Page 98 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

The door stays locked.

“Fine.” I take a step back and kick just below the handle. The door splinters and swings free.

A boot flies at my head, and I barely manage to block it.

It’s followed by its partner, but I’m ready and duck.

She jumps off the bed and grabs my guitar. “Come in this room and I am going to break your guitar over your head.”

I lean against the frame. The image is... amusing. Or it would be if I could trust her not to destroy my shit. I love that damn guitar so much. Still, I forgot how feisty she can be, and how attractive I find it. She always could throw down. “You won’t.”

“Don’t try me,” she warns stretching her neck from side to side and then rolling her shoulders.

“You saw the video, didn’t you?” At least for now I’ll stay put.

“You were all over her.” Without looking she searches around on my desk until her hand encloses around an almost empty bottle of Jack. She throws it at me.

“Christ.” I flinch when it shatters against the panel right behind my shoulder. The aroma of whiskey assaults my senses. “Stop throwing shit.”

“Why? You don’t like it?” Her lips pull back to bare her teeth.

“No. I don’t.” I am going to take it out on her ass when I get my hands on her.

“Then stop fucking with that bitch,” she screams. “What is it about her? Does she have a magic pussy or something?”

“A magic what?” I suppress a chuckle.

“You heard me.” Her chest is heaving. Her mouth is set in a stubborn line.

“Let me set you straight on a couple of things.” I stalk toward her.

When she swings the guitar at me, I catch it and snatch it out of her hands. Putting it down safely, I close the gap between us.

“There is only one magical pussy. One.” For each step she takes away from me, I take a step toward her. Until her butt hits the desk and she sits. “Why the fuck else would I still be so caught up on you? Why would I crave you?”

Her breath hitches as I tug her knees apart and get between them, leaving no space.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. About fucking you. And why you left. And whose you’ve been since you were mine.” I’m baring my soul to a woman I can’t trust. Who has every reason not to trust me either. I’m basically asking for her to hurt me again. Giving her the weapons to do it. “And whether you still have feelings for me.”

“Only animosity and disgust.” Chin held high, she pretends that I can’t see that she’s forcing her eyes wider. Pretending that she’s holding herself tightly in check.

But she’s failing at it. All those emotions she’s trying to keep under control have her shaking and her eyes growing shiny in a way that tugs at my chest.

Of course, she couldn’t admit that there might be more between us. She’s far too stubborn for that. I huff out a breath. “Then why do you care whether I’m with her or not?”

“I don’t.” She averts her gaze to a spot on the desk beside her.

“Don’t look away from me.” I grab her jaw and lock our gazes. “Look in my eyes and tell me you don’t care.”

She swallows and her voice comes out all wet and quiet. “It doesn’t matter. We’re nothing anymore. It’s not like we can go back to who we were. We’re not them anymore. You’ve hurt me too much.”

God, I wish we were. I would give anything to go back, but we can’t. “You’ve hurt me too.”

“When this tour is over, I’m leaving,” she tells me. “I shouldn’t care that you’re fucking her.”

“But you do, Candy Head.” My old nickname for her tumbles from my lips as I press my forehead to hers. “So let me reassure you. I don’t want her. I never have. That video... it’s fucking make believe. Something the record label insists on. It’s not what I want. What I want is you. What I’ve always wanted is you. I don’t want to. I try not to, but I can’t stop.”

“But you did want her.” There’s a world of pain in her eyes. “Back then. You wanted her.”