Page 44 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

My head swims with my breathing hindered. Worse is the way that heightens the throb between my legs. “Riot?”

He tilts his head to one side, smirks. “Come to my room tonight. I’ll tell you what you’ll do for your precious box then.”

“There is no way I’m going to do that.” I say when his grip eases. I suck in deep breaths.

“You will.” He lets me go. My skin tingles all over. There’s an ache in my thighs as he saunters out. I forgot how hot and bothered he could make me. I scrunch my knees together as I sink down onto the mattress to catch my breath.

No, I’m not going to play this game with him.

Am I?

No. Nope. Never again.

Oh God. Am I?

16

Riot

Kelsey paces outside my doorway, distracting me from the lyrics I’m jotting down in my notebook. I like the freehand expression that I find in pen to paper, even though it’s old fashioned. But she’s making it hard for me to concentrate.

Despite the door being closed, I know it’s her. Security won’t bother me unless it’s necessary. Bronx, Kodiak, and Golden cleared out to some industry party a couple of hours ago. They probably won’t be back until much closer to dawn.

Even if they were here, none of my bandmates would think twice about barging in and airing their grievances. Like Bronx did last night after our game of chicken. Fucker had grabbed my shirt and pulled his fist back ready to punch my lights out after I destroyed any chance of Kelsey sucking his cock.

And I was ready for them to be knocked out because that would have been better than the epiphany I was having at the time. Watching her get on her knees for another guy... one of my friends... was meant to cement how much I didn’t care. I thought it would be no different than watching some of these chicks we meet at after parties who are happy to be passed around like a fat joint.

It was nothing at all like that.

There was no apathy. No disgust that she could get with one of my bandmates. I damn well cucked myself and the only thing I wanted to do was follow her into bunk alley, fist her hair, push her up against the wall, and remind her who she belongs to.

Kodiak had planted himself between us, putting an end to the situation before it got physical. It was exactly the reminder I needed. The woman is poison. I won’t let her destroy everything we’ve accomplished as a band.

I won’t let her ruin me again. No, this time I’m going to ruin her.

Is she coming in? Or is she going to scurry back to her room? How much is her memento box really worth to her? I jot down more lyrics while I wait for her to make her decision.

The footsteps pause outside my door.

I put the pen down. Tuck the pick between the strings on the neck of my guitar.

She knocks.

It’s odd. Her knocking.

Resting my guitar against the chair, I rest my hands behind my head. “Enter.”

Again, she hesitates.

I could cross the room and open it for her, but nothing I’m going to do to her tonight is designed to be easy on her. She’ll either come in now, or she’ll come back later when her need to get her things back overtakes her desire to stay away. The decision is hers. What it costs her is mine to control.

Like it cost me when she walked away as if we were nothing. When she broke her promises. Punched Carmine’s daughter in the mouth. Almost cost L.A. Riot our contract with Savant Records.

She did more damage than she’ll ever be able to make up for.

The door swings in and she stands on the threshold. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and it moves too rapidly with her breaths. “I want my box.”

I stand. “Then you’ll have to give me what I want.”