Wicked Indulgence (Wicked Innocence 2)

“I think so,” I groan. “I’ve got a killer headache that I think I need to sleep off.”

“Then do it. I’ll come over later, okay?” she asks.

“Sure. See you then.”

Chapter Eight

“Dude, can we talk?”

I turn and see Max standing in front of me, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. I’m juggling two coffees and some pastries that I got from a café down the road for Lyndall’s and my breakfast.

After a long nap last night I felt loads better. Lyndall came over and we stayed up half the night talking…among other things. She didn’t give me a hard time over the night before, which I’d been expecting. In the end, she stayed over and we fucked all night.

“Sure,” I say, hoping he makes whatever this is fast. These cups are fucking hot. “What’s up?”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

I stop fidgeting with the cups and stare at him. Since when did he get all deep and meaningful?

“I’m fine,” I reply slowly. “Is this about anything specific?”

“You’ve been going out every night—”

“So have you,” I point out.

“Yeah, but that’s who I am, man. You’re not usually the guy who passes out naked in a dumpster.”

“Yeah, and I promise I’m not going to be that guy again,” I groan. “Look, Max, I appreciate what you’re saying, but I get enough shit from my family. I don’t need it from my friends too, okay?”

I walk off, feeling a little annoyed that he thinks I have the problem. Max is the definition of unstable rock star. So I fucked up. Big deal. I’ll learn from it and move on—that’s the difference between us. I’m starting to think that maybe going solo isn’t the worst idea in the world.

At least then nobody can tell me how to behave.

****

“The media adore you,” Lyndall says, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I roll my eyes and laugh. We’ve finished our breakfast and Lyndall seems to be intent on picking up where we left off last night.

“No, the media love having someone they can always rely on for a story. That’s what sells magazines.”

“And that’s what sells records too,” she points out. “Have I told you how sexy you are when you don’t shave?” she asks, running her fingers over my uneven stubble. I laugh and press my mouth against hers, savoring her sweet taste. “I have to go for a little bit, but I’ll be back soon.”

I nod and kiss her once more. As she turns, I slap her on the ass, making her jump.

“They’ll be more of that later,” I chuckle.

“I can’t wait,” she laughs, buttoning up her shirt.

She leans over and kisses me again, before walking out. As the door closes behind her, something catches my eye. Her phone is still on the coffee table. I walk over and pick it up.

Before I can chase after her, it beeps with a new message, bringing up her most recent conversation. I don’t recognize the name, but seeing my own name in the conversation catches my attention.

Jay: You need to make him believe it. The media won’t if he doesn’t, you know?

Lyndall: Trust me, I got this. Sax is eating out of my hand. You wanted a rock and roll bad boy and that’s what you’re getting.

Jay: And because of it, you’ll get what you deserve too.