Page 22 of Burned (Ignite #1)

“We’re not going to marriage counseling, Jordan. Our marriage is over. You got the separation papers, right?”

He huffed and crossed his arms in front of him. “You’re just pissed at me, I get it. I screwed up. We can just go up to the courthouse and tell them you made a mistake.”


“I didn’t make a mistake. For the first time in seventeen years, I did something right. I’m happy you’ve decided to go to rehab, but frankly, I don’t give a shit, Jordan. You need to leave. If you want, I’ll pack up your things and drop them off at your mom’s house, but you can’t just come over here whenever you want and think that it’s okay.”

He took a step towards me and, for a moment I wished I had never asked Collin to leave. Jordan has never physically hurt me before, but there’s always a first time for everything.

“Need I remind you again that this is my house, too? You can’t keep me out of my house. I already called the police and this house is half mine. I’m staying here and you can f**king leave,” he told me angrily.

He said those exact same words to me before, years ago when I tried to get him to leave. Like a coward, I believed his shit and I was the one that packed a bag and spent a week at a hotel. Then, just like always, he begged and pleaded and I came running back to him, the vicious cycle continuing over and over.

Until now. I finally grew a backbone and I’ll be damned if I’m leaving MY house.

“Fine,” I told him easily. “I’ll leave and you can have the house. You can also pay the mortgage, the electric bill, the gas bill, the property taxes, the home owner’s insurance and everything else that comes along with owning this house. In case you can’t do the math, that’s around twenty-five hundred dollars a month, give or take.”

The cockiness on his face immediately died and he stared at me in shock, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a fish gasping for its last breath.

I knew he couldn’t afford to pay the bills on his own. He couldn’t hold a job for more than a few months. His most recent bartending job wouldn’t even cover half of the mortgage alone. It was a low blow reminding him that his career potential was shot to shit but I didn’t care. I’d been paying the bills practically on my own for years. If he wanted the house and the responsibilities that came along with it, he could have it.

“You are making the biggest f**king mistake right now,” he tried to threaten.

“The only mistake I made was trusting you. Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson. Now either get out, or I’m going to call the police you supposedly spoke to and have them remove your ass.”

He threw in a few more idle threats about how he was never coming back if I let him walk out the door and a last ditch attempt at guilt by telling me he couldn’t believe I would ruin everything we had by sleeping with someone else. Thank God I didn’t let his words get to me and make me second-guess anything I had done with Collin.

“So, what are you going to do about Collin?” Phina asks, bringing me back from my thoughts.

With a heavy sigh, I push myself up from the couch. “I have no f**king clue. There’s still that little problem of me kicking him out of the house right after we had the best sex I’ve ever had. Oh, and jumping into whatever this thing is between us without knowing anything about him.”

Phina gets up from the couch stands next to me. “So? Get to know him. Ask him every single question you can think of until it’s all out in the open.”

“You didn’t see the look on his face when he left. He was hurt and he was angry and I don’t think he’s going to forgive me for pushing him away. He doesn’t even know what’s going on with Jordan and me. For all he knows, I took Jordan back after he left.”

Phina shrugs. “Well then, put on the hottest piece of lingerie you own, storm into the fire station and explain it to him. He’s a man, Finnley. Just show him your tits. That will distract him long enough for you to speak your piece.”

While I work out the details of the plan brewing in my head, Phina and I go into the kitchen, filling our arms with dishes, bowls, serving platters and coffee cups before making our way outside. In the middle of my driveway at ten o’clock on a Monday night, my best friend and I laugh and cheer as we break every single piece of wedding china I own. Sure, I’ve got a mess to clean up when we’re done, but I feel much better than I did an hour ago.

My heart is brimming with the need to discover everything there is to know about Collin and my body is burning with the desire to feel his hands on me again. I think about the black lace push-up bra, matching thong and garter belt with black lace thigh-highs that has been sitting in a Victoria’s Secret bag in the back of my closet for over a year

I think I finally found the perfect place to wear it. Hopefully, Collin lets me near him long enough to show it to him.

As I slam a salad bowl on the driveway and watch the pieces scatter, the anticipation of seeing him again, of having him inside me, is hard to ignore. I can already feel his hands sliding up my legs to unhook the garter belt and his face between my thighs, his warm breath seeping through the lace of my thong.

Please, God let this plan work.

I’ve already become addicted to him and I’m pretty sure there isn’t a rehab facility anywhere in this world that could cure me.

Chapter 12—Let the Sparks Fly

THE LOUD, EAR-PIERCING screech of a whistle next to my ear sends a bolt of pain straight to my temples. I turn to scowl at D.J. as he smirks at me, the whistle still dangling from his lips.

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