Page 48 of Breathing Wisteria
Flynn
“You ready?” I ask distractedly, pulling my buzzing phone out of my pocket.
“Nearly. Which shoes?” Wyatt comes out of the hotel bedroom, holding up two pairs of black boots.
They both look the same to me, but I am not a stupid man, so I quickly point to the pair on the right. “Those ones.”
Wyatt nods nervously, rushing back into the bedroom, leaving me alone for a moment.
Lighting up my screen, I quickly click on the Google alert notification. Tension is thumping along my temples as I wait for the link to Giselle’s blog to load. She has posted daily bullshit stories that make me look like a first-class piece of crap, since our altercation over the weekend.
Cam claims to be worried about the effect it might have on album downloads, but we both know that’s a load of shit. My name in the headlines, no matter the reason, will only increase the units I sell.
No, the reason she’s doing this is to tarnish me in Wyatt’s eyes and drive a wedge between us. What she doesn’t know is that nobody is more aware of my flaws than Wyatt is, and her dredging up petty-assed stories about women I fucked or asshole comments I made, will not break us.
If she really believes this is all it will take to send Wyatt running, she underestimates both my girl’s loyalty and my assholery.
My shoulders relax as I skim today’s piece of shit. A re-hashed story from three years ago about a hotel room I allegedly trashed. The real story is that a drummer we brought in for one show when Jett was sick, went on a drug-fuelled bender causing thousands of dollars’ worth of damage. Money that I had to pony up for.
But I guess me being the douchebag was a far better story, so that’s how it played out in the media.
“Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?” Wyatt stands on her tiptoes, raises her arms, and does a little pirouette.
My eyes rake up the line of her lithe body. She’s tall and slender with curves that make my fingers twitch and my cock ache. The short black dress she is wearing shows off her long legs perfectly and I look forward to having them wrapped around my waist later tonight.
Or my head, I’m not fussy.
“Fucking perfect.” I pocket my phone and move toward her. “The car will be here in five minutes.” I slide the thin strap of her dress aside slightly and place a kiss on her shoulder. “I wonder what we could do for the next five minutes?”
She tilts her head up at me, a sly grin dancing along her full lips, but before she can say anything, there’s a loud knock at the door.
“Car’s here, Flynn,” Zane’s voice disrupts us.
My forehead falls gently against hers, a rueful smile in place.
“We could always cancel?”
She laughs, a soft, sultry laugh that makes my stomach clench in anticipation.
“We are not canceling on your friends. We flew out here just to see them,” she admonishes.
“No, we’re here for interviews. Seeing them was just an afterthought.” My mouth trails up the curve of her neck, tasting and kissing. Hopefully, convincing.
“Lies!” She pushes me away, but her hands linger on my chest. “You set up these interviews as an excuse to come back to LA. I’m onto you, Irish.” She wags a finger at me. “It’s time to feed me and show me off. You can fuck me later.” Her fingernails scrape down my chest and she leans up and places a kiss on my throat, right next to my Adam’s apple, before she whispers in my ear, “I promise.”
Taking a step back, she smiles at me innocently, as though she didn’t just get me harder than steel.
“Right, let’s get this over with.” I grab her hand and drag her toward the door. The sooner we do this, the sooner we’ll be back here, and I can be inside her. Which, I’m not going to lie, is my absolute favorite place to be.
“Wait, I need my purse!” She laughs.
I drop her hand and race back to the bedroom and find her purse on the dresser. Snatching it up, I run back to her and resume my race out the door, her hand in mine.
Fifteen minutes later we’re in the back seat of the SUV, having survived the media scrum. Zane and Chris are up front, the privacy screen is in place and we’re headed out to Pacific Palisades.
“It was quieter than normal.”
I look at Wyatt with her flushed cheeks and bright eyes, and I wish that loving me didn’t mean having to deal with all of this BS.
