by Alice Ward
RECKLESS
PART 1
By Alice Ward
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 Alice Ward
TABLE OF CONTENTS
BOOK DESCRIPTION
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THANK YOU!
THE RECKLESS SERIES – RELEASE SCHEDULE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COPYRIGHT AND DISCLAIMER
THE RECKLESS SERIES – RELEASE SCHEDULE
Part 1: October 10
Part 2: October 24
Part 3: November 7
Part 4: November 21
Part 5: December 5
NEWSLETTER
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BOOK DESCRIPTION
This is the first part of RECKLESS - a five part steamy new adult series by Alice Ward.
Even the best laid plans can be derailed.
Andrea Mercer had her entire life mapped out—everything from her career as a top journalist to her future CEO husband, white picket fence, and two-point five children. All she had to do was make it to graduation—three more months—and that perfect life would begin.
But Andrea isn’t immune to the life-altering forces that can derail even the best-laid plans… In Andrea’s case, that force is Jace Richardson, the tattooed sexy rocker god on campus. Cocky, suave, and chauvinistic, Jace is everything that she can’t stand in a man. But it’s either cover the story on Jace’s band, Reckless, or lose the one thing that matters to her the most: her position at the campus paper. Only, as she begins to work on the column, Andrea learns that there’s more to the campus god than meets the eye.
Will Andrea be able to hold onto her dreams for the future as the sexy vocal guitarist flips her entire life upside down? Or will Jace light a fire in her she never knew existed?
The RECKLESS Series is intended for a mature audience, 18+ only.
CHAPTER ONE
Phone held between my ear and shoulder, I matched my hitched breaths to the moans coming from my fiancé on the other end of the line. Thankfully, my bathtub scrubbing action helped to mimic the sounds of passion with ease.
“You almost there, baby?” he panted into my ear.
I clenched my lips between my teeth and pushed an “mmhmmm” through my nose.
Years of practice had helped me perfect fake phone sex to a science. Not that he was listening anyway; he was too lost in his impending orgasm. But, listening or not, he’d expect a convincing ending from me quite soon.
“Come with me,” he begged, his breath so heavy, I could almost feel the heat of it through the phone.
My own breath accelerated and I started making little whimpers into the phone. I intentionally increased the intensity, building to what I knew would come off as a convincing climactic finish. But as he came closer and closer to his grand finale, moisture flooded my panties. It made me regret not giving him what he thought he was getting—me, on my bed, touching myself like I used to that first year of college.
That first year, we were like long-distance rabbits. We had phone sex sessions three, sometimes four times a day. We were newly engaged and so crazy in love, but for whatever reason, I’d felt it necessary to go to college halfway across the country. And so we did everything we could to make it work—the hushed conversations late at night, pleasuring ourselves in our respective parts of the country, connected only by a phone line, and flights back and forth as often as we could afford.
For the most part, we’d done rather well at staying connected. But as time went on, I began to miss more than just his touch; I missed the intimacy, the closeness, and late night movies on the couch. Little by little, things started to shift, and each holiday, each summer break we shared, we seemed a little more distant from each other.
With my graduation nearing, I held out hope we would reunite and rekindle the fire again. Pick up where we’d been before I’d moved halfway across the country. Start our new life together, closer than ever. But for now, placating him with phone sex would have to do… even if it was completely staged on my end.
I knew the grand finale was coming when Sean released a few guttural grunts into my ear. Like I had countless times before, I let loose a few climactic screams, trying to sound about as convincing as I could while cleaning my bathroom. I knew he was on the precipice—his groans coming through the phone quick and fevered—when the door to my room opened.
“What the—?” Becca, my roommate asked, frozen in the open doorway, mouth hanging open.
I held my hands up, waving them frantically to tell her to be quiet. As she continued to observe my theatrics, wide-eyed, hands held over her mouth to suppress her laughter, it took everything in me not to giggle at the absurdity of it all.
Thankfully, Sean’s groans had just given way to labored breathing. He was finished, and not a moment too soon. I don’t think I could have held back the laughter bubbling in my throat much longer.
“Mmmm… that was amazing,” I said, as convincingly as I could with my roommate staring at me.
That fake confession ended up being Becca’s undoing; she excused herself out into the dorm hallway, hysterics erupting the second she’d closed the door behind her.
“What was that?” Sean asked, still panting.
“Oh, just some people in the hall,” I lied. “Maybe they heard me.”
“Well, then at least they know you have a man that takes good care of you… even if it is from halfway across the country.” The sadness in his voice sent a twinge of guilt straight to my chest.
“Yes, they most certainly do.” My own sad tone reflected his, but for a completely different reason: I hadn’t been as invested as he had the past few months.
I was pretty sure he’d never faked anything, and here I was, multi-tasking when I should have been connecting with him. He still called daily, but I’d been so caught up in my studies I barely even remembered to text him goodnight anymore. He still sent me adorable emails, letting me know he was thinking of me, and half the time, I couldn’t be bothered to respond. I was shoving him off onto the back burner, so much so that even weekends were off limit for me now; it was a far cry from the impromptu flights across the country to see one another.
“Hey, no sad voice,” he soothed, apparently sensing my sadness. “Just three more months, and this is all over. You’ll be home, we can start planning for the wedding. We’re almost there.”
I would have given almost anything to be able to reach through that phone and hug him right then. He’d always been so wonderfully supportive of my goals and dreams…
And here I couldn’t even oblige with a few phone sex sessions a week?
Wow, I kind of sucked at being a fiancé.
“Andrea?”
I sighed softly into the receiver. “I know.”
“Hey,” he said, voice perking up a bit. “How about you come up to see me next weekend?”
“But our anniversary isn’t for another two weeks.” There I went, making excuses again.
“Right, but don�
��t you have a test that week?”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “But I have tests almost every week.”
“What about this weekend?”
I blew out a huff of air, sending my overgrown bangs up around my head. “I can’t. I have a story to cover for the paper.”
“Oh? What for?”
“Covering a rock concert on campus.” I rolled my eyes at the prospect.
Concerts weren’t really my scene, especially rock ones. Not that I didn’t have an appreciation for rock music—or any other music, for that matter. I just wasn’t a fan of rowdy crowds and ear-piercing squeals from over-amplified sound systems.
Sean chuckled on the other side of the line, knowing full well I wasn’t thrilled about my weekend assignment. “How’d you get stuck with that piece?”
“Marcus put me on, saying my political column could take a couple weeks off,” I said with a huff. “Our entertainment reporter is out after an appendectomy. She’s gone for at least a week, maybe two. So, since it’s the biggest selling point of the paper, it has to be covered.”
“Sorry, babe,” Sean responded. “It’s just one concert though, right?”
Always my silver lining.
“I hope so,” I said. “Well, hey. I should get ready to go. Becca will be here any minute, and you know how she is when I make her late for her dinner.”
Sean chuckled. “Yeah, she could put down a house in one sitting if someone served it to her.”
“Tell me about it.” I didn’t even try to hide the jealousy from my voice; that girl could eat anything and never gain a pound. It made me sick.
“Well, I love you,” he said. “Talk to you soon.”
“Love you, too.”
I hit the end call button on my phone and stared at it for a moment, a little sad and a slight bit lonely. I had Becca, a few friends, and my journalism crew, but I was homesick. All the friends in the world couldn’t make up for missing Sean or my parents and younger siblings.
Maybe a visit home really was in order.
Just then, Becca walked back through the door, grinning ear to ear as she prepared to give me hell for my phone sex act.
“Don’t start,” I warned, tilting my head down and narrowing my eyes, going for the look of death. Not that it would work on Becca; she knew me better than that.
“Oh, but Andy, you’d make the perfect phone sex operator,” she joked, eyes dancing wildly with laughter. “Sean would surely agree.”
“Ugh,” I huffed, grabbing my towel off the rack and tossing it at her face.
We both giggled as she caught it in mid-air.
“Well, at least I worked up an appetite,” I said with an eye roll. “You ready to eat?”
Her eyes went wide in mock horror. “What kind of question is that, woman?”
I chuckled, grabbed my purse, and followed her out the door.
CHAPTER TWO
Our bellies were full and our heads were fuzzy with wine as we made our way back toward the dorms. A night off sounded like heaven, but I had studying to do. That wasn’t happening without caffeine, so we decided to stop at the campus coffee shop.
“Mmmm…” Becca hummed, inhaling deeply as we walked through the door.
I nodded, taking in my own deep breath and releasing it, like a worship ritual to the nutty scent filling the air. I didn’t even have to look around to know there were college students tucked into tables, studying or chatting with their friends under the dim lighting. I didn’t need my sense of smell to tell that today’s special was the cherry turnover; cherry turnovers were always the sale on Wednesdays.
This place was like a second home to me, a place I’d found solace from freezing winters and horribly humid springs. I would miss it almost as much as I would miss Becca.
I’d been pretty skeptical she and I would have anything in common when I’d first arrived. This pink-and-black-haired rail of a girl had been tacking up pink and purple skull and crossbones on the wall when I walked through the door of our dorm that first day. Her whole side of the room looked like Jack Skellington had thrown up on it. Add in her ratted up jeans, numerous piercings, strange voodoo dolls, and dark fairies, and I’m surprised I hadn’t stormed out of the room to strangle the person responsible for screwing up the room pairings.
But all that changed when she turned around to greet me. Before I could even shut the door, she was at my side, helping me pull all my bags into the room. As she helped me unpack, she wore the biggest, whitest smile I’d ever seen. Green eyes sparkled from beneath all her dark make-up and piercings as she told me all about her major, her family back home, and her love for all things Johnny Depp.
She ended up being one of the best friends I’d ever had.
No one else on the planet could handle my anal retentiveness with the same grace, style, and humor she could. There wasn’t another roommate on campus that would have put up with my incessant cleaning and night owl habits. She also happened to be the one person that kept me sane during my struggles over the distance between me and Sean. And, all joking aside, she gave me my space when he and I needed some alone time on the phone.
“Oh, I think I’ll take a tall cup of him,” she said, licking her lips as she interrupted my moment of nostalgia.
I followed her gaze to a booth in the corner. “Who?” I asked, still searching.
All I saw was a tatted up guy with dark patches of grease on his arms and face, sitting in the corner, reading some magazine. Surely that couldn’t be him, I thought. But the look in her eyes told me it most definitely was. “Him?” I asked for clarification, nodding my head slightly in grease-boy’s direction.
“Oh yeah,” she responded in a heated moan. “I love a man who likes to get dirty.”
“Oh, God, Becca, TMI.” I was met with a back-handed smack to my shoulder.
“Says the girl who was faking an orgasm on the telephone just a few short hours ago.”
“Hey, Sean is a classy, well put-together guy,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Ah, but if he were the kink to your chain, you wouldn’t need to fake it now, would you?” She asked, waggling her eyebrows.
“Kink to my what?!” I squealed out, a little too loudly.
A few heads turned to look at me, and I was sure that greasy dude in the corner had just tilted his head a little, as if he were trying to hear me better.
Great. Just great. Now everyone on campus is going to think I’m some kind of freak.
Nothing gets around in college better than rumors… well, unless you counted chlamydia.
“I’ll have you know,” I said, leaning into her and dropping my voice an octave so no one else could hear. “Sean is an amazing lover. He fulfills me in every way possible—mentally, emotionally, and physically.”
“Okay, okay,” Becca said, shaking her head, grinning as she lifted her hands in surrender. “I was just kidding, anyway. Four years and you should know by now when I’m pulling your chain, chick. I know you’re engaged.”
I relaxed a little, but I could still feel the heat in my cheeks from my embarrassing outburst. To add insult to injury, I was pretty sure Becca’s lust interest was watching me as I stepped up to the counter to order my skinny mocha.
“Five dollars and eighty-five cents,” the barista said, her blue eyes never quite meeting mine as she gave me my total.
I was reaching for my wallet when a deep, melodic voice spoke up from behind me. “‘Excuse me? Miss?” The soothing sound sent a vibration through my body, right into the pit of my stomach. A faint, metallic scent, mixed with something citrusy, assaulted my nose.
I didn’t have to turn around to know where the voice came from; Becca’s death grip on my arm told me everything I needed to know.
“I’d like to pay for your drinks,” he continued, sidling up to me at the counter.
I forced a tight smile to my lips, “No thank you,” I responded, turning my head slightly but not even bothering to make eye contact; that was the best way to
deter rabid dogs, wasn’t it?
But the barista completely ignored me and extended her hand to the man behind me. “Of course,” she gushed, drool practically dripping from her pretty red lips.
His inked arm snaked around me. I instinctively recoiled away from it, sinking against Becca for a moment. But just as the man stepped around me, giving me the smuggest smile I’d ever witnessed, something in me snapped.
“Now, you wait a minute,” I barked at the barista. “I don’t need anyone to pay for my drinks.” She narrowed her eyes at me, but I didn’t care; I was already throwing insults at tattoo boy. “And who do you think you are, trying to pay for someone’s drinks without even asking them permission first? Who died and made you God?”
He didn’t speak, and he didn’t move. He just stared at me, eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite read. Irritation? Anger? Humor? I wasn’t sure… until the smile started to pull at the edges of his lips.
Anger boiled in my veins under his amused stare of silence. My chest—rising and falling quickly—was a clear indication I needed to grab my coffee and get the hell out of there. Preferably before I did something completely irrational, like smack the shit-eating grin off of that handsome but smug face of his.
I turned abruptly, stiffening my shoulders as I turned back to the barista. “Here,” I said, sharply, as I shoved my card in her direction. “For my order. Hers, too.” I said, turning to look at Becca. Only, she didn’t respond. She just stood there, staring at me, jaw dragging on the tile floor.
Thank goodness I knew what she usually ordered. “Grande white chocolate, please.”
“I’m sorry, miss,” the barista said, oozing with contempt. “I already ran his card. I can put the white chocolate on yours, though.”
Oh, that did it.
“You know what?” I snapped, giving both the barista and Mr. High and Mighty a pointed stare. “Forget it. Just cancel my drink.”
I stormed toward the door but only made it a few steps before realizing Becca wasn’t behind me. She was still rooted to the ground, dumbly bouncing her eyes between the barista and pretty boy. I stomped over, threaded her arm through mine and practically dragged her out the front door.
