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For ten years, I was the wildest woman in Jackson Brewer's life. But when he decided to get married, I wasn't the bride. "Is she as wild as me?" I asked. Jackson shook his head. "No, she's nothing like you. "She's clean, pure— "not like you, wild to the bone." I walked away without looking back. Then I turned around and slept with his buddy. Jackson was getting married. But not to me. The night before we split, he went at me like a maniac, pulling out every trick we'd perfected over our ten years together. I knew his rhythm inside and out—I could even guess what position he'd want next. "Be good," he growled, biting the back of my neck, his voice edged with fury. "Just like old times—the wilder, the better." Once he was finally spent, I lazily met his eyes, my voice raspy. "What, knocking out next month's quota early?" In all our ten years, I'd never seen him this frenzied and out of control. Jackson pulled me close, his fingers idly tracing circles on my waist. "Essie, you said you only craved my body, right? "So ending things like this—it doesn't count as me using you and tossing you aside, does it?" He tossed it out so casually, but it made my heart skip a beat.