<Jenna Holden added Hudson Diaz to the conversation>
Hudson: No longer on your period, Jenna?
Jenna: You can say that again. Indie, how are things?
Indie: I hate your client, Jenna, and your boss, Hudson.
Jenna: What has he done?
Indie: Is Fallon really all that amazing?
Hudson: She’s pretty the way the Eurovision is. Fascinating, but ultimately makes you want to puke. Why?
Indie: Alex found out she’s engaged to Will. He was not happy. We can’t find him.
Jenna: ???
Jenna: ELABORATE.
Indie: Blake is roaming the streets, along with Alfie and Lucas. They asked me to stay in the hotel in case he shows up.
Jenna: Keep us posted. I don’t need this right now with everything that’s going on.
Hudson: What IS going on?
Jenna: Doesn’t matter.
Hudson: Tell me, Indie, is Alex still mad at Luc?
Indie: Very much so. Why?
Hudson: Oh, no reason. If you ever get to it, tell Lucas he’s a jerk. He’ll know why.
Unattainable. Cold. Disturbed.
I knew that. I wasn’t, after all, stupid. But maybe that was what drew me to Alex. He was categorically unreachable—he would never give me his heart or future or even the greater chunk of his presence—but he still gave me something. Some fuel to run on as I knitted together patches full of stupid dreams and idealistic ideas about us. And I did. I absolutely did. Despite my best efforts, and what I so often told myself, I wanted Alex in more ways than he wanted me. It was very easy to figure out, actually. Every time we touched, it was always in my room, always in the dark, always on his terms. I was his little doll. The one he’d bend over and finger under the dinner table, his fingers ascending up my underskirt, meeting my wet flesh and playing with me while he was engrossed in a conversation about record labels with Alfie at the hotel ballroom. I was the just-for-funsies girl he’d pin to the bed—arms above my head, always, legs spread wide—and kiss until I begged and panted and made a fool of myself. I was now the girl I’d always detested. The one who took something, even though she wanted everything, because in the end, she settled for less.
I tried to convince myself I was after the desire, and not the desired. That he was just a tool, and that with time, and space, and distance, I’d forget about him.
I’d realized how wrong I was when I stood in the hallway, The Paris Dress clutched to my chest. I’d been about to walk over to Alex’s room and ask if they had an extra pair of scissors, since I couldn’t find mine.
He stormed down the hallway, taking the stairs, not the elevator, despite the fact we were on the twentieth floor. His door was still open, and his scent was everywhere in the hallway, so different and masculine and uniquely his. Blake looked back at me from the threshold. I quirked one eyebrow, silently asking him to explain. Alex’s eyes shone, and the pain etched on his face couldn’t be mistaken. It was there, and it was raw.
“He found out about Fallon and Will’s engagement.”
I pulled my lower lip into my mouth with my teeth, my eyes widening. The dull pain in my chest intensified. For him. For me. Maybe even for Blake. The notion that this was over—that we were over—took over me.
Maybe we’d reached a boiling point.
Maybe we were done.
I spent the remainder of the day in my hotel room, watching TV. I’d Skyped with Natasha, Craig, and Ziggy. Craig couldn’t leave the house, and Natasha wouldn’t bring him any booze, which prompted him to stay reluctantly sober. It wasn’t fun to watch him moping around, but I hadn’t seen him look so healthy in years. His cheeks had a natural pink hue again and his skin looked smoother. The bags under his eyes were less prominent. And he was functioning. Ish.
Yet, I didn’t find myself happy about it.
“Craig, go fix Ziggy his dinner. There’s mashed potatoes and chicken in the fridge,” Nat said that day.
I smiled tiredly at that. They could afford chicken. I was glad, despite everything, that I was still touring with Alex. Whoever had said money can’t buy happiness was never truly poor. Money could buy happiness, but that doesn’t mean you need too much of it.
When Craig and Ziggy were out of earshot, Nat took the extra step and grabbed the laptop, jogging to her bedroom and shutting the door behind her. She jumped on the bed and fixed the monitor so she could see me better.
“What’s going on?” she whispered. “Tell me everything. And there are things to tell, I bet. There was a paparazzi picture of you guys in Greece. It looked like Alex was half-hugging you, half-grabbing your ass.”
Oh, shit.
I mentally browsed through everything that had gone down in Athens. The guys had wanted to go sightseeing, and I’d had to watch Alex extra carefully, because apparently, he used to party in London with some drug dealer who’d moved to Greece, and Blake was on edge about it. I’d worn a polka-dot blue dress and a scarlet smile that day. The weather had been glorious. We’d admired the ancient ruins with a bunch of starstruck tourists from Japan and Germany, taking pictures of the Parthenon, when Alex had slid his hand over my butt when everyone else was walking ahead of us, listening to the tour guide, and pressed his mouth to my ear.
The Parthenon was the temple they’d built for their goddess, Athena, the tour guide explained. Athena was the symbol of arts and freedom.
“Two things you remind me of.” Alex’s lips had dragged to my neck, his voice gruff with cigarette and lust. “But tonight, darlin’, you’ll be the one to call me god.”
He’d dropped the “G” in ‘darling.’ For me.
“That’s corny as hell.”
“I like corn. Corn is good. And we’re so hot we could make popcorn.”
“Jesus, Alex!” I’d laughed.
“See? I haven’t even touched you properly, and you’re already half-religious.”
I’d been so happy at that moment, which only reminded me how unhappy I was now when my face heated and Nat’s smile widened.
“Holy hell, Indie! You’re sleeping with a rock star. My inner slut is cheering for you. Or should I say my former slut? I think I’m still her. I’m just reining in on that shit since I’m married and have a kid and all.”
Another arrow of sorrow shot to my heart. Nat deserved so much more than Craig was giving her. Had she brought the subject up a few hours ago, I might have felt braver. Safer. Like it didn’t matter at all that Alex was looking forward to Paris so he could pursue his former flame.
“It’s not like that.” I pulled a lock of my blue hair and fingered the ends, my eyes concentrating hard on them instead of on my sister-in-law.
“What’s it like then?” I heard her grin.
“It’s really casual. He’s still in love with his ex.”
“And that bothers you?”
“Of course not.”
“So, why the long face?”
Because I’m a liar, just like him.
“I should probably end it,” I said aloud, making the idea real and scary. Not that I was in love with him, or even needed him. But he was the one thing in my life that made me feel good, and the list of things that made me feel that way wasn’t very long.
“Maybe you should, but you definitely won’t,” Nat said, and I looked up to see her expression, which turned from amused to worried. “Remember, Indie. Three months. Enjoy what’s there, and leave it at that.”
Easier said than done. I changed the subject, and we ended up talking about other things. About Clara from Thrifty, who had been calling Nat and asking about me. Then about Ziggy’s new obsession with pulling his pants down, which Natasha was very happy about, because she thought it’d meant he was ready to be potty trained.
After that, I ordered room service. Philly cheesesteak and fries. Not exactly authentic Spanish cuisine, but I was desperate to feel like I was back on US soil, even for a little while. I was drawing figures on the plate with a French fry and ketchup when he pounded on my door. I didn’t need to open it to know who it was. Alex was always minutes away from crashing the door down with his force. I ignored the knocks for the first ten minutes, but after that knew I was entering a dangerous territory. If he was drunk or drugged up—two ideas that weren’t farfetched, seeing as he’d disappeared for hours on his own—I needed to deal with that. No matter how hurt I’d felt, this was still a job, and one that paid well. Well enough, in fact, to get Ziggy the tubes he needed in his ears. He had a consultation appointment next week. Plus, I wanted to put Craig in rehab and get Nat’s car running so she didn’t have to take three buses on her way to her temporary job. That meant that no matter how foolishly angry I’d felt about Alex being devastated about Fallon’s engagement, I had to swallow my pride. But that didn’t mean I’d humor him anymore when it came to us.
I walked to the door and swung it open. He stood in front of me, his white V-neck crumpled and wrinkled, his black skinny jeans and impossible height both familiar and imposing. He smelled of cigarettes and the fresh bite of the cool evening air. He looked sober, and miserable, and extremely huggable. I folded my arms over my chest to keep myself from reaching toward him, staring up into his amber eyes with the green and gold flakes that swam in circles, like a gold pond.
I’m so happy I didn’t sleep with you. If I had, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from giving you everything you came here for tonight.
“Can I come in?” His eyes looked wrecked. Bloodshot.
I should say no. I knew he’d pour his heart out, and once he did, I wouldn’t deny him of anything in this world. He made me weak and exposed, and that alone should make me run for the hills. I stood there wordlessly, not quite ready to say no, but not stupid enough to say yes.
“Please.” He saw the hesitation on my face, but his voice was hard and coarse. Leave it to Alex Winslow to ask for something nicely one time in his life and still make it sound like a demand. “I need to talk.”
“Talk to someone else. You have plenty of friends.”
He snorted, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. From that angle, I could see the dark circles under his eyes. “Some friends they are.”
“Not my problem,” I said quietly, hating myself for every word. He’d been cruel to me, but that didn’t mean I had to be cruel back. There’s strength in choosing kindness even when you’re being dragged into the well of malice. I’d never been this way, and yet, I couldn’t stop myself. I was angry. Angrier than sympathetic. He knitted his brows and stared me down. I watched as his eyes turned in slow-motion from exasperated and sad to dark and interested.
“The fuck happened to you?”
“You happened to me. Unfortunately.” I was about to shut the door—he was sober, my job was done—but he slipped his arm through the crack and stopped me.
I was about to slam it anyway when he said, “I’d reconsider if I were you. This arm is insured for twenty million dollars. If I can’t play my guitar, a lot of people will be upset. All of those people you don’t want to piss off.”
Feeling lava bubbling in my chest, I kept the crack open, painfully aware of how his finger brushed the strap of my dress up my shoulder.
“Why are you mad?” His thumb rode up to my neck, to my pulse that quickened by the nanosecond. The change in mood confused me, and that’s exactly how he liked me.
“I’m not mad.” A chuckle died in my throat.
He pushed the door open all the way and sauntered in like he owned the place, doing his usual inspection. Alex liked to look and examine everything, like I was hiding dozens of dead bodies in my room.
“You are. You’re looking at me like I ran over your pet cockatoo.”
“I don’t have a pet cockatoo.”
“Yeah. Don’t. They’re a lot of work. Fallon had one.”
Fallon. Her name on his lips sounded like a profanity.
“I just don’t see why you’d even come here. You’re upset about Will and Fallon’s engagement. You should be dealing with it either by talking to them or with someone who can help you. I definitely can’t.”
He walked toward me, making me walk backward to avoid his touch. He wasn’t slow or particularly predatory. Just…nonchalant. When my back hit the dresser behind me, I finally exhaled some of my rage. He just stood there and didn’t say anything. Needless to say, that annoyed me.
“Say something,” I growled. His eyes tapered into slits.
“You knew.” He meant the engagement.
“I did,” I admitted, without missing a heartbeat. “Blake said you’d go on a bender if you found out. My job is to keep you sober. You are a job, Alex,” I reminded myself more than to him.
He pondered my words, rolling a lock of icy-blue hair between his fingers. Any trace of his sadness was gone from his face now, replaced with quiet, burning desire. One that runs deep and doesn’t end in your lower stomach, but buzzes all the way down your toes, kissing every nerve in the process.
“That is cold,” he said, his fingers sliding down my shoulder again—warm and rough and so callused—slipping the strap of my swing dress back down. “Especially for someone so warm. You really hate me, don’t you?”
“I don’t hate you.” I swallowed. A truth for a truth. Would he give me one, too? “Do you care about me at all?”
“Yes,” he admitted evenly without blinking, no trace of emotion on his voice. “I care about you.”
“Then let me go. Let me work here and stop this…this…” What were we? What the hell were we? It felt like more than a fling but less than dating. “This thing between us. You’re in love with someone else.”
“No,” he said, in the exact level tone, his body crowding mine further and further until the handles of the dresser dug into my lower back. Our limbs were entwined, but other than that, I had no excuse to the way my body reacted. Like it wanted to dance and fling itself off a cliff.
“Why?” I breathed.
“You need this. We need this. Today wasn’t about Fallon. The engagement came as a surprise, sure, but it wasn’t what made me lose my shit. My mates taking every ounce of power and freedom from me did.” Pause. Beat. Swallow. “I accidentally broke Tania.”
My stomach flipped, a shiver running down my spine. He killed Tania. His turtle’s back. Tania inspired him, protected him, was there for him. My mouth fell open.
“How…”
“I went mental on Blake for leaking those dick photos. For hiding so much from me. I didn’t even realize what I’d done. I just grabbed the first thing in reach and swung it his way. It hit the door. Remember this next sentence, Stardust, for it’s important, and a rare fucking truth: I’m not upset about Fallon. Granted, I’m not happy about it either, but today wasn’t about her. It was about my fucked-up life and my fucked-up mates and the fucked-up way I mixed business and pleasure like a rookie. I no longer know who’s there for the money and who’s there because they care. And it gets worse—if I could know, I’d still choose not to. Because it’d hurt like a bitch. The stupid, overrated truth.”
Something moved between us. Some kind of silent understanding. Alex was a liar because he hated his truth. But he was there, in front of me, his face so naked and raw, and at that moment, I didn’t care that he’d break me just the way he had Tania.
We needed each other. Now. On this tour. Like air, and oxygen, and the pulse beneath our flesh. For once, I understood what he’d meant about being above gravity. There was a world outside, I knew it. But there was a smaller asteroid on which we lived, and that was the only place I wanted to be in that moment.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Music.
It came from somewhere downstairs. A street party, I think. As soon as it started, our lips crashed together, and we wrestled each other out of our clothes. The soft thuds of fabric hitting the hard carpeted floors filled my ears even with the festive music on, and Alex hoisted me up to curl my legs around his waist, his signature move, and walked me around the room. He always opted for the Jacuzzi, the balcony, or while I was bent over the kitchen alcove. He liked it awkward and savage. The un-photoshopped version, as he’d called it.
Alex dumped me onto the cold sheets of the bed, and I arched my back, the sheer surprise of him wanting to do it in bed startling me. He dragged his teeth along my skin, and I wrapped his hair around my fingers, giving him better access to everything. When he kissed his path down my stomach, I started feeling the butterflies swirling around my belly, my sex tightening around nothing in anticipation. He was always so smug, like he had the world at his feet—and he really did. That was, perhaps, the entire irony of it all—but never when we were in bed together. When it was just us, his lips hovering over mine, his thick cock grinding into my body, he looked humble, and grateful, and pained.
His mouth found my sensitive bud, and he started playing with it as I let go, forgetting about my family and my heartbreak and the discarded plate of French fries that made the room smell funny. It was just me and him. Me, him, and the pleasure.
“I need to fuck you,” he murmured, his voice vibrating and tickling my inside. “I need to be inside you the way you’re inside me. So deep I want to peel my skin off just to get rid of you. I need to get rid of you,” he repeated, and my heart dropped, my breath catching in my throat, as my clit began to throb, my lower lip shaking with an impending orgasm that had threatened to ripple through me like a storm. He loved to suck on my clit so hard my vision dotted with thick, white clouds.
“No.” My voice quivered, my pelvis rocking into his mouth as he began to thrust his tongue into me over and over. He was relentless. Dirty and shameless. Like the way he spread his fingers under the back of my thighs and pushed me back and forth to make his tongue go deeper and deeper into me. Or the way he pressed his cock to my thigh until his zipper tore at my leggings from grinding me so roughly.
“I told you, I’m never going to sleep with you,” I said under my breath.
But it was a lie, and we both knew that. There was no difference between sleeping with him and letting him eat me out every night. Finger me at public dinners and play with my nipples while he was talking on the phone with Jenna, yelling at her about some appearance he’d never agreed to do.
He chuckled into my warm flesh. “But I’ll break you.”
You already did. Today. I said nothing to that. My thighs began to shake uncontrollably and my mouth dropped into an O as I clutched tighter into his hair. I was sure it was painful for him, but he didn’t complain. He never complained. For all the jackass things he did outside of the bedroom, once the clothes were off, he made me feel comfortable. Comfortable to scream, to moan, and to demand. Comfortable to hungrily suck on his shaft and wipe the drool with the back of my hand at how incredibly aroused he’d made me by simply looking at me the way he had. Like touching each other would take all our troubles away.
I came hard on his tongue. He flipped me over, and before I had the chance to protest, mounted me, burying his cock between my ass cheeks—completely bare—and sliding up and down.
“Oh, fuck,” he said.
He loved doing things to me from behind. I think it was because he knew I could see everything on his face when we were together. The worry, and sadness, and fear. We weren’t having sex, not technically, but boy, was it getting harder and harder to tell myself I had red lines with this guy. I needed to just give in to him already. Give in to myself. Ask him to put a condom on and have sex with me. But not putting out made me feel like I was in control, and I craved that no less than I craved his body.
His cock pulsated between my cheeks, and I felt the warm pre-cum gathering at my tailbone. I didn’t know why I found it so stupid hot to have him masturbate on me this way, but I quickly pushed against him, taunting him, prompting him to smash into me from behind. I didn’t know what I was doing. Not fully. I was too delirious with lust and relieved at his reason for heartbreak. I shouldn’t have taken pleasure in knowing he was devastated about Tania breaking, but at least it wasn’t about Fallon.
“Why do you taunt me?” He fisted my hair and pulled me up, making me arch my back. Once my stomach rose from the mattress, he used his other hand to play with one of my tits, pinching my nipple on a hiss. “Why do you take so much pleasure in driving me mad?”
My skin prickled with goose bumps at his menacing tone.
“To get even.” My voice was hoarse, suffocated by the position we were in, my neck fully extended as he rubbed himself harder and harder into my ass, his thrusts almost punishing—both to him and to me—for not being able to penetrate me. “Just returning the favor, Mr. Rock Star.”
“I think we’re on a first-name basis now, Stardust.” His dick started twitching along my skin, and I knew he was about to burst. His teeth dragged over my neck. “Seeing as next time we do this, I’m going to be so balls deep inside you, I’ll be able to tickle your fucking lungs.”
With that, he came on my back. I felt the ribbons of hot cum on my skin. He then collapsed on the bed, disconnecting from me like I was nothing but a container to put his sperm in. My face was still buried inside the pillow, which was for the best, with the way I blushed.
I lay there, in the same position, waiting for him to say something. To clean me up, seeing as I couldn’t do it myself. Not unless I got into the shower.
I waited for many things, but a few minutes later, I heard the door open and shut, and knew he’d left me there, like the disposable fuck doll he’d wanted me to feel like.
Because when Alex was hurting, he wanted the entire world to hurt with him.
And in that moment in time, I was his world.
I should have felt disgusted by what he’d done. I should have wrapped myself up in a towel, stormed after him, and given him a piece of my mind.
But all I did was smile into the pillow like the stupid, lust-struck girl I was.
My Alex.
My little prince.
My fallen star in the dark, dark skies.