Page 5 of Fame and Obsession

Wincing, I adjust my hard-on and cast a tentative glance around the table. I’ll never live this down if anyone notices. I give them enough ammunition as it is.

Those idiots would be like dogs with a bone.

I laugh at my own joke just as a familiar hand snakes across my thigh. Half of me wills it to keep going. Maybe Vivian can use her talents for good instead of evil for once and put me out of my misery.

As if reading my mind, she obeys. However, as quickly as I entertain the idea of her touch, I reject it equally as fast.

Reaching under the table, I pry her death grip off me, wincing as a sharp pain shoots up my groin. Vivian smiles as I free myself, and it pisses me off.

I tossed her arm back into her own lap and scowl. “What the fuck, Viv?”

“You need me, baby.” Her eyes swim in the gin she’s consumed as she bites her lip. “I’m just trying to ease the tension.”

“Well, don’t.”

My words go in one ear and lodge in her boozed-up brain as she tries to straddle me. “I’ll take care of you, Julian” Her hands work to free my dick from my pants. “Just relax. I’ll make you forget all about it.”

I freeze as the same words from a year ago echo from Vivian’s lips.

“Don’t worry. Close your eyes. I’ll make you forget all about it.”

Forgetting isn’t an option. All the pussy in New York won’t bring Lam back.

Darkness fills my chest, and I push her onto the cushion beside me.

This is a mistake. Coming here and celebrating like we’re throwing ourselves a goddamn parade—it’s all wrong. I tried to tell them, but, as usual, I was told to stop being an asshole and enjoy the success.

Lifting my beer, I catch Zane’s watchful eye and tilt the bottle in his direction before turning it up and taking a healthy drink.

Here’s to being an asshole.

As Zane’s attention diverts back to his conversation, and Vivian sits pouting beside me, I can’t help my mind from wandering downstairs to my raven-haired beauty.

I can still taste those pouty lips.

I wonder if anyone has ever told her she has perfect lips.

What am I saying? Look at her… More than that has been whispered into the curve of that neck.

Probably by that blond asshole from downstairs.

I didn’t care to hear any more of their conversation. Gorgeous or not, if she thought I was going to stand there while she flipped a coin to see which one of us got her attention, she was wrong.

I don’t play that game for anyone.

Shifting uncomfortably, I push the girl out of my head and focus on the conversation happening at the table. I catch the tail end of some random argument my bandmates, Zane and Ty, are having over which creatures of the underworld would reign supreme in a mythological death match.

“That shit doesn’t make sense, brother,” Zane slurs, waving his beer in Ty’s face. “You’re gonna sit there and tell me a fucking Chimera would lose against Cerberus?”

Ty bursts out laughing. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Cerberus is the damn three-headed guard dog of the fourth circle of the Underworld. Watch it, Z, your dumbass is showing.”

Annoyed, Zane flips him off. “Dude, are you smokin’ your shoes? Chimera is a fire- breathing lion with a motherfucking goat head on its back and a snake-head for an ass. It can reach back and fight its own ass. That’s gangster shit, brother.”

As the argument escalates into tag-team pairings and no-holds-barred free-for-alls, my attention lowers back to the base of the staircase where she balances one foot as if in deep thought.

Her hair smells like coconut. I can still smell it on my skin.

I can’t look away. All I can do is stare at her, inexplicable lust twisting up my insides.