by Wynne Roman
“Nobody.”
“Was it Rye?” He narrows his eyes, so dark suddenly they’re more gray than blue.
“No! I kind of ended up here by mistake.”
“Mistake?” Knox shoves a wave of dark hair away from his face and gives me that piercing look that sees way too much.
“Not really mistake,” I correct as I drink my beer. Damn, but I always get nervous when my brother starts his protective thing. It’s so freaking unnecessary. Most of the time.
“I…meant to come here,” I add, “but I didn’t know about the party.”
“So you decided to stay.”
“Yes.”
The song changes to Guns N’ Roses, Welcome to the Jungle, one of Knox’s favorites. Maybe it’ll put him in a better mood. He lets out a sigh to go along with the frown.
Is he weakening?
“You know I don’t like you around this kind of shit.” He jerks his head toward the rest of the room.
“What, watching you and the guys hook up with as many girls as you can convince to sleep with you?”
His gaze sharpens. “Can’t say there’s much sleeping that goes on.”
“Okay.” I pissed him off. Fine. He’s pissing me off, too. “Then watching y’all hook up with as many girls as you can fuck.”
He sucks in a tight hiss. “Goddamn it, Bree!”
I stare at him with what’s supposed to be wide-eyed innocence. “You think I don’t know how this works? I’m not a kid anymore.”
“So?”
“Wycked Obsession is hotter than a Texas summer,” I snap, like I’m not proud as hell of the guys. “Wicked Is As Wycked Does is climbing the charts, they play Tonight on the radio every freaking hour, and you’re leaving for three months to tour with Edge of Return. You’re honest-to-God rock stars now, and you’re taking advantage of the—perks.”
“The perks.” Finally, Knox grins. “Wonder what the fans would say if they heard you say that.”
I shrug. “They wouldn’t care. All they want is to fuck one of you.”
His grin dies a sudden, ugly death. “Stop saying shit like that.”
“You shouldn’t have taught me the words, then.”
“Hey, baby.” A hand with long, pointy fingernails painted red slides around my brother’s chest. The rest of the girl follows, her skirt so short it barely covers her ass and top so low it hardly hides her nipples. “You said you were coming right back.”
“I need a couple of minutes.” Knox doesn’t even look at her.
“Who’s this?” she demands, her eyes narrow and angry. Her voice is sharp enough to cut steel.
“My sister.” Knox drops his gaze to hers. I can’t see his expression, but I know what it means when he says, “Maybe I’ll catch up with you later.”
So does she. “Knox…baby.”
“Later.”
She glares at me and slinks away. Later means never when my brother says it like that. She fucked up, and she knows it.
“Sorry.” I don’t sound it.
“You gonna tell me why you’re here?”
I sigh. Knox has a one-track mind about some things, and I learned long ago that I’m one of them.
“Later. I’ll tell you later when all this—” I wave one hand “—isn’t going on.”
“So you’re just going to hang out here?”
I take a drink of my beer—a long one this time—and give him a look that says, Listen to me! For once in your life, just listen. “Look, Knox. You can kick me out. I’ll sit outside on the curb. Sleep in the bushes. Whatever. You’re stuck with me tonight, and we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“Bree—”
“Baby girl!”
That’s my other nickname. All the guys call me that, even though I’m not that much younger than they are. Ajia’s the oldest in years, but they all have worlds of experience over me, so I guess the name fits. It doesn’t matter. I’ve never been able to convince them to stop using it.
“Noah.”
I grin at the drummer. His girls trail behind him, looking less pissed than Knox’s groupie. Maybe they don’t care so much since they’re already looking like a threesome.
“I wondered if you’d show up.” He grins back.
“She wasn’t invited,” Knox puts in.
“Asshole,” I say just as Noah offers his own opinion.
“Don’t be a fucker, man. You know Bree-baby is always welcome.”
“Thanks, Noah.” I give him a big hug and slide a shitty smile in my brother’s direction.
“Uh, the…other guys know you’re here?” asks Noah.
I shake my head. “No. Don’t think so. I saw Zayne and Rye. Where’s Ajia?” I ask as casually as I can.
Noah shrugs, but he doesn’t make eye contact with me. I tell myself it isn’t because he suspects how I feel about Ajia, but a part of me is afraid he guessed. I’ve been wondering that for a while now.
“Haven’t seen him lately,” he finally says.
Knox stares at me, and I know what he’s thinking. The same thing I’m thinking. If Ajia isn’t around, then he’s off somewhere with…someone. Some chick. A slut, I insist to myself, whether it’s true or even fair. All I can think of is him kissing another girl, touching her, fucking her.
My breath catches and the bottom drops out of my stomach.
“Look, you guys go do…whatever.” I force the words out, but they come easier as I speak. “It’s your party. Just ignore me. I’ll mingle, and if I get bored, I’ll go to the music room. You won’t even know I’m here.”
The music room is actually the garage, but the guys put some soundproofing in there, keep most of their instruments there, added some furniture and a window AC unit. It’s gotta be cooler in there, and I won’t have to worry about turning around to find Ajia sucking face with some slut.
“You sure about that, baby girl?”
I smile at Noah for trying to makeup for Knox’s shitty attitude. He’s protective, too, but in a different way. If nobody gets hurt, if it’s legal—or close enough—and everybody involved is an adult, Noah’s all for it. My being here pretty much fits all his criteria.
“Go on.” I step from in between the guys. “I’m going to get another beer. Don’t let me cramp your style.” And then I just walk away.
For the next couple of hours, I work my way through the crowd. I talk to a few of the guys’ friends, some I know from school and others from the club circuit back when Wycked Obsession played every damn gig they could get. Most of the girls ignore me, but I know a few of them. I even get a chance to talk to Zayne and Rye…and then finally I see Ajia.
He stands across the room from me—with someone. An octopus, I think with a look that should disintegrate her on the spot. She has her hands all over him. I’m sure as hell not going up to him now, but I’m torn. I don’t want him to see me like this, all brokenhearted and aching for him, but another part of me wants him to notice me. He doesn’t.
He’s totally preoccupied with her.
Asshole. I’m pissed off and sick, even knowing I have no right to be. Don’t forget what you’ve always known, I remind myself. Ajia’s flat-ass fucking hot, almost pretty in a handsome sort of way. His features are fine and perfect. His hair is wavy, like Knox’s, and they both wear it long, past their shoulders. Ajia’s is a golden blond color, his eyes a caramel brown. The combination is unexpected and alluring.
He’s tall, maybe 6’2”, and muscular. He doesn’t have Noah’s upper body, but Ajia works out and looks pretty damned impressive. He’s also tattooed, sleeves on his arms, part of his chest, and some stuff on his back. Knox told me they’d all added the new album title somewhere on their bodies, but I haven’t seen any of the finished work yet.
I have to force myself to look away. No way can I talk to him now. Not with Ursula hanging off him. A smile makes me feel only slightly better, but I like comparing the fangirl to the villain from The Little Merma
id. Maybe it’s childish, but I don’t care.
It’s a distraction, but I force myself to listen to Mötley Crüe’s Kickstart My Heart, Poison’s Every Rose Has Its Thorn, Whitesnake’s Here I Go Again, and Warrant’s Heaven. I’ve heard them all—dozens of times over the years—along with Classic Rock, Blues, 90s Grunge, Alt. Rock, and Indie Rock. In fact, I can’t hear any goddamn song at all without associating the music with Knox, Ajia, and Wycked Obsession.
Hell, I’ve spent the last two years at the Butler School of Music, going for a degree in Composition because of the band. How fucked up is that?
By the time one o’clock rolls around, I’m done. My emotions are raw, and I never wanted to be a part of the whole party scene in the first place. It only got worse after seeing Ajia like that. Knox made me feel like shit, too, and no matter how hard I try to forget, the thing with Gabe still preys on my mind. I need to get away, sack out in the music room and just get some sleep so I can talk to Knox tomorrow.
The music room is cooler and quieter. I turn off the lights and stretch out on the ratty old couch the guys dumped there. I wish I’d brought a toothbrush or looked for an extra one here, but no way am I fighting that crowd again. I’ll have to make do until morning.
I don’t expect to fall asleep easily, but I must have. One minute there’s silence, and then suddenly there are noises. Realizing I’m awake, I lie quietly, listening and hoping it isn’t a rat or something. Doesn’t matter that I grew up in Texas; I hate that kind of thing!
No, it isn’t a rat, I decide. Not the four-legged kind, anyway. The noises aren’t right for that. It’s people, and they’re—
“What the ever-loving fuck?”
The words are out before I can stop them. Holy hell! The last thing I want is to be an audience for some couple getting it on.
The overhead light snaps on, and I get my first glimpse of the spectacle. A girl’s on her knees with some guy’s dick in her mouth. She’s sucking, moving her head back and forth and making soft, greedy noises low in her throat. She pulls back, blinking and giving me an unobstructed view of a long, thick, hard cock that looks way more impressive than anything I’ve ever imagined.
“Ajia?” she snaps, stroking the length of his cock once, twice, but it’s too late. My gaze jerks upward and I stare into his face. His caramel eyes look odd, sharp and piercing, as always, and yet heavy with desire. His gaze catches mine and he blinks.
I’m up off the couch in an instant, suddenly on fire and not in a good way. “Oh, Jesus.”
They stand between me and the door, but I can’t stay there. I try to keep from looking down again, but I can’t help it. Ajia’s dick is still hard, and long, well-manicured fingers still stroke him.
“Jesus.” I say it again, and somehow I can finally move.
“Bree,” he says in a hoarse voice as I brush past him on my way to the door. I cut it too close, and my shoulder rubs against his.
“Jesus.” I’m begging by this time, and then finally—somehow—I’m on the other side of the door.
Ajia and…that girl. She was sucking him off. Stroking him off. I want to close my eyes, but I’m afraid to. Afraid that’s all I’ll be able to see. Where else can I look? It’s all there, and it won’t go away.
“What the ever-loving fuck?” I whisper to myself again.
“Baby girl?” Noah suddenly stands in front of me.
“Hey.” I want to smile, but I can’t.
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. I just interrupted Ajia getting sucked off by some chick and it’s breaking my freaking heart. I can’t say it.
“I just need a couple of minutes.” I clear my throat. “It hasn’t been the greatest night.” That is an understatement—but why did my voice have to sound so goddamn weak?
“You—”
Noah breaks off when the door behind me opens. Shit. I should have kept moving. Why didn’t I? I really don’t want to do this now.
“Bree?” Ajia’s voice is soft.
I don’t look back; I don’t have to. It’s all on Noah’s face. The recognition. The understanding. The…sorrow? Yeah. He knows how I feel. How I really feel about Ajia.
Noah hauls me against his chest and gives me a hug. It’s comforting, and I hug him back.
“Go to my room,” he says against my hair. “Sleep in my bed tonight. I’ll take the couch.”
I want to laugh, but it won’t come. Instead, I pull back from him. “That’s sweet, but you know you don’t fit on the couch.”
His eyes crinkle with a smile, and he winks at me. “You inviting me to spend the night with you, baby girl?”
“You wish.” Somehow, I manage a smile.
He nods. “Okay. Go on, then.” He gives me a little push, like I’m a kid or something.
Oh, that’s right. The band mascot. Like their pet. Their baby girl.
A sad place twists inside me, but it isn’t Noah’s fault. It’s nobody’s fault but my own, longing for shit that can never be mine. Like some sort of freaking masochist.
I reach out for a quick squeeze of his hand. “Thanks, Noah.”
“Don’t mention it.”
I walk off without ever looking at Ajia, and then I hear a grunt from behind me. “What the fuck, Ajia?” Noah’s voice sounds sharp, like a whip. “Just once, couldn’t you learn to keep your dick in your pants?”
CHAPTER TWO
AJIA
“Shut the fuck up, Noah.” I bite the words off, my jaw clenched, and turn to the girl next to me. Hailey? Harley? “I’m gonna have to take a raincheck, honey. Something came up.”
“Yeah. I know just what that is.” She rubs her hand over my crotch and smiles. It’s probably supposed to be sexy. It isn’t.
“No.” I push her away. “Something else. Band shit.”
“Was it that little bitch who interrupted?”
“Bree’s not a bitch,” I snap. Defending her comes automatically. It’s that way for all of us. Bree is…special. Always has been.
“Okay. Well, I’m not really into threesomes, you know. You got the whole package here, baby.” What’s Her Name throws her arms wide and shoves her chest out like she’s trying to remind me of her fake tits. “If you want her, too, I guess I can put up with a lot to fuck Ajia Stone.”
God, she even says my name wrong. It’s pronounced Asia, like the continent. The spelling of my name has pretty much pissed me off for most of my life. I didn’t choose it. Can’t somebody get it fucking right?
The rest of it…I don’t even go there. Chicks always want to fuck the rock star. Doesn’t matter which one. Front men and guitarists like Knox and me are always targets, but everybody in the band gets more than our share of pussy. It’s like a goddamn game or something, and I’m so fucking sick of it.
So why do I keep playing?
But I know why. It’s because I’m such a piece of shit. I don’t deserve anything better. And now Bree saw this chick sucking my cock. Jesus-fucking-Christ.
“Look, sorry.” I don’t even try to be nice. She called Bree a bitch. “It’s not gonna happen tonight. I got shit to take care of.” I stalk off without a look back.
“Where you going?” Noah calls after me.
“I told you! To take care of shit.”
He ought to fucking know. We rented a four-bedroom place in Austin after the last tour. A place to share, to practice, write music, and figure out what the fuck we’re doing. Our first album took off kind of unexpectedly, and then we started touring to promote it. We didn’t have a lot of time to think or even breathe on tour, and we finally got the last six months to put together the album that became Wicked Is As Wycked Does.
We’d written most of the songs. This was time to polish and record. Time to plan. Time to get to know our manager and the people at our record label. We did all that and more, and day after tomorrow, we’re leaving on tour again. Or is it tomorrow already? Whenever, we’ve got three months across t
he South, West, and Midwest.
Three months before we’ll be anywhere near Austin again. I can’t leave Bree with her last image of me being sucked off by some random chick.
Noah’s words come back to me. Just once, couldn’t you learn to keep your dick in your pants?
It beats the alternative. If whipping my cock out for every girl who’s interested keeps me from thinking about—well…old crap that can’t be changed, then I’m all for it. Besides, it’s the perfect description of my life.
Ajia Stone, fucker.
I stop in front of Noah’s door and give it a quick tap. I don’t wait to be invited in.
The room is dim, the only light coming from a lamp on the bedside table. It creates a lot of shadows. Maybe that’s good. I won’t have to look Bree in the eye.
She’s sitting on the end of the bed, staring at the floor. Sad. Lost maybe. Did I do that to her? I’ve always known she had a little crush on me, but that can’t be enough to make her look like that. Can it?
“Bree.”
“Uhm.” It takes a minute before she looks at me. In my general direction, anyway. “Hey.”
“You okay?”
Her gaze slides away. “Embarrassed, but I’ll live.”
I sit next to her, almost close enough for our hips to touch. Too much, maybe, but I want—need—her to be comfortable around me again. “I’m sorry you saw that.”
She nods but doesn’t look at me.
“I didn’t know you were there.” Lame fucking excuse.
Her laugh is cut off, a kind of choked sound. “Yeah, I know. You were…busy. It’s funny.” She doesn’t sound amused. “I thought the garage’d be safer than the bedrooms.”
“Bree…” Fuck. How can I tell her I don’t bring random hook-ups back to the place I sleep? “Kitten—”
“Don’t worry. I know I wasn’t supposed to be here. Knox already bitched me out.” She sounds hurt. “I didn’t mean to crash, but—”
“Ajia, you fucker!” Knox barges through the door. So Noah tattled.
“Shut up, Knox. I’m talking to Bree right now. I’ll deal with you later.”
“You’ll deal with me right fucking now. Leave my sister out of this. She’s—”