Chapter 1

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.

The year I turned nineteen.

Some thugs cornered me in an alley.

That was when he showed up and saved me.

"So pure and innocent? But you've been eyeing my abs for a while now."

I'd never forget the look in his eyes when he said that.

The very next day, he pinned me against the wall in the club bathroom, breathing raggedly as he whispered, "Be good. Look at me."

Afterward, he always liked to ask why I was with him.

I'd tell him, "I'm just after your body."

He'd smirk, all smug. "I'll keep you hooked for life."

Maybe it was from sleeping together so many times.

I couldn't even tell anymore if it was him I craved...

Or just his body.

I caught his wandering hand.

Holding it together, fighting not to fall apart.

I flashed a sultry smile. "Don't worry, you're good in bed, but not unforgettable."

Jackson squeezed my fingers, his eyes dropping to meet mine.

"Then let's end this, Essie.

"I'm not young anymore. Can't keep messing around. It's time to settle down—we're through."

His words hit me like a punch; I just froze.

For ten years, I'd convinced myself we were in love.

That we were a real couple.

That eventually, we'd just end up married.

But here he was, saying he needed to get serious, and it was over.

Turned out, I was nothing more than his wild fling from his younger days.

I turned away, my eyes filling with tears.

I blinked them back furiously, scattering the blur.

Forcing a casual smile, I got up to leave.

But Jackson hooked an arm around my waist, pulling me back into his embrace.

Like always, he carried me to the bathroom.

His hands were gentle as he washed me, careful and thorough.

"My family's arranged a match for me. She's the marrying type."

Ah, so that was it—he'd got someone else on his mind now.

I shut my eyes, forcing the tears back down.

At twenty-eight, I refused to let him see me crumble.

Refused to let him pity me, like I couldn't survive without him.

Twenty-eight-year-old Essie had learned to bow out gracefully.

When I opened my eyes, the tears were gone. I smiled and asked, "Is she as wild as I am?"

Didn't he prefer them wild? Young girls were usually so naive, just like I was back then.

He shook his head, his tone flat.

"She's not like you at all. She's clean, pure—not wild to the bone like you."

My nails bit into my palm as I laughed out loud.

"Jackson, you're ridiculous.

"You turned me into this yourself, and now you call me dirty?"

He was the one who'd stripped away my innocence, whispering in my ear again and again, "You're too pure, but I like them wild.

"Don't worry, I'll teach you, bit by bit."

Ten years—from dorm rooms to offices, kitchens to cars...

He loved my innocent facade hiding the slut underneath.

But now, he was pinning me to the wall with words like "clean" and "pure," like I was some kind of disgrace.

Bitterness rose in my throat, my heart aching sharply.

I looked away from him, staring at the hickeys and marks scattered across my skin.

What did he mean, "She's clean, she's pure—not wild to the bone like you"?