Текст книги "Promise to Marry"
Автор книги: Jessica Wood
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Promise to Marry
(Promises, #1)
Jessica Wood
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Jessica Wood
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
ERH Press
ISBN-13 978-1-940285-13-9
First Edition: January 2015
Thank you for purchasing this book.
If you would like to stay informed of new releases, teasers, and news on Jessica Wood’s upcoming books, please sign up for Jessica Wood’s mailing list.
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ABOUT Promise to Marry
We were best friends since as early as I could remember. We grew up together. We were next door neighbors. We shared each other's deepest secrets.
When I was thirteen, we made a pact: If we were still single by the time we were 30, we’d marry each other.
Today was my thirtieth birthday.
I was single. I knew he was single too.
But we were no longer best friends, and a part of me knew that he hated me.
Table of Contents
Also by Jessica Wood
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Author’s Note
Other Books
Synopsis & Excerpt from Oblivion
About the Author
ALSO BY JES SICA WOOD
Emma’s Story Series
A Night to Forget – Book One
The Day to Remember – Book Two
Emma’s Story Box Set – Contains Book One & Book Two
The Heartbreaker Series
This is an Emma’s Story spin-off series featuring Damian Castillo, a supporting character in The Day to Remember . This is a standalone series and does not need to be read with Emma’s Story series.
Damian– Book One
The Heartbreaker – Prequel Novella to DAMIAN – can be read before or after Damian.
Taming Damian– Book Two
The Chase Series
This is a standalone series with cameo appearances from Damian Castillo ( The Heartbreaker series ).
The Chase, Vol. 1
The Chase, Vol. 2
The Chase, Vol. 3
The Chase, Vol. 4
The Chase: The Complete Series Box Set – Contains All Four Volumes
Oblivion
This is a standalone full-length book unrelated to other series by Jessica Wood.
Oblivion
***
Pre-Orders Currently Available
Promise to Keep – February 9, 2015
“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul – and sings the tunes without the words – and never stops at all.”
Emily Dickinson
PROLOGUE
When we first met twenty-three years ago, I had hated him.
“You look like Pippi Longstocking!” That was the very first thing he’d said to me. He’d flashed me a boyish grin as he pointed to the pigtails my mom had braided for me that morning before I had said goodbye to her.
I’d stuck my tongue out at him in protest as I followed Aunt Betty and Uncle Tom into their house—my new home. I had known instantly that I wouldn’t like this boy. He was mean, he was a bully, and he sure wasn’t going to be any friend of mine.
Well, at least that was what I had thought that day when I moved in with Aunt Betty and her husband. But, like so many other things I’d thought throughout my life, I had been wrong.
Somehow, despite my resistance, he’d chipped away at my stone-cold seven-year-old exterior and won me over within a matter of just a week. I’d discovered that he wasn’t mean after all. He wasn’t a bully, either. In fact, somehow, without even knowing how it’d happened, he had quickly become my friend—and not just any old friend—he had become my best friend. My confidant. My constant. My anchor.
We’d been inseparable as we grew up together, spending hours in his treehouse, talking and laughing until Aunt Betty would call me into the house for bed every night.
And even in one of my darkest hour when I was thirteen—when I felt the most lost and alone, when I purposely drove everyone, including him, away—he had been there, by my side, to comfort me. He had been my rock and had refused to be ignored or pushed away.
That was the day we had made our pact: If we were still single by the time we were thirty, we’d marry each other.
I had known even then just how lucky I had been to have him in my life. I had loved him the way best friends loved each other. But it wasn’t until I had lost him that I had realized just how much I’d love him—how much my love for him went far beyond friendship. It wasn’t until we were no longer friends that I had realized that he had been my one and only love all along.
But by then, it was too late. I had screwed up. I had ruined everything. I had done something that was unforgivable. And a part of me wondered if I had enjoyed it. So how could I possibly ask him to forgive me when I couldn’t forgive myself?
Now, twenty-three years after we’d first met, we were both thirty and single, but I knew that it was he who now hated me.
CHAPT ER ONE
Present Day
“Promise?” I looked into his rich, emerald eyes—those eyes that always had a way of making me feel at home.
“Promise.” He beamed at me and squeezed my hands as we secured the love-lock onto the bridge railing and locked it in place.
He pulled me into his arms and whispered in my ear, “You’re my best friend, Clo. You won’t ever have to worry about being alone. I promise that I’ll always be here for you when you need me.”
A splendid mixture of bliss and comfort spread through me like a warm blanket on a cold day as I sank into his inviting embrace. Despite everything that’d happened in my life, I felt hopeful. Because I knew that no matter what the future held for me, Jackson would always be there. And for me, that was enough.
“Here’s to your thirtieth birthday,” he said playfully as he finally pulled away.
“And yours too,” I added.
“Well, not exactly.” He paused and grinned—that same boyish grin from the first day we met, the same boyish grin I’d come to know so well in the past eleven years, the same boyish grin that made my heart soar with happiness.
“What do you mean?” I feigned a frown, knowing too well he was being a smart-ass.
“Well, seeing as I’m eight months older than you, our pact won’t start when I turn thirty.” He chuckled smugly. “So I’m rooting for your thirtieth.”
“Jax.”
The sound of my own voice woke me from my dream. My eyelids felt heavy as I tried to open them and keep them open, battling against the inviting weight of sleep. Finally, I gave in and closed my eyes again, a part of me hoping I’d drift back into that memory from years ago, a memory that seemed as vivid as if it’d happened just yesterday.
But it was too late. The dream was gone. I couldn’t return back to that moment in time—back to that moment with him.
I opened my eyes, drawing in a long inhale of breath as reality set in. Today was my thirtieth birthday. The big 3-0! I’d always thought that when this day finally came, I’d somehow feel different. I thought that this day would feel meaningful, that somehow a magical switch would turn on inside me and I’d have it all figured it.
I was wrong. I didn’t feel any different this morning than I had the night before. Nothing had changed. I was still working at my boring administrative assistant job at a law firm, living in a tiny studio apartment in a shitty neighborhood in downtown Los Angeles, and getting by, paycheck to paycheck. This wasn’t how I had envisioned my life to be at thirty. Because he isn’t in it, a tiny voice said inside.
Feeling a bit frustrated with myself, I kicked off the comforter and walked to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face.
“You’re being ridiculous, Chloe,” I said out loud to the reflection that stared back at me from the mirror above the sink. “You’re overreacting. You don’t have a miserable life. In fact, it’s pretty damn good. You just had a weird dream and now you’re being irrationally nostalgic.” I splashed some more water against my face, trying to wake myself up so I could think clearly. Drawing a deep, labored breath, I looked back into the mirror and spoke again, but this time I spoke as if I were trying to persuade someone off a ledge. “That’s all in the past. You can’t change it. You can’t. The only thing you can do is move forward. You have a lot to look forward to.”
I grabbed a towel and patted off the water from my face. “You’re right,” I responded back to my reflection and flashed a resolute smile. “I have so much to be happy about. I’m thirty and I have a wonderful boyfriend who makes me happy and takes care of me.”
Just then, as if in support of my positive thinking, my phone started ringing. It was Carly.
“And I have a new best friend, and here she is now.”
Feeling a lot better than moments ago, I grabbed my phone and answered it.
“Hi, Carly,” I said cheerfully.
Before I could stop here, Carly’s musically-challenged voice came through the phone as she sang me “Happy Birthday” off-key with such confidence, you’d think that was how all people sang the song if you hadn’t known any better.
I burst into a fit of laughter. “Thanks for that. I really needed a good laugh this morning.”
“Hey, everyone loves my incredible off-pitch renditions of songs. I’m simply giving them the Carly-twist.” I could hear the humor in her voice as she pretended to sound serious.
“And I, for one, love the Carly-twist,” I played along.
“Well naturally,” she said sarcastically in her diva voice.
I giggled as I pictured her flipping her long blond waves over her shoulder as she batted her long lashes.
“So how does it feel to be so old?” she teased.
“No different than I felt yesterday. But don’t worry, you’ll find out for yourself in a few short months,” I teased back.
“Touché.” She groaned. “Get those old-lady walkers ready for me.”
I laughed and shook my head. “You’re too much sometimes, Carly.”
“Oh, you love it.”
“Riiight.” I dragged out the word, highlighting the sarcasm in my voice.
“So what do you have planned today? Will I even get to see you?”
“Well, Jeff’s taking me out for dinner and this comedy show tonight.”
“Ohhh, that sounds like fun. So are you going into work today or taking the day off?”
“I’m working today. I want to save my vacation days and can’t afford to take a non-paid day off.”
“Girl, you seriously work too hard. You need to live a little. It’s your thirtieth birthday, and you have a self-employed boyfriend who works from home. What you should be doing today is having lots of obligatory birthday-sex with your hot sex-on-a-stick boyfriend.”
I laughed. “All you think about is sex.”
“True story. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.”
“You’re seriously too much sometimes, Carly.” I giggled.
“Thank you,” she said proudly.
I rolled my eyes. In the past two years I’d known Carly, she’d always been that free-spirited wild child, the type of girl that I’d dreamt about being, but knew I could never emulate even if I’d tried.
“Anyway, babe,” she continued, “I gotta get going now, but I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”
“Thanks, Carly. Maybe we can grab lunch today near the office?” Carly and I worked only two blocks from one another, so we tried to meet up for lunch at least once a week.
“Yeah, maybe a late lunch? I have a business meeting out of the office this morning, so I probably won’t be back in the office until one.”
“Sure. How about one-thirty, then? And if you’re running late, just let me know.”
“Sounds like a plan. Have a good day at work, babe. See you soon.”
“Thanks, Carly. And don’t worry, I’ll be sure to make time for that birthday sex.”
She laughed. “Get it, girl!” With that, she clicked off.
***
“Thank you, Mr. O’Brien. I’m sorry this was so last minute.”
“Don’t worry about it, Chloe,” my boss reassured. “It’s been a slow week at the office anyway. Have a nice birthday and enjoy the day off.”
A huge smile spread across my face when I got off the phone. After my conversation with Carly a few minutes before, I realized that she was absolutely right. I had to live a little. It was my thirtieth birthday. I had a gorgeous boyfriend who had a flexible schedule. Why shouldn’t I treat myself to a day off work and spend the day having birthday sex?
With a renewed sense of excitement, I’d completely pushed my dream from this morning out of my thoughts as I raced to my closet to find something to wear. I reached for my phone to tell him I was coming over, but before I pulled up his name, I decided that I wanted to surprise him instead.
Surprise sex for him. Birthday sex for me. Win-win. I felt giddy with excitement as I riffled through my clothes. After a few seconds of searching, my fingers stopped dead in their tracks when they found the perfect outfit. A devious smirk curled my lips as I quickly grabbed it from the hanger and got ready.
Thirty minutes later, I was standing outside his apartment in nothing but a sleek black trench coat that came down mid-thigh and a pair of black five-inch fuck-me boots.
I felt sexy, adventurous, and aroused as I knocked on his door, anticipating the things we’d do to each other, the things he’d do to me. Jeff may not have been perfect in many ways, but when it came to sex, he was pretty damn close.
When he didn’t answer the door, I knocked again. Still no response. I leaned my head on the door and could hear what sounded like the TV from the other side. He must be working at his office desk in his bedroom.
Just then I remembered that Jeff had given me a set of his keys for those in-case-of-emergency situations.
Is the need for birthday sex on your big 3-0 considered an emergency? “Close enough,” I decided out loud as I pulled out his keys.
When I walked into the living room, I could hear the muffled sounds of cries and a struggle coming from the TV in the bedroom.
I laughed when I realized what Jeff must be watching and walked through the hallway leading to the bedroom.
“Jeff, are you watching Jerry Springer again? I knew you secretively loved that—” But when I walked into the room, my words got lost in my throat as shock paralyzed me in place at what I saw.
There, on the cream sheepskin area rug I’d gotten him last Christmas, was Jeff, naked and on his knees, pounding himself in and out of some blonde’s ass.
“Chloe!” Jeff called out in alarm. He leaped off the woman, his erection emerging from inside the blonde. It wasn’t until that moment that the woman turned around, causing a sharp gasp to escape my lips.
She wasn’t some random woman. She wasn’t some stranger. She was none other than Carly, my best friend.
I felt like the oxygen had been sucked out of the room and replaced with something more dense and threatening. For what seemed like eternity, we just stood there, staring at each other in wide-eyed shock, both unable to say a thing.
“I—I can explain!” Jeff stammered out as he moved toward me, causing his still-hard erection to point straight at me, almost as if to ask me to look at it and acknowledge where it’d just been.
“Don’t touch me!” I screamed as I backed away from him. I glared at him, then Carly, and then back to him. “I don’t understand. How could you guys? My boyfriend? My best friend?” I drew in a sharp, uneven breath. “And on my fucking birthday?”
“Chloe,” Carly’s voice was soft, almost pleading, “I’m sorry. We didn’t intentionally want to hurt you…”
“Shut up, Carly! Just shut the fuck up! What was all that bullshit this morning about making sure I got my birthday sex from Jeff today, and how I should take the day off? And when I decide to take your advice, take the day off and come see him, I walk in on you fucking him! Did I miss something? Is your name Chloe? Did you turn thirty today? Is he your boyfriend?” By this point, I was fuming with rage.
“I—I didn’t know you’d show up, Chloe,” she pleaded. “I asked you this morning what your plans were today. You said you’d be at work. I didn’t plan for you to see this.”
I snorted at her attempt to reason with herself. “Oh, so that makes it okay for you to fuck your best friend’s boyfriend? Because you didn’t know I’d find out?”
I watched her open her mouth to respond but then she closed it without saying a word.
Jeff moved toward me again. This time, he grabbed one of my hands and forced me to face him.
“Chloe, I love you. This was just a mistake. It doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”
I stared at him in utter disbelief. “Do you really think this doesn’t change things between us? Do you really think I can just forget this happened—that I can forget everything I just saw? Because trust me, if I could scrub the images of you fucking my friend in the ass from my memory, I’d ask you to go get me some bleach and a scrub brush.”
“Please, Chloe. Baby?” He flashed me an innocent frown.
“Fuck you, Jeff! Don’t you ‘baby’ me!”
“Come on, let’s talk about this,” he persisted.
“Get your head out of your ass, Jeff—or her ass for that matter! Don’t you get it? There’s nothing to talk about. We’re over!” I yanked my hand from his grasp and ran for his front door. I ran as fast as I could until I reached the safety of my car. It wasn’t until I drove away from his building that the anger evaporated away and tears took its place as they streamed down my face.
I cried the entire way home. And as my mind raced with a million thoughts, there was one that seemed to resonate in my head more so than any other.
It’s karma. After almost a year of eluding it, it’s finally caught up to me, and I deserve every painful moment of it.
CHAP TER TWO
Present Day
I was on a bender.
I was on the reckless path leading to self destruction.
I was completely and utterly lost.
But the thing was, I didn’t care.
This was what I wanted.
This was the only way I knew how to mentally escape from everything.
This was how fucked up I was.
Tonight was yet another night I’d found myself at the neighborhood dive bar on Hollywood Boulevard. Much like the previous nights this week, I’d gotten home after work, absentmindedly ate whatever takeout I’d grabbed on the way home, took a few vodka shots in the kitchen—to save money, of course—before walking the four blocks to the bar to close out the night in a blurry haze.
It was just a little before nine when I got to the bar tonight. It was a Friday, so the place was much more crowded than the previous nights. More options and no work in the morning, I thought to myself. I walked straight to the bar when I arrived and waved the bartender over.
“Hey, there. Chloe, right?”
“Yup, that’s me. Hey…?” I tilted my head toward him slightly, signaling for him to remind me of his name. Who could possibly keep track of names when you were just a few drinks away from being three sheets to the wind?
“Steve.” He flashed me his perfect pearly whites as he wiped down the counter between us. Wannabe actor, I immediately thought. Living in Los Angeles, you could spot them from a mile away.
“Right. Hi, Steve.”
“So what are we having tonight?”
“A glass of vodka, dirty, and a shot of Bacardi 151, hold the judgment.”
He smirked at me. “So the usual?” I wasn’t sure why, but his smug comment bothered me.
I didn’t answer him. But instead of waiting for a response, he went to make them, clearly taking my silence as a yes. A minute later, he was back with my drinks.
“Tough day?” He placed the glasses in front of me and looked at me with half-interest.
“How about tough week?” I corrected him as I threw back the shot of 151 and chased it down with a healthy gulp of vodka.
“Whoa there.” Steve raised his eyebrows, his eyes widening slightly with surprise. “Honey, you’d better slow your roll if you want to remember anything in the morning.”
“Didn’t I say ‘hold the judgment?’” I challenged him, feeling agitated by how he looked at me with unease, like I was some unstable person who needed help. It’s not like he hasn’t seen me drink the previous nights.
Okay fine, so maybe I was a little unstable, and maybe I did need help. But he was the bartender. I was paying him to make me my drinks, not to be my shrink.
To my relief, Steve had no time to respond. A group of girls at the far end of the bar waved him down, and he seemed relieved to leave our conversation to go take their drink orders.
As I sat there and sipped my vodka, something from the corner of my eye caught my attention. A girl with electric-blue hair had just walked through the front door and was waving to a group of people sitting at a booth on the opposite end of the bar. It wasn’t this particular girl, nor the color of her hair that I was drawn to. It was the red heart-shaped lock secured around the strap of her messenger bag that had caused my body to tense up.
“Ugh. I don’t want to think about him,” I muttered under my breath as I peeled my eyes off the red lock. But the harder I tried to not think about him, the more thoughts of him that began to surface in the forefront of my mind. Jax. I downed the rest of my vodka, trying to drown out my thoughts. “I want to think about anything but him right now.”
“Why don’t you think about me instead?” came a voice from right behind me.
The closeness of his voice alarmed me momentarily, but I recovered quickly and turned to face the stranger who had just walked up to the bar and sat down on the stool next to mine. He flashed me a meaningful smile and I gave him a quick once-over before returning my gaze to my empty glass. He looked to be in his mid-twenties and was cute enough for my purposes.
“And why exactly should I think about you?” I challenged in my flirtatious voice.
“Well, a sexy lady like you shouldn’t be drinking alone and not thinking about me.”
I raised an eyebrow but didn’t turn back to look at him right away. I liked that he was cocky and had more confidence about himself than he should probably possess. He was exactly what I was looking for tonight.
When I finally turned to meet his salivating gaze, I knew by the way he looked at me that this was going to be too easy.
“Well, you’re wrong. I’m not drinking alone tonight.” For a second, his face fell. “—because I’m drinking with you.”
His face immediately lit up like a Christmas tree in December and he inched his seat closer to mine. There was a greedy lust in his eyes, and I knew to him, this was probably his lucky night, where a sleazy pick-up line actually worked for a change. But to me, I just needed to forget.
“So what would you like to drink?”
“Another glass of vodka, dirty.”
“Dirty,” he repeated. “I like that.” He smirked and licked his lips.
“I’m sure you do,” I shot back sarcastically.
“You’re feisty.” He laughed and motioned Steve over. I avoided Steve’s gaze, not wanting to see any hint of judgment in his eyes. I was on a good buzz, and I didn’t need it to be ruined by reality.
“So my name’s Brent. What’s yours?”
“C—” I paused for a second. “Carly.” I grinned over at him. All I wanted to do tonight was to forget about who I was. It seemed fitting in more ways than one to use her name.
When the drinks came, I grabbed mine and downed half the glass without bothering to wait for the guy.
He chuckled as he reached for his drink. “I love a woman who can appreciate a good, stiff drink.”
Feeling tired of this forced banter, I moved my hand under the bar counter. When I found the growing bulge in his jeans, I leaned over and whispered so only he could hear, “That’s not the only stiff thing I can appreciate.”
That not-so-subtle invitation was all it took. Minutes later, before he had a chance to even taste his drink, we were in the men’s bathroom where he had me pinned up against the wall in the last stall.
“Fuck me hard,” I demanded as his hands frantically removed my black mini-dress over my head and threw it over the stall door. “I want it rough and painful.”
“You’re a bad girl, aren’t you, Carly?” he growled in my ear, the heat of his breath sending a mixture of anticipation and disgust to run down my body. But I knew I couldn’t stop. I knew I wanted to stop thinking. I knew I needed this escape, now more than ever. I closed my eyes and felt the alcohol numbing my body as his hungry mouth pressed hard against mine and his hands began to massage my breasts. I gasped and moaned at all the appropriate moments, but my heart wasn’t in it. It was as if I was having an out-of-body experience and I was watching an up-close porno. My body didn’t resist as his moved down to my breasts, his tongue flicking my nipples as his hand disappeared down between my legs, his fingers exploring the depths of my wetness. I heard myself cry out in pleasure as his slightly-curled fingers moved in and out of me, causing my legs to buckle under me.
Then he pulled out of me and sucked my juices from his fingers as he dropped his pants and slipped on a condom. I could see from the hungry frenzy in his eyes that there was no turning back.
“You want it rough, baby?” His ragged voice was dark and threatening.
“Yes,” I heard myself beg.
Suddenly he lifted my legs off the ground, and I felt his erection rub against my entrance. “God, you’re so fucking wet,” he groaned in a hoarse voice.
I was about to respond, but it was too late. Instead, I cried out in both pain and pleasure as I felt him plunge all the way inside me, not holding back a single inch of him. I dug my nails deep into the muscular hardness of his back as each of his violent thrusts went deeper and harder than the last. Through my half-opened eyes, I saw his face twisted in pleasure as uncontrollable gasps and moans escaped my lips.
A few minutes later, we finally climaxed, taking me to the peak of pleasure and oblivion. In that split second, my mind was completely free from the shackles of my thoughts. But as quickly as it came, it also left, and as I pulled up my panties and adjusted the dress on my body, reality began to creep its way back into my consciousness.
“Fuck, that was incredible,” he growled in a husky voice as he leaned forward to nuzzle against my neck.
I cringed and averted his touch and reached for the bathroom-stall door.
“Where are you going with that sexy ass of yours?”
I felt a little dizzy and sick but turned back to face him. When our eyes met, I realized that I had just let a complete stranger fuck me in a disgusting bathroom stall, and it wasn’t until after our dirty act that I’d actually looked at him clearly for the first time.
Why did I do this, again?
To escape the pain you fell in your heart, I heard a small voice respond inside me.
But escaping the pain was short-lived. Not even the empty bliss of an orgasm could keep it at bay for too long. I felt my body waking up from the pain-numbing effects of ecstasy and I knew I needed to get out of here before things got worse.
As I started to pull the stall door open to leave, his hand found mine and pulled me back inside. Before I could pull away, he guided my hand down to his already-hard erection.
“How about another round?”
I looked away, cringing inside at what I had just done with this stranger. “Sorry. I gotta go, Bryan,” I said as I finally managed to pull my hand out of his grip. I quickly opened the door and stumbled out of the stall.
“It’s Brent.”
“What?” I looked back at him, realizing he had just said something to me. My mind was somewhere else—already running away from this mistake.
“My name is Brent, not Bryan.”
I sighed. “Look. I really don’t care. I’m not looking for anything serious here. If I was, I probably wouldn’t have let you fuck me in the men’s bathroom at a bar after meeting you for less than five minutes.” Shame consumed me when I realized that I had just slept with another man I had no feelings for.
“Oh, don’t be like that,” he teased. “We can still go back out to the bar, have a few more drinks, and then take the party back to my place for a night cap.”
“Trust me,” I said almost inaudibly as I turned away from him, “you don’t want anything to do with me.”
Regret gripped my insides as I ran out of the bathroom without waiting for him to respond.
Turning thirty had rattled me more than I wanted to admit. I wanted to blame it on the events of last week—blame Jeff for cheating on me, blame Carly for being a shitty friend, blame my luck for having it all happen to me on my thirtieth birthday. But I knew deep down there was something more to my unhappiness. I knew it had nothing to do with Jeff, or even Carly. I knew it was something that had been brewing over the past nine years. What happened with Jeff and Carly was only the trigger, the tip of the iceberg. But they weren’t the iceberg. They weren’t the root of the immense pain I’d bottled up inside, a pain that’d pressed against my chest, unable to find its release.
