Filthy Little Games (Sweet Sinners #2)

Chapter 1

THE HEAVY HEART

QUINTON

I have spent my entire life surrounded by cheaters and liars, whether that be in business or in love.

I’ve seen the destruction those evils can bring.

It’s been years since I vowed to never let a tale of muddled truth slip through my lips, and yet here I sit.

Across from the biggest lie I’ve ever told.

Or have yet to tell. The omission of truth is just as sinister.

And only God knows that I am a sinner.

Emery’s head rests on the curved ivory walls of the jet, her eyelids fluttering from emotional exhaustion. My grip on my whiskey glass tightens as I watch her sleep. As I watch her breath. As I watch that heart pump oxygen to her brain, blood through her veins.

Christ, they look nothing alike. Different hair, different eyes. They act nothing alike. They speak nothing alike.

And yet her heart is one that I have loved with every fiber of my being. Her heart broke mine. Her heart was stolen from me twice before. By the same man. And it won’t happen again.

She can never know. He will never know.

Alison died that night. He killed her.

But her heart? Her heart is still here. Inside Emery. Beating. Alive. Ready for a second chance. A chance to make the right decision.

But if he finds out…

If she finds out…

No.

I shake my head, banishing the ill-fated thoughts from my overstimulated brain.

Christ, how is this even happening? How cruel is the world that allows for such trauma?

Was one time not enough? Was one heartbreak not enough?

Why bring her back to me? Why now? It’s been three years, and I’ve only just forgotten the pain.

Only just let it go. And now it’s back. More powerful than ever before.

My desire for her. The deep-seated need to make her mine.

All over again.

Refilling the glass with yet another pour of liquid therapy, I sit back down and stare out the window, endless darkness in the distance.

From the moment I saw Emery, I knew there was something special about her.

Familiar. But it was a warped kind of familiarity.

Nowhere near the simple kind of pull that I felt with Alison.

No. It was far more complex. Complicated.

It doesn’t make sense. It was Alison’s light nature that drew me in.

Emery is not light. She is heavy and full and thick with substance.

I was barely strong enough to lift a feather. How am I to handle a stone?

A quiet murmur sounds from Emery’s lips, and I snap my head toward her as we begin the first round of a game we’ve both once lost before. I shan’t lose again.

“How was your sleep, darling?” I ask, cocking my head, mesmerized by her soft, weary features. “Did you have pleasant dreams?”

“Pleasant enough.” She yawns, and stirs in her seat, a weak, fragile smile barely reaching me. She glances out the window, nose scrunched up. “Where are we right now?”

“Almost in Geneva.”

I don’t let her guarded countenance deter me from changing seats. I brace myself for her to inch away from me as I sit beside her. Emery’s gaze slowly flits to the lack of space between us, and before I have a chance to move over, she releases a tiny sigh and gives in to the comfort I offer.

I’m taken aback as her head falls on my shoulder, and I can suddenly feel the weight of her tortured soul.

“Is he still calling?” she asks in a soft tone, fiddling with the hem of the throw blanket.

“No. I told him you’d call after the New Year and then I blocked his number.” I reach out and cup her busy fingers. She needs to relax. She needs to let go. “He won’t bother us anymore.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with this,” she sighs. “Maybe I should’ve talked to him in person instead of just disappearing. I feel like a coward right now.”

“You don’t owe him anything,” I say, attempting to conceal my venom. “He made his bed.”

“Still.” She expels a labored breath. “He’s going to come looking for me. You know he is. I didn’t give him closure. Or at least not enough.”

“Stop that.” Emery tilts her head up as I state with utter certainty, “Do not worry yourself, darling. He doesn’t know where we’re going. I’ve made sure of it.”

“How?”

“The fundraiser is usually held in London,” I say, quickly adding before she can protest, “But this year it’s at a Swiss resort we used to frequent in my youth.” I offer her a warm smile. “It’ll all be fine, darling. As I said, he doesn’t know where we’re going.”

“I’m sure he’d find a way,” she mutters, a small scowl on her face.

“He’s done it before.” Before I can pry, she blurts out, “God, this is all so fucked up.” More fucked up than she knows.

“Everything was fine before he showed up. I was…” She noticeably winces.

“I was fine. And now?” She huffs, looking around the private aircraft.

“And I’m now I’m on a fucking jet running off to God knows where.

Oh, and I don’t have a job anymore, so that’s great, too. ”

“Meille Resort.” I offer her a playful grin, hoping it’ll lighten the mood.

“That’s where we’re going. It’s a private ski resort in the Alps.

” She rolls her eyes. A good sign. “Oh, come on, little Emery, try and look at the positives here. You get to spend the next ten days surrounded by beautiful mountains and pristine views.” My tone sours.

“Cavanaugh and his endless parade of bullshit will be waiting for you in New York, but for now? Perhaps try and enjoy your time away from all the chaos.”

“So fucked…” Emery whispers to herself, nibbling on her bottom lip, gaze floating to her hand.

“He proposed to me, you know? A few days ago.” I instantly stiffen in my seat.

Emery shakes her head, letting out a quiet, almost maniacal laugh.

“He’s such a fucking liar. I asked him. I asked him point blank if he was keeping anything from me.

And he said no. He lied to me so easily.

As if it were nothing.” She scoffs. “Thank God I didn’t say yes. ”

My brow perks up. Cavanaugh left out some vital information. So she’s not his fiancée. Interesting. “You didn’t say yes?”

She tilts her head up, and all I can look at are those pink parted lips of hers. Lips I am so desperate to consume. Her teeth sink into the soft flesh, and my cock stirs awake. Christ. Sitting here was a bad idea. I need her to come to me. I need her to make that choice herself.

“No, but I thought about it. I just… He could see the future together so clearly, but me? It was…blurry. But any kind of future always seemed blurry to me, so who knows? If he didn’t royally destroy my trust, then maybe I would’ve said yes.

” She hitches a shoulder. “Maybe it’s for the best.” She smiles to herself.

“I don’t think I’m very good wife material anyway. ”

“I’m sure you’d make a terrific wife,” I say, clearing my throat. “Given you find the right man to be your husband.”

Emery gives me a smirk. “I doubt it.” She shifts beside me, and I reign in a grunt as her hand grazes my knee, her palm resting on my thigh so haphazardly. “I’ve never been a, uh, relationship person before.”

“No?” I ask through my teeth, resisting the urge to lean into her touch. She must sense my arousal because her entire demeanor changes.

And I don’t like it. Not like this.

“Don’t get me wrong, though. I tried. I tried to do the whole girlfriend thing before.

I wasn’t very good at it.” Emery subtly adjusts the blanket, so it’s draped over both our laps.

Her scheming gaze floats into the distance while her fingers, her curious little fingers, draw tiny circles on my thigh.

“The loving someone part, that is.” My breath catches in the back of my throat when she whips those sultry-glazed eyes at me, and I know exactly what she’s thinking.

Emery tilts her head, licking her lips. “But the other stuff?” A devious grin spreads on her face. “That’s where I excel.”

Blood rushes to my cock despite the fact that I know I’m being used. That I’m just a temporary distraction. She’s looking at me like I’m a means to an end. A dirty little feel-better-quick scheme.

“What’s wrong, Doctor?” she asks, all breathy and flushed. “You’re awfully quiet.”

I suck in a deep breath, trying to regain my composure, but her words and the way she looks at me fucking short circuits my rational processing skills.

"I can’t help but think your wandering little hands are merely a coping mechanism," I reply, trying to maintain a semblance of control. "Despite what you may think, darling, I know when I’m being used.”

"Used?” she smirks, her fingers still playing with my thigh, teasingly inching higher. “That’s such an ugly word, Doctor.”

“The truth is often quite ugly, little Emery,” I rasp, the muscles in my thighs clenching from her faint, calculated touch. “It’s why some people choose to live their lives in lies. It’s much more aesthetic that way.”

“Some people?” she asks through her dark lashes. “But not you, right?”

“I prefer to live in the light, darling,” I say, my pulse quickening as her fingers dance a maddening path up my thigh. “I’m not a fan of falsities.”

She grins, reaching my growing cock. “True or false, Doctor?” she asks, tilting her head. “Are you hard right now?”

I grit my teeth. “That’s not—”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” she asks. “Isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for all these months?” She pauses, cheeks rosy as she adds, “Don't you want me?”

Bloody hell.

“You’ve recently gone through something that most would deem traumatic,” I reply, voice strained and deep. “It wouldn’t be right to take advantage of you when you’re in such a delicate state of mind.”

“Is that your professional opinion, Doctor?” She chuckles at my attempt to delay our inevitable collision, with no end in sight to her advances.

With two fingers, she traces the outline of my prick, the teasing pressure making my skin flush.

“Hmm, it appears your Hippocratic oath betrays you.” The temptation becomes unbearable.

"Tell me to stop, Doctor. Use your words and tell me to stop.”

I swallow hard, unable to form a goddamn sentence. I’m being tested. This has got to be some cosmic fucking test. All my fantasies. All my dreams. Every time that I’ve laid my eyes on her, I wished for this moment. And yet it feels wrong. It feels twisted.

Emery leans in closer, her breath warm against my cheek. "Tell me to stop.” Her lips graze my skin, and I ache to kiss her, to taste her. “Quickly, Doctor.” Her voice drops to a husky whisper. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

She’s using me. I know this. She’s using me like a fiend. Like a little addict who needs to get her fix. Fine. If she wants to play this game, then I’ll give her something she won’t ever recover from. I’ll hook her, and she won’t have a choice but to keep coming back for more.

A man is only as strong as his weakest desire.

And so, I say, “On your knees.”