The Complete Rockstar Series

I shrug off my concern and smile back at the guy. “Hi.” Feeling ridiculous, I lean into him the way I’ve seen girls do to Hawke and flutter my eyelashes. Holy shit, it works, because the look in the guy’s eyes is purely carnal.

Perfect.

If Hawke’s getting laid tonight, so am I.

Hawke

“Want to go somewhere more private?” Brandi, Brittany… whatever the girl rubbing against me is called whispers, sticking her tongue in my ear to show me exactly why she wants to leave.

A shudder rips through me and my cock gets hard. I curl my hand into her side and pull her flush against my body. I’m about to drag her into my bedroom, but out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of Abby crossing the room. When she stops next to Brad—a complete and total entitled douchebag who despite all of us hating him, somehow gets invited to every one of our parties—my spine stiffens in anger. Brad hits on any and every girl in sight, making sure to get them nice and drunk before fucking and chucking them. More than once I’ve had to listen to him describe his disgusting sexual escapades.

And now he’s talking to Abby with a lecherous smile on his stupid face. No, that’s not what happened. She went to talk to him. What the fuck?

“Hawke,” the girl at my side whines. She slides her hand across the front of my jeans, which sends another ripple of pleasure straight to my groin. Brad reaches out, his slimy arm wrapping around Abby’s waist, thumb skimming over her lower back, and I see fucking red.

Don’t fucking touch what’s mine!

The words roar through my head, the powerful force behind them surprising me.

“I’ll be right back.” I gracelessly untangle myself from Brittany/Brandi’s clutches with no intention of actually returning. She’s attractive, but she doesn’t smell right. Too much perfume, not the faint beachy and slightly floral scent that perpetually surrounds Abby, but only if you’re close enough.

Brad leans in to whisper something to Abby and I clench my jaw at the thought of him enjoying that delicious scent. It gets worse. I watch in horror as his hand slowly slides down to her ass.

That’s when I fucking snap. Mine!

“Hey,” I cross the room, grab Brad’s shoulder, and shove him back. He stumbles, shocked, quickly composing his face into a mask of irritation.

“What the fuck, Evans?” Brad snarls.

Abby’s eyes are wide, ricocheting back and forth between me and Brad. Her luscious mouth drops open in surprise. “Hawke? What’s going on?”

I tear my eyes away from those sinful lips to glare at Brad, who seems beyond determined to piss me off further when I’m already hovering at the edge of the cliff.

“Go away, Evans. I’m talking to this nice girl.” This prick has no idea how close I am to snapping or what Abby means to me. The way Brad says “girl,” combined with the obvious “fuck

off so I can get laid” look in his eyes, seals his fate.

Blinded by rage, I pull back my arm and drill my fist right into his smug face.

“Fuck!” Brad cries out. He touches his mouth to find his lip split open and bleeding.

“Oh my god, Hawke! What is your problem?” Abby shouts. I move to punch the bastard again, but Abby steps between us, grabbing my hand. “Stop!”

“Move,” I hiss, shooting a murderous glare over Abby’s shoulder at Brad, who is still holding his hand up to his mouth.

The rest of the room has gone silent, everyone stopping to stare at the disruption, eager to watch a good fight. Dax must have either left or is holed up in his room with Kate, otherwise he’d be right in the middle of things, using his enormous muscles and underground fighting skills to put an end to the confrontation.

“Don’t,” Abby begs, forcing me to look at her by stepping into my line of sight. When I meet her eyes, shimmering with tears and betrayal, all of the rage I felt for Brad turns into frustration with Abby for drinking and putting herself in the situation with Brad to begin with.

“Leave,” I bark at Brad, pointing at the front door. Before she can protest, I grab Abby’s wrist and haul her to my room. She stumbles behind me on her high heels. Using my foot, I slam the door shut with a bang.

“Ouch, Hawke!” Abby twists out of my hold, turning to glare at me. “What is your problem?”

“My problem?” I shout. “I’m not the one getting drunk and letting Brad piece-of-shit Vargas touch my ass!”

Her mouth drops open and her eyes bulge. “Are you kidding me right now?”

I step forward, crowding her in a corner of the tiny space I share with Gavin. “Oh, I’m far from fucking kidding, Abby. He’s a slimy douchebag who wants nothing more than to get you drunk and fuck you.”