Wycked Crush (Wycked Obsession Book 1)

by Wynne Roman

  “Fuck.” It’s like an echo all around me. Even Zayne, who looks like death warmed over, rouses enough to curse.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” I snap, suddenly sick of the whole damn farce. “Y’all were there, too. Knox? You were busy making out with some naked groupie. Noah, you and Zayne and Ajia were judging a bunch of Barbies in pink bikinis. Rye, you were playing the drums, crashing the symbols every time a new Barbie stepped up. And me?” I pin every one of them with a furious gaze. “I was fighting off my goddamn stepfather, who wanted me to give him a blowjob. I yelled and yelled, but you were all too fucking busy with your chicks to pay attention to me.”

  “Jesus.”

  I think it’s Rye who said it, but I keep talking. “So just fucking excuse me, Knox Gallagher, if I needed somebody to hold me and tell me they’d protect me from that asshole. And forgive me for sleeping and dreaming in the middle of the fucking night when you were too busy with your fuck buddy so that your friend had to comfort me. And for God’s sake, I’m so fucking sorry that I was tired and emotional and we somehow fell asleep next to each other.”

  The more I talked, the more shit came out. Stuff I hadn’t really thought of—yet, anyway, since I hadn’t had a chance to process anything—but the whole asinine situation began to blow itself open as I defended myself against Knox’s stupidity.

  And when the fuck did my hand end up in Ajia’s? Did he do it, or did I?

  He leans in, effectively blocking me from seeing Knox. “You okay, baby?” His fingers tighten around mine.

  I blink and look at my lap, away from the intensity of his whiskey-colored eyes. I see the conflict there, I understand it, but I see something else, too. Things have changed between us, and he’s not pretending. Not now, at least.

  What does that mean? I can’t answer.

  “Bree?”

  I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and nod to Ajia. He gives my hand a squeeze, then lets go and leans back. I stare at my brother.

  “What?” I demand.

  “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

  I nod.

  “And you still didn’t apologize,” Ajia points out in a frosty voice, apparently remembering that Knox had never complied earlier.

  I shake my head. “I don’t care so much about that.” I fix a glare on my brother. “I care that you don’t want me to have an ordinary life for a normal nineteen-year-old woman.”

  He flushes. “I just want you to be safe.”

  I take a breath. “And you think if I had slept with Ajia—as in sleeping with meaning sex—” I can’t call it fucking right now “—I wouldn’t have been safe?”

  Knox’s eyes bug wide, and I hear a sharp grunt from Ajia. I don’t look at him or Noah or Rye, who seems suddenly stiff beside me.

  “Bree…” Knox can’t seem to say anything else, and he shakes his head.

  “Listen, sweetie.” I try to soften my approach. “I’m a big girl now. I don’t want to be twenty years old and sneaking around with some guy behind my brother’s back. Or trying to avoid my pervert stepfather. I’m just an ordinary girl with an extraordinary brother and some really extraordinary friends.” I open my hands to indicate the room. “And with all that, I wanna be normal.”

  They all have the deer-in-headlights look, and it’s Rye who finally takes my hand. “We all love you.”

  I squeeze his fingers. “And I love you, too.”

  “We act like a bunch of adolescent fucking douches.” He’s probably the only one with the balls to look me in the face when he says it. Maybe even the only one to see that part of it.

  “Pretty much.” I smile. “And not just about me.”

  I stand and look at them all. “We better all be good here, because I’m done. Y’all know what happened, you don’t have to beat the fuck out of Ajia, and you’re on official notice that I’m a normal almost-twenty-year-old woman who intends to have a normal life. Even if that means…” I pause deliberately and then say with a wicked wink, “Sex!

  “Now, I’m outta here!”

  Nobody says a word as I leave. I head straight for my bedroom to…I don’t know. I just needed to get away from all that protective male testosterone. Plus, I want to look at Ajia, touch him, talk to him, and none of that is possible right now.

  Maybe that’s a good thing, I decide as I turn to straighten up my suitcase and see his boots still in a heap next to my bed. I gather them up and put them outside the door in a tidy pair. Maybe I ought to think about what happened—and what I want from here on out.

  What’s there to think about? a voice inside me screeches. You want to be with him—and go a lot farther than third base!

  Do I really need to think about it anymore? Haven’t I already overthought it to the point of insanity?

  I want Ajia. He wants me. At least some part of him wants me. And the rest of him doesn’t like it.

  That’s easy to see. Even understand, I suppose. The hard part is finding out what he’s willing to do about it.

  I know how far I’m willing to go. I’ve always known, I suppose, even when I knew I had no chance in hell of ever making him see me as anything except his friend’s baby sister. And yet some tiny, ridiculously determined spark of desire must have found a safe place to hide deep within me, because hope never completely died somehow.

  Now, here I am. Shit happened. Icky shit. Shit that hurt. But somehow, it’s changed things between Ajia and me…and I don’t know what the hell we’re going to do about it.

  CHAPTER 14

  AJIA

  I don’t get a chance to really talk to Bree for a day or two. We see each other but we’re never alone, and neither of us can say what we need to in front of anybody else. Are the others deliberately sticking around us, or is it just normal on-tour closeness? I can’t be sure, so I try to ignore it. Even when Knox watches me with a creepy, thoughtful look on his face.

  Asshole.

  He doesn’t really deserve that. Not in this case. I did have my mouth on his sister’s pussy, my fingers inside her. But I haven’t forgiven him for saying some of the shit he did—and for not apologizing to Bree.

  You rushed in to fuck her awake?

  I didn’t, but we came close enough.

  And what are you going to do about it now? Maybe you ought to be giving some thought to that shit!

  Yeah, maybe I should, but I don’t. Not really. Not when the band is around every fucking second. Through sound check, being onstage, during the show itself, or on the tour bus. Later, when I’m alone—really alone—I probably won’t be able to think about anything else. But right now, I have to think about anything but her.

  It’s a little bit of a relief that Bree acts like she feels pretty much the same way.

  We’re all glad to leave Phoenix behind, and L.A. is a decent alternative. We’re doing a few shows in Southern California, as well as meeting with the label and doing some other industry stuff. Interviews, a photo shoot, and, I’ve heard, a couple of parties. Not afterparties, but label shit.

  Fuck.

  The fall-out of our last party is too fresh.

  We’re in individual hotel rooms this time, but nobody asks why. It’s always different in every hotel. As long as we get time out of the bus, we’re happy. Especially me. Time to think—and a chance for Bree and me to talk alone.

  The photo shoot is first on our schedule, and we take a car to some photographer’s loft. Bree stays at the hotel, but I don’t know what she’s doing while we’re gone. Knox tried to make her promise to not leave the hotel. She turned her back on him and walked away.

  The photographer shoots the whole band first, and then I’m first up alone. I’m dressed in black leather pants and a white shirt that’s kind of like the one I sometimes wear onstage. This one’s bigger, blousy they call it, and it streams out behind me from the big fan they turn on. It blows my fricking hair around, too, and I hate that. And I’m barefoot! Christ.

  They have
me move in all kinds of poses. The only thing that gives me the ability to pretend to be what they’re after is that they play Wycked Obsession music. It gets me in touch with the songs, feelings from writing and recording. Guess it works, because they act like I’m some kind of cover model or something.

  God, what bullshit.

  It’s a big loft, and one side is set up with a bed and all kinds of gauzy white shit. That’s next. Shirt off, pants unbuttoned, and they want me to stick my hand under the waistband like I’m touching myself. Jesus. Mr. Johnson is not getting turned on by this.

  I know they do shit like this. I’ve seen pictures. I’ve learned to pose. But I don’t really like this sexy stuff. It’s kind of fucked up in my mind. Yeah, I know women find me attractive for whatever fucking reason and I hook up with ‘em, but I don’t go looking for it. I don’t encourage them to come after me, and that’s what this feels like.

  Look at me, girls. I’m the vocalist. Wanna fuck me? Here I am!

  Nope. Not really into it.

  Especially when I can’t stop thinking about Bree.

  We go through more shots, more poses, more fake expressions, and finally I’m done. Get used to it! I tell myself, but I hated the whole thing when I posed alone.

  Knox is next, and I head over to where Rye sits waiting his turn. I drop into the chair next to him. “Where’re the others?”

  “Zayne’s in wardrobe and Noah’s in makeup.”

  I snort. They change it up for individuals and close-ups. “What a load of shit.”

  Rye grins. “What? You didn’t like playing Mister Hot-and-Sexy-Come-Fuck-Me-Rock-Star?”

  I flip him off. “Your turn’s coming, asshole.”

  He laughs. “Nah. I’m the keyboardist. Nobody pays attention to the guys in the back.”

  “Bullshit.” I shake my head. “You’re the sad, tortured one. Chicks love that.”

  He kind of jerks his head to one side and narrows his eyes. “Who said that?”

  “Bree.”

  He keeps staring at me. Finally, he shakes his head and shrugs. “All that shit you two said. That true?”

  I stare back. “Yeah.”

  “You fuck her?”

  “You asked that before. Answer’s the same.”

  There must have been something in my voice. Don’t know what, but Rye blinks and glances from side to side. “She get you off?”

  I stiffen. “No.”

  “But you made her come.”

  I hesitate for half a breath, but it’s too long. “Not answering that, Rye.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  Fuck, no, I don’t have to, and now he knows goddamn everything. Why didn’t I expect this? Have some kind of bullshit answer ready?

  “So you’re going for it with her?”

  I lift one shoulder. “I shouldn’t. Know I’m not good enough for her, but—”

  “Jesus, Ajia.” He blows out a harsh breath. “How long’re you gonna punish yourself?”

  I glare at him. “You know it’s true.”

  “It ain’t true. It’s a bunch of bullshit, and you know it. It was an accident!”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I insist, feeling a little sick. “Ends the same way. I’m here, and Lara’s—”

  “Dead. Yeah, I get it.”

  Pain scrapes through me. “Yeah. Dead. Mason’s fucked up on pills and never gonna walk without a limp, and Jill’s like a kid who’ll never grow up. Because of me. So don’t say—”

  “You really think Lara’d want you to punish yourself for the rest of your life? You know Mason doesn’t hold a grudge. He made his own choices. And Jill loves you. She lights up every time you visit her.”

  Fuck. My heart beats hard, like it’s gonna pound right outta my chest. Rye knows the most about my past mistakes. He’s got his own shit to deal with, and we’ve talked sometimes. But…goddamn.

  “Rye…” I don’t really know what to say.

  “Look, man, I’m not gonna tell you not to do this. I know Bree’s different, and I know you have feelings for her. But give her the real you. Not some guy fucked up by the past, and not some manufactured rock star bullshit. The Ajia Stone nobody else knows.”

  The Ajia Stone nobody else knows. He’s the one who’s the piece of shit. Ajia-the-rock-star at least has some musical talent going for him.

  I don’t have a chance to put any of it into words before Rye gets called into makeup. I watch as they finish up with Knox and then put Zayne, Noah, and Rye through the same paces as me. The photographer seems happy with everything, and we’re finally given the go-ahead to get back into our street clothes.

  Knox hangs back to do something about marketing and all that social media crap, and the rest of us take a limo back to the hotel. I separate from the others at the elevator. Don’t know what they’re doing, and I don’t care. We’ve got some time before sound check, and I like the idea of a couple hours by the pool. Maybe a swim and some sun will bake the uncertainty out of my system.

  I tie my hair back—no freaking manbun for me—and throw on a pair of board shorts, sunglasses, and an Astros cap. I grab a towel and a bottle of water, and I’m outta there.

  The pool is less crowded than I expect. Maybe everybody in the hotel is off doing a gazillion other things that Southern California has to offer. All I care is that it gives me a pretty good choice of seats, and then I see her.

  Bree’s stretched out on a lounger, her hair pulled back in a ponytail a lot like mine, and her eyes covered by some gaudy-looking sunglasses. She’s wearing a tiny yellow bikini decorated with a bunch of colorful flowers. It isn’t the most revealing thing I’ve ever seen. At least her tits are completely covered and the bottom doesn’t sit too low over her pussy, but this is Bree, goddammit! I don’t want a bunch of strange assholes looking at her!

  You hear yourself? You’ve got no right to say anything about it. You haven’t claimed her.

  The other side of my brain is a bigger pervert. Jesus! She rocks that fucking bikini. Look at those tits! Those hips. Remember how she tastes? The little sounds she makes when she comes?

  “Hey there, baby.” I drag a lounge chair up next to hers.

  Her head pops up. “Ajia!”

  She smiles but I can’t tell anything else behind those sunglasses. Fair enough. She can’t read me behind my aviator glasses, either.

  “How was the photo shoot?”

  “Ridiculous.”

  “What happened?”

  I shrug and drop down to sit on my chair. “Nothing. Just a bunch of standing around and making faces at the camera. Except—”

  “What?”

  I give her a half-smile. I can almost laugh about it now. “They had this bed, and I had to lie there and stick my hand down my pants.”

  She kind of snorts, and it sounds cute. “Okay, so I might like to see that one, but…did they make Knox do it, too?”

  I laugh. “I don’t know, kitten. I did not watch that part.”

  She laughs, too. “Well, please warn me after you see the proofs. That’s one of those things that I can’t unsee, and then I’ll have to poke my eyes out or something.”

  So maybe we broke the ice a little. I like the idea, since I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.

  “You got barbecue sauce on you?”

  She looks down at herself. “Sunscreen?” She nods. “Yeah. You?”

  I shake my head. “Forgot.”

  She leans down to reach into the bag next to her chair. It draws attention to her cleavage, and I love the sight as much as I hate myself for looking. But—damn. This woman has some seriously beautiful tits!

  “Here.” She hands me a bottle. “Put it on. Everywhere.”

  “Everywhere?” I don’t mean to say it with that flirty lilt in my voice, but the word is out before I can think.

  She stares at me. “If you’re bringing him out in the sun, then, yeah. Everywhere.”

  I squeeze some
sunscreen on my hands and start rubbing it over my arms. “Him?”

  “Him.” She nods decisively. “You’re the boy, so your dangly bits are him. And my lady parts are her, since I’m the girl.”

  I’m pretty careful about getting the lotion rubbed in. Last thing I need is to be onstage sunburned. My skin crawls just thinking about it. Besides, it keeps me from looking at her after that little announcement. Finally, though, I can’t resist any longer.

  “Dangly bits?” I laugh as soon as the words are out.

  “Fine.” She looks from side to side. “Penis. Dick. Your cock.” She tries to follow it up with a shit-eating grin, but I see the blush on her cheeks that wasn’t there a minute ago.

  “Yeah.” I’m rubbing sunscreen on my chest, so I peek over the top of my shades. “So lady parts means your vagina.” I pause for effect. “That beautiful virgin pussy of yours.”

  “Ajia!” Her voice comes out sounding like a scandalized whisper, and that cute blush races down her neck to her chest. “Somebody might hear!”

  “Nope.” I move on to lather up my legs. “Nobody close enough. They might take a picture, but—” I tap my Astro’s cap “—I’m in disguise.”

  Bree laughs. “That’s your disguise? I’d recognize you a mile away in that hat.”

  “That’s cause you know me, baby. Most people…they aren’t looking.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yep. This is Southern California. Stars around here are a dime a dozen. Nobody gives a shit about some B or C-list rocker.” I hand back the sunscreen and try to get the last of it off my fingers by rubbing the back of my neck.

  “What about your back?”

  “Can’t reach,” I say carefully. “You offering?”

  She stares, and I wish she’d take off those goddamn sunglasses so I could see her eyes. “Maybe.”

  I open my arms. “Go for it.”

  She watches me a few seconds longer, then pushes up from her lounger and circles around behind me. I try to tell myself this game isn’t dangerous. We’re out in public, after all. Doesn’t matter. I know better. She wants me—hell, she thinks she loves me, even if it’s just a leftover childhood crush—and I sure as hell want her. We’re both adults. No reason we can’t spend some fan-fucking-tastic time together. Except for Knox, but she’s made it damn clear that she isn’t going to let her brother get in the way of this.