Rock Addiction (Rock Kiss #1)(52)

“Hey!” Charlotte’s voice was ebullient in welcome. “I was wondering if you were back. Want to have dinner together? I need to hear everything.”

“Come over.” Molly didn’t want to be alone. “I feel like staying in. We can get takeout.”

“No, I’ll bring my special pasta sauce and we’ll have spaghetti.”

It was so good to have Charlotte there, to sigh with her over Molly’s memories of the amazing live show, smile at the photos from the wildlife park. But for the first time since their friendship began all those years ago, Molly didn’t tell her best friend everything. Especially not about how the night of the concert had ended—in angry passion and a terrifying tenderness that had smashed her defenses. Her vulnerable, scarred heart was now brutally exposed.




At work the next morning, she smiled when her colleagues asked her how her long weekend had gone but didn’t elaborate beyond a few words. Nothing could come close to describing the intensity of the past few days. She’d never been as happy, as angry, as scared, or as pleasured.

When Fox had messaged her last night to say he was out with the guys to celebrate Abe’s birthday but that he missed her, she could’ve taken the chance to protect herself, backed away. Instead, she’d drawn in a trembling breath and told him what was in her heart: I miss you, too.

The resulting exchange of sweet, sexy messages had left her with a goofy smile on her face, especially when he ended with: Abe just called me *-whipped. I told him he was a jealous f*cker and he agreed. He wants a Molly now, too.

The joy continued to hum in her blood this morning, even though she hadn’t heard from Fox again. Conscious of the time difference and not wanting to add pressure in case there was a real problem with the David situation, she decided to wait till early afternoon to check in. As it was, she barely had time to glance at her phone all morning.

Clearing her e-mails when she had a half hour to spare at last, she flicked over to the website of the country’s biggest newspaper, her plan to scan the day’s news before knuckling down to write up an after-school program they’d decided on at the midmorning meeting. The big headline was about a politician who had an interesting way of getting herself into the media for someone who professed not to value self-aggrandizement and work only for the people.

Rolling her eyes, she skimmed over the rest of the page, then clicked across to another news site more irreverent in tone. It often had at least one article that made her smile. Glancing at the updated feature links on one side of the page as she began to flip open her handwritten notes from the meeting, she was about to close the browser when her eye caught on the third link in the list: Fox Partying it up with Mystery Redhead in Sydney!

Her blood went cold, then hot, then cold again. Feeling as if she were watching someone else, she clicked on the link. It brought up a full-color image of a shirtless Fox with his arm around a stunning, voluptuous redhead who had her hand on his chest, the eyes she’d turned to the camera screaming her claim on him.

Molly attempted to read the text but her vision was blurred, her heart thundering in her ears. Swiveling in her chair to stare out the window behind her, she tried to breathe through the agonizing pain in her chest. It was hard. A long, gut-wrenching minute later, she forced herself to turn back to the screen and read her way through the article. According to the reporter, “superstar rocker Fox” had met the woman at a private party hosted by the hottest club in Sydney.

A source at the hotel confirmed they’d last been seen heading into his room, his mouth “devouring” hers.

Numb, Molly closed the page and got to work typing up the proposed program. Her fingers moved on autopilot, as did her body when it came time to move on to other duties. She was grateful the library continued to be hectic as the hours passed. So long as she didn’t have time to think, she was fine. The only person who would’ve immediately guessed something was wrong was Charlotte, and her best friend had flown down to the capital this morning with T-Rex for a big meeting.

Fox messaged her around three p.m. David’s in the clear. Be home tomorrow. xx

Where the xx and the use of the word “home” would have made her melt last night, today it seemed a mockery. Numb still and not knowing what to do, she ignored the message. Around four came another: In area with bad cell coverage. Talk to you when I return to the hotel.

Molly had no intention of talking to him. When she finally made it home, having opted to stay late to help a colleague with a project, she took off her clothes and stepped into the searing heat of the shower… only to collapse into a shattered ball on the floor. The block of ice within her chest bled a shivering chill through her veins and tears wracked her body, her throat lined with broken glass. It hurt, but nothing hurt as bad as knowing Fox had slept with another woman.

“Stupid, stupid, Molly,” she castigated herself, continuing to shiver under the white-hot spray. She’d known who he was from the start, and still she’d allowed herself to fall for his promises, to trust the rock star who’d just driven a knife through her heart.




Five hours later, she stumbled out of bed and walked to the living room to see the message light blinking on her machine. She’d turned it on before crawling under the blankets after her shower, having also switched off the ringer on the phone. Her cell phone, too, was off. Staring at the machine as if it might grow fangs, she reached out and pressed the Play button.