Page 2 of Craving Oblivion

Jax frowned, aware I’d zoned out.

I did that often these days—fell into my own world. It had gotten me through the first month or so of the tour. But that numbness had begun to wear thin. I needed something else. No way I was ready to deal with all the emotions bubbling up.

Jax took a little step back before he held up his hands in supplication. “I just said I get that Austin’s hard for you. Still, you should let loose.” He smiled. “That surprise?” He turned and looked over his shoulder toward the pool. “Nadia,” he called.

A lithe, buxom redhead sidled around Jax, into the kitchen, and toward me. She wore the micro-est of bikinis, barely covering her nipples, and the thong so tiny, it left nothing to the imagination.

“Nadia wanted to get to know you.” Jax smirked. “Why don’t you go in the living room or upstairs where she can kiss your hurts all better?”

I set my glass of water on the counter and studied the beautiful woman in front of me. There were always beautiful women around. For the most part, they left me alone. Jax said I gave off an unapproachable vibe. I didn’t care what it was as long as no one touched me.

Nadia strode forward with well-oiled hips that told me she’d walked a few runways in her life.

“How old are you?” I asked.

She fluttered her lashes as she reached forward to trace my pec through my shirt. “Old enough to know how to make you feel good,” she purred.

“Not interested.” I was never interested—I’d seen sex used as a weapon. Plus, the only woman I wanted was Aya.

“Let me change your mind.” She tossed her hair, and I counted five freckles on her shoulder, bunched together in a cluster.

Those freckles caused me to waver toward want. And the wavering pissed me off. But Aya had moved on—I’d seen the picture with my own eyes.

Maybe I’d gone about this the wrong way. Maybe this was the only way for me to move on, too. My mother had a new boyfriend every couple of months and said she was happier now than she’d ever been.

This wasn’t about using sex as a weapon; it was about pleasure, about letting go. Having fun. I was a rock star. I was supposed to let loose. To party. Jax was always telling me. Hugh, too.

They were happy. Gratified. Relaxed. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt good.

Yes, I could. The last time I was with Aya.

She’d moved on. So should I.

I slipped my arm around Nadia’s waist, but every fiber of my being revolted, remembering the perfection of my time with Aya.

I stiffened as my gaze roved around the room and took in the number of semi or completely nude women. The place reeked of sex.

My stomach turned at the smell—a smell I associated with Brad. I booked it down the hall to the bathroom, where I wretched and wretched.

This attempt to move on had left me…dark. Stained. Broken.

Nadia slipped in behind me.

“Oh. I didn’t realize you weren’t well.” She nibbled her lip. She lifted a miniscule bag at her side. “Want something to take the pain away?”

That sounded like Lindsay. I edged back, fearful of what was in there. Fear and guilt rioted inside me, and I wanted to crash my fists against my temples—anything to make the feelings stop. I needed all the feelings to disappear.

I grabbed the pill she offered and slammed it back.

2

One Year Later

Aya

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Yamir asked, running his fingers through his wavy brown hair.

It was chocolate brown—I steered clear of men with sun-kissed hair, just as I refused to date anyone with whiskey-brown eyes.

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