Reckless Weekend

by Summers, Eden

  Mason gave a two-finger salute and strode off to find the bride and groom. He skirted the dance floor, keeping his gaze away from Alana’s vulture of a friend, Kate. The woman didn’t have a subtle bone in her body, and there was no way she was getting his tonight.

  “Ahh, just the man I wanted to see.” Leah’s voice sent a shiver down his spine.

  He hated that she now made him nervous. He didn’t do nervous. Never had…until recently.

  “Hello, Leah,” he drawled, not making eye contact. “I’m about to say goodbye to the happy couple and call it a night.”

  “They already left. Good decision though, you need all the sleep you can get.”

  A pulse ticked to life under his right eye. “Don’t start.” He narrowed his gaze on her, backing up his demand with the visual threat. He didn’t want to start a fight in the middle of a wedding.

  “I’m not starting anything.”

  Yeah, she was. She’d been hassling him for months, her phone calls and emails becoming more frequent and demanding. The looming pressure was becoming too much. He no longer had the drive to create a new album. Or go on tour for fans who loved Reckless one minute, then fucked them over on every social media outlet the next. All he had to do was miss a note, or have Sean fumble a beat, or Mitch fuck up a chord. Then the claws came out and the nastiness began. Everyone was a critic. Loyalty was a thing of the past.

  The more he thought about it, the more it pissed him off.

  He couldn’t even trust his relatives anymore. They didn’t give a shit about his life. They cared about free concert tickets and the popularity that filtered through the family tree. Yet they only stuck around during the good days. If a scandal broke, or bad publicity spanned the headlines, his uncles would be straight on the phone to his mom, bitching and complaining about how it affected their lives. His life, and the lives of his bandmates, were nobody’s fucking business.

  “I told you I’d back off for tonight,” Leah continued. “I’m here as a guest, not as your band manager.”

  Well then, lay the hell off. Constantly bugging him about a muse he had no control over wouldn’t help kick-start the next album. “Good night, then.” He’d had enough. He was drained, tired in body and mind, and for once he wanted peace. He wanted to go home alone and not scrutinize himself on the reasons behind his songwriting issues.

  “I’ll give you a week,” Leah added. “After that, I’m going to ride you so hard your ass bleeds.” Her face broke out in a dazzling smile. “And it might be the alcohol talking, but I’m kinda looking forward to it.”

  He clenched his jaw and fought hard to bite back the anger poised at his tongue. He hated this. Hated being unable to do his job. Hated that his muse had packed up and gone on a vacation with no end in sight. Most of all he hated being weak. He was the front man and songwriter for one of the bestselling rock bands in the world—he didn’t do weak. He did loud and proud and fucking awesome.

  “Fuck it, Leah.” He threw his arms up in the air, unconcerned by the way she jerked back. “I quit.”

  The label could find another sucker to earn them billions. He’d started on the music path with stars in his eyes and music the solitary focus in his heart. Now he was a monster, and worst of all, he’d become used to the constant criticism. No wonder his muse was dead and buried, how could he write when he hated himself?

  The humor fled Leah’s features. “Mason, get a grip. I was joking.”

  “Well, I wasn’t.”

  He was walking away. Taking a break. Giving himself time to consider the different paths on offer because he was fed up with the road he was on. There were too many rules. Too many fucked up issues that manipulated the heart of his music. All their songs had to stick to a similar style. They couldn’t deviate. They couldn’t test the waters with other genres or sounds.

  He was sick of creating lyrics to match current trends. He wanted to write from the heart, if he ever found his again. Most of all he wanted to be free to do whatever the hell he liked.

  Enough. Christ, he was rambling to himself.

  “Mason?” Leah uttered.

  “Call the label. Tell them I’m stepping away from my contract.” He breathed deep through his nose, ignoring the panic in Leah’s eyes. “I can’t do this shit anymore.”

  Without another word, he turned and strode from the ballroom, unsure whether the hard throb behind his breastbone was from relief, or fear of making the biggest mistake of his life.

  * * *

  I hope you enjoyed Reckless Weekend

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  Undesired Lust Excerpt

  Two Years Ago

  “And the Grammy for Best Rock Song goes to…”

  Sidney Higgins held her breath, her gaze glued to the presenter aglow in stage lights. Mason Lynch sat to her left, his hand holding hers in a reassuring grip. Tonight, he was more gorgeous than usual, in a tailored black suit and his blond, wavy hair loose against his jaw line. She didn’t need to glance his way to know his confident smile was aimed at her. She could feel it on her skin, the light tingle of awareness which always haunted her whenever he was close.

  “Don’t sweat it. We’ve got this in the bag,” he murmured over the hush in the room.

  His arrogance never ceased to amaze her. It was natural to him. Effortless. Strangely, she found it endearing. His confidence rubbed off on her, increasing her sense of accomplishment, not only in her career, but life in general.

  Right now, though, his sonic boom of awesomeness wasn’t penetrating her nerves, or her need to use the bathroom. This was her first Grammy nomination, and the butterflies alone were enough to make her double over.

  “… Mason Lynch and Sidney Higgins for ‘Tough Love.’”

  Oh, my God.

  They did it. They won a fucking Grammy.

  “I don’t believe it.” The words tightened her throat, whispering from her lips as thunderous applause erupted around them. She turned her wide-eyed gaze to Mason and found him staring at her, grinning. No elation. No shock or disbelief. He simply stared at her as if the sun rose and set in her eyes.

  Someone clapped her shoulder, followed by another and another. She was too awe struck and numb to notice who. Her focus was glued to the gleaming, mocha-brown irises of the most talented man she’d ever known. He stood, continuing to hold her hand and her attention as he tugged her to her feet.

  “Let’s get you a Grammy, kitten.”

  Ovaries—boom. That endearment did it to her every time. Her nipples hardened. And right now, in a skintight evening gown and thin lace bra, she couldn’t think of anything worse. Think of dirty dishes, laundry, clubbing baby seals. Hell, even the thought of the unsigned recording contract currently sitting on her dining room table wasn’t enough to drag her mind from lurid thoughts of Mason.

  Clearing the gravel from her throat, she followed him into the aisle leading to the stage, and sneaked a glance over her shoulder at the hundreds of applauding people. Surreal. The man of her dreams at her side. A Grammy waiting to be awarded. The world at her feet. Tears stung her eyes, and her grin turned into a beaming smile. Everything fell into place. Life was perfect, and maybe this achievement would stop her father from worrying about her risky career choice.

  Mason tugged her into his arms and then squeezed her tight, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Congratulations, Sid,” he whispered against her neck, sending a shiver of awareness down her spine.

  She hugged him, her pulse pounding in her ears. “We really did it.”

  “You doubted our unstoppable skills? The world doesn’t stand a chance against us.” He pulled back, gifting her with another delicate sweep of his lips, this time on her temple. “Now let’s go get our prize.”

 
; Mason reclined into the rooftop sofa, scotch in hand, and stared at the woman dancing with his best friend, Sean. Perfection. That was the only way to describe her. Her sweet, lush lips, her playful, hazel eyes, the way her hips swayed as she twirled in those sexy little heels. He had a thing for her. Maybe not a big thing, but it was definitely growing if the crotch of his pants was anything to go by.

  Sean caught his gaze and waggled his brows. “I’m dancing with a Grammy award winner!” His voice died under the beat of techno crap the dick jockey was playing. They were at a Grammy after party for fuck’s sake. Play some good music, asshole.

  “You can blow one, if you like,” Mason shouted.

  Sidney burst into laughter, her head falling back, the short, almost-black hair fanning her shoulders as she clung to Sean’s biceps. When she straightened, her dimples hit Mason with the force of a truck driver on speed. He could watch her for hours, had already done so while working together on the latest Reckless Beat album. He didn’t think his libido would ever get enough.

  Jutting his chin, he commanded her in a not-so-subtle way to get her sexy ass to his side. Her brow quirked in response while she continued to dance, making her moves more sultry. More fucking hard to ignore. And he’d been such a good boy until now. He’d made sure all their collaboration time had been purely platonic, even though he had to battle lust daily. He’d matched her high level of professionalism, played it cool, and instead of pushing her up against the nearest studio wall and fucking her senseless, he’d waited until he was alone to shoot his enthusiasm all over the shower wall like a pubescent teen.

  Yep. She was that fucking brilliant. And he couldn’t turn his fantasies into reality because they worked together. The risks were too high. Sidney was the only person he’d successfully collaborated with. She got him. They shared the same musical spirit, and he knew their relationship would be compromised if he got her hot little body beneath his. Well, he had known when the shit flowing through his veins wasn’t eighty percent alcohol.

  Right now, she looked like a challenge he wanted to accomplish. More than once.

  “Come on.” He jerked his head again and crooked a finger. Don’t play hard to get. It drives me fucking wild.

  She paused, her dance moves slowing as she scraped her lower lip between her teeth.

  Yeah, that’s it, little kitten. Come to papa.

  His heart stopped with the first step she took in his direction. Then the fucker restarted in double-time. She prowled toward him, her normally professional demeanor nowhere in sight. He’d been used to Sidney Higgins—business woman and songwriter extraordinaire. The female—this stranger—sashaying toward him was a seductress, and entirely in control of his libido.

  She stopped in front of him, the tips of her shoes touching his. “You summoned me?”

  He gulped the final swig of his scotch, hoping the burn would take the edge off his arousal. His dick twitched against his thigh. Nope. No luck there. His mic was still wired for sound. “Want to go someplace quiet?”

  In an instant, the seductress vanished and her wide-eyed stare made him doubt his question.

  “Where we goin’?” Sean interrupted, coming up behind Sidney and placing his chin on her shoulder.

  “Back to my hotel room. I’ve got the penthouse. Stocked bar. Room service. We can take our shoes off, put on real music, and celebrate our achievement in style.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Sean tilted his head, his lips hovering close to Sidney’s ear. “What do you say, award winning songstress?”

  Mason wanted to kick his friend in the balls, but violence wouldn’t work in his favor. Besides, Sean could be a buffer. A third wheel would make Sidney more comfortable. Then again, having Sean unable to use his junk might be a valuable strategy.

  She let out a half-hearted chuckle, her gaze still nervously holding Mason’s. “I guess so. I won’t stay long, though. We passed my bedtime hours ago.”

  “We can go straight to bed if you like.” The line flew from his lips before he could hold the fucker in.

  Sidney’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him, leaving nothing but the heavy techno beat hammering between them. He didn’t mind, he loved the attention, always had. Even better was the enticing swipe of her tongue gliding along her grinning lips.

  “Don’t get yourself in trouble, Mason. I’m not always a little kitten.”

  Want More?

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  Also by Eden Summers

  Hunting Her Series

  Hunter

  Decker

  Torian - *coming soon*

  Reckless Beat Series

  Blind Attraction (Reckless Beat #1)

  Passionate Addiction (Reckless Beat #2)

  Reckless Weekend (Reckless Beat #2.5)

  Undesired Lust (Reckless Beat #3)

  Sultry Groove (Reckless Beat #4)

  Reckless Rendezvous (Reckless Beat #4.5)

  Undeniable Temptation (Reckless Beat #5)

  * * *

  The Vault Series

  A Shot of Sin (The Vault #1)

  Union of Sin (The Vault #2)

  Brutal Sin (The Vault #3)

  ~Click Here for More Titles~

  About the Author

  Eden Summers is a bestselling author of contemporary romance with a side of sizzle and sarcasm.

  She lives in Australia with a young family who are well aware she's circling the drain of insanity.

  Eden can't resist alpha dominance, dark features and sarcasm in her fictional heroes and loves a strong heroine who knows when to bite her tongue but also serves retribution with a feminine smile on her face.

  If you’d like access to exclusive information and giveaways, join Eden Summers’ newsletter via the link on her website - www.edensummers.com

  For more information:

  www.edensummers.com

  eden@edensummers.com