Page 21 of Wicked Truths

I push open my door and head out. This entire place is like nothing I’m used to.

Being in the States is taking some getting used to as a whole. I’m accustomed to England. I’m Irish, but my mum took a job and moved us to England when I was a teenager. Once she finally got some self-respect and decided enough was enough with my dads.

Sullivan is in the gym when I walk by. I work out here or there, but honestly, I prefer workouts of another kind. Sound spills out of the music room as I aim for it. The speakers are blaring with some dark, old-school heavy metal.

I’m surprised to see Oakley on the couch with a notebook. Marcus usually sticks close to her side, but he’s not around. I shut the door and saunter across the room, tossing myself down on the other side of the sofa.

“Whatcha doing?” I ask, kicking my feet up on the coffee table.

She glances over, giving me a look that says she couldn’t understand a word of that. Or possibly she wants me to fuck off back the way I came. Her hand wraps around the remote for the stereo system and she significantly lowers the volume.

I repeat my question.

“Trying to write us a few songs,” she says, shrugging. “I’m no Lyric Sinclair, but I usually write my own lyrics anyway, so if someone can help compose the music then…”

“Oh, sweetheart.” I chuckle. “That just so happens to be a huge part of my skill set.”

Oakley blinks big blue eyes, tilting her head as she studies me. Goddamn, she’s really fucking pretty with her lips pursed and her hair fanning around her face.

“Yeah? Let’s do it.” She smiles brightly, and it takes everything in me to keep from offering to do her.

Look at that.

I’m evolving.

I snort at the thought.

I’m not opposed to making it a good old-fashioned gang bang on the road. That’s the shite my dirty little heart lives for.

Oakley scoots over close enough that we can study her notebook together, and I remind myself this is the big leagues. It’s how I will ensure my mother never needs to work another day in her life. I get my shit together and focus to the best of my ability.

* * *

We write and practice the next several hours away. Lead and rhythm can do a lot together, but we can’t rock a full ensemble without Sullivan and Marcus.

I’m showing Oakley how I think she should play the chords when Marcus walks in. My arms are wrapped around her from behind, and I’m supporting the neck with my other hand on the body of her Gibson. Basically, I’m all up on her tight little body.

“Hey,” she says, tilting her head and smiling at Marcus.

She doesn’t jump away or act like we got caught doing something we shouldn’t have been. Not that we were, but I was almost positive he’s the one she’s banging. I’m going to need to do some covert checking on whose room is where.

Marcus growls, prowling closer. “Practicing without me?”

I smirk at him over her shoulder.

Oakley loves tank tops that gape at the top, and she never wears a bra around the penthouse.

I’ve got a spectacular view of the tops of her tits. I make sure he understands I’m fully checking her out. She smells delicious. My nose gets close to her throat, and I can’t help but breathe her in. It’s faint, but her scent is seriously sweet.

I frown, biting my lip. She’s definitely on the sweeter end of the spectrum to be a beta. She smells a little like lavender and camomile, but with a sugary tone I can’t quite pick out.

Oakley shivers as my warm breath fans over her neck, and suddenly that’s all my system can focus on.

“I was writing and Liam joined me.” She nods to the table with the notebook. “Want to give it a look and see if we noted your parts correctly?”

“Sure,” he says, giving me a look that indicates I should back the fuck offhiswoman.

I smile even wider because he might be used to being the biggest instigator in the group, but he’s going to have to share that title now.

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