Page 26 of Wicked Truths

The last thing I want to do is defend him. We mutually dislike each other.

I think he’s uptight.

He thinks I’m a punk.

I’m a dick, but I draw the line at kicking someone when they’re down. Especially the chick who used to be so happy that it grated on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

Until the two guys in her life started fucking off with her feelings.

She’s been withdrawn lately.

I don’t like it.

I need her to be cheery and overly optimistic, so I can continually rain on her positivity parade.

We have a dynamic that I’m not ready to lose.

“I need a cigarette,” Oakley says, shaking her head. “Are you coming?” She shrugs out of my hold and aims for the sidewalk down to the store.

“Oh, dirty girl.” I swat her ass. “Ialwayscome with you.”

She literally buys a pack to smoke one or two and then tosses them or gives them away. It’s weird as hell, but also kind of cute. I think she’s trying to quit, and she’s been mostly successful since I only see her smoke once or twice a week, if that.

I catch up with her and sling my arm around her shoulder. She gives minimal resistance, enough to allow herself to believe she doesn’t like me. I make sure she’s pulled in close to my side as we meander toward the front entrance of Ruined.

“Thanks for coming after me.” Her head rests on my chest as she clutches my waist. “It feels like you’re the only one who’s real with me anymore.” She stretches up on her tiptoes and kisses the edge of my mouth.

It’s stupid.

There are people heading in and out of the building. We aren’t behind closed doors, but I still turn her and shove her up against the wall.

The silly smile that crosses her face makes me want to eat her alive.

She’s so short that I have to bend practically in half to shove my tongue in her mouth.

I’ve got a real addiction to the way she desperately kisses me back.

I might not be who she’s in love with or even the guy she likes, but she wants me. I’m pretty sure that’s one step up from any other woman in my past. I dry fuck her into the wall while she smiles against my lips. Her hands dig into my sides, and my brain runs through options for the quickest place I can take her to get inside her immediately.

“Hey, Marcus.” The voice cuts through my desire and finally registers in my head. “Are you going to take Angel up on her offer for a one-on-one interview?”

“She’s said she’d like to have you on her show. Is that something you’re considering?” another paparazzi asks.

The clicking cameras are so loud I can actually hear them. I’ve been in the music industry on and off for years. No one gave a shit who I was until Angel Rae Sinclair outed the fact that she’s my birth mother. And no, if she’s claiming she wants an interview with me, this is the first I’ve heard of it.

“Who’s that?”

“Finally moving on from Reba Sparks?”

Fuck, even hearing Reba’s name makes me want to crawl out of my own skin.

The questions continue as another asks, “Are the two of you still in contact?”

Is he fucking kidding?

After what she tried to pull with Lyric?

I did everything I could to try to get Reba some help, but she never wanted me. She wanted Ryder, and she was willing to do anything necessary to make that a reality. She’s obviously where she needs to be.

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