next, I was learning from his younger brother, Cooper, that Gavin’s ex had died tragically. A little research of my own had turned up the suspicious circumstances of her death.

I needed answers. Part of me wished I didn’t, wished I could just move on and forget Gavin Kingsley ever existed. But that wasn’t possible. After everything we’d shared the last tumultuous weeks, I couldn’t just walk away.

Instead, I’d run to Cooper and demanded an explanation. At first, he tried to play coy—said it was Gavin’s story to tell—but I wouldn’t let him off that easy. No way. I pressed Cooper until he caved, and since I was fairly certain he had a soft spot in his heart for me, it wasn’t all that difficult to get him to spill Gavin’s dirty little secret.

God, I’d been so stupid.

My resemblance to his ex was eerie. My long, dark hair fell over my shoulders just like hers, and our eyes were the same piercing shade of blue. We were the same height, same size, and had the same full lips and feisty smile. It seemed like there was only one difference between us—

I was alive.

She’d died in Gavin’s apartment. The article I’d read said Gavin had been the one to find her—in the bathtub. The details had been sparse, and a lot of things didn’t add up. Initially, foul play had been suspected.

When Cooper had insisted that Gavin would never have harmed her, I hated myself for it, but my mind stewed with doubts. I knew what Cooper didn’t—that Gavin had a penchant for rough sex.

Maybe things had gotten out of hand between him and Ashley. I wasn’t sure, but that fact had nagged at me, so even though I wanted to move on and forget my affair with the enigmatic multimillionaire Gavin Kingsley ever happened, it just wasn’t possible.

I needed to hear his explanation. I wanted to see the look in his eyes while he told me the story in his own words.

After successfully dodging his calls for days, I wasn’t yet ready for what was sure to be one of the hardest conversations of my life. So, when my phone rang for the sixth time that day, I’d expected it to show Gavin’s name on the display. Instead, it was a number I didn’t recognize.

I never should have answered. It had been Alyssa, Gavin’s executive assistant, and now he was due at my place in the next fifteen minutes.

I should have been afraid, should have run the other way and fought to erase him from my memory. Instead, I was doing the one thing I knew I shouldn’t . . . agreeing to meet with him. Because whenever I was alone with him, I found myself bending to his will more easily than I would have thought.

• • •

Pulling open my front door, I was met with the angry stare of a very sexy man.

A man I hated.

A man I still wanted.

A man who made me feel desperate and confused and wanton.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Gavin Kingsley’s six-foot-three-inch frame filled out a suit better than any man I’d ever seen. And that scowl on his perfectly handsome face? I wanted to slap it right off. Luckily for him, I was raised with better manners than that.

“Come in.” I waved him forward coolly, closing the door behind us and leading him into the front room.

He was silent, taking a moment to get his bearings. How strange that Gavin had never been inside my homey little brownstone. Then again, we’d only been dating a matter of weeks. I only felt like I knew him better, probably due in part to our run-ins at the coffee shop over the past year. But I didn’t know him, not really.

Gavin’s gaze wandered to a midcentury-modern sofa that rested opposite the windows, and the colorful rug in a geometric print that lay beneath our feet. Seeing my home now through his eyes, I felt self-conscious about my little place. If his home was a work of art, mine was a preschool arts-and-crafts project.

His eyes were the most brilliant shade of hazel, mossy green mixed with caramel brown, and they sliced through me with curiosity every time he appraised me. Now was no different.

What did he think about when he looked at me like that?

All the intimate, stolen moments we’d shared? Or the fact that I looked like his dead girlfriend?

A cool shiver raced over my skin.

“Where do we go from here, Gavin?”

“Pet?” He stumbled over the word.

I’d never heard Gavin so unsure, had never seem him anything less than calm, cool, and collected. This was new. And slightly unsettling.

My confidence rising, I straightened my shoulders and met his gaze. “I’m practically an exact replica of your last . . . submissive? Is that what she was?”

His throat moved as he swallowed, but he made no attempt to answer.

“Oh, excuse me, aside from the fact that she was younger, thinner, and a dancer.” I drew a deep inhale through my nose.

What the hell was wrong with me? Suddenly, I was jealous over a dead girl I’d never even met? Yet I couldn’t deny those feelings of uncertainty swimming through me. I’d have been jealous of anyone who had Gavin’s attention before I did. It was such a wondrous thing, so all-consuming and at times so fleeting.

“Cooper told me everything about . . . Ashley.” Her name tasted bitter on my tongue, and I heaved out a sigh.