Something Reckless

by Lexi Ryan

  “You’re fucking adorable when you’re embarrassed, Rowdy.”

  “I’m sure,” I say. Then I give Princess’s leash a gentle tug to pull her back onto the sidewalk and we resume walking.

  “Be my date to the gala on Saturday,” he says.

  “What? Why?”

  “I can think of a number of reasons, but I don’t want to say them out loud and embarrass the dog.” He tucks his hands in his pockets and smiles softly. “Besides, I’m told I look pretty irresistible in a tux.”

  “Haven’t we already hit our one-date quota for the year?”

  “My sister interrupted us, so that constitutes a do-over. I need a date, Liz. Be my date.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I’m sure that’s a terrible idea.

  “It’s a great idea.”

  I’ve spent most of the week rewriting Mr. Bradshaw’s speech forty different ways and trying to decide what to do about my job. I can either quit—cut line and run before Connor finds out I’m Tink24 or, worse, someone else finds out what’s been going on between us online. Or I can stick it out for a little longer and have a chance at the greatest opportunity of my life. I don’t want to lose a chance to work on Governor Guy’s campaign, so I don’t want to quit. If I’m going to keep my job and avoid Connor, wouldn’t it be better to do so with Sam by my side?

  “Come on,” he whispers, sliding his hand around my waist and dipping his mouth to my ear. “I don’t think I can handle another one of these dinners without you next to me.”

  “And how will I help?” I ask, but I already know I’m going to go with him. “What difference will it make having me by your side?”

  “I’ll get to spend it thinking of all the filthy things I’m going to do to you after.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sam

  I’m nervous. Fucking nervous about taking a woman to dinner. This isn’t like me. Being so damn distracted I can’t work isn’t like me. Wanting to bring her home and hold her all night isn’t like me.

  If only it wasn’t so complicated.

  I slap my steering wheel. “Fuck you, Connor.”

  Because the things Liz makes me feel don’t come easily for me, but her history with my brother-in-law makes them that much more difficult. I couldn’t even take Ryann’s very simple advice to ask Liz on a date that wasn’t an already-scheduled obligation. Liz isn’t ready for that yet. She’s too busy putting up her walls, and I don’t know what it is about me that makes her do that. We touch, we fuck, it’s so damn good, and then she’s guarded all over again.

  When she steps onto her front porch, all that noise melts away. God, she’s beautiful.

  She’s wearing a little black dress, a short thing that shows her long, toned legs and hugs her hips. It highlights every curve and reminds me of all of my favorite places to touch and taste.

  I climb out of the car and walk around to her side to open her door. “You look amazing,” I tell her as she steps in front of me.

  A blush creeps up her cheeks. “Thank you.”

  Then, because I can’t resist and because I want her to know she’s mine tonight, I slide my hand behind her neck and lower my mouth to hers. When I slip my tongue between her lips, the taste of her slingshots me back in time to the first time we kissed. She feels so soft and nervous that for a moment I contemplate what I’d do if I had a second chance at the night she came to Notre Dame. Maybe I’d crawl into bed after her and hold her while she slept. Maybe when she turned to me in the middle of the night and offered me something I knew I didn’t deserve, I’d take it anyway.

  When she climbed on my lap that night, I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to take her virginity when I already believed it to be mine. She was already mine. I just had to wait another year, maybe two. I had to make sure she was ready. I had to make sure I didn’t hurt her or scare her away.

  That she gave herself to Connor that first time, I could forgive. I had no business expecting her to wait for me. But when I found her in his bed last summer . . .

  Yes, if life gave second chances, I would do that night in college differently. I would do a lot of things differently. The first kiss, the first night we had sex, and the way I handled it when Asia showed up in my living room and told me she would keep the baby.

  Liz has always been there. This fixture in my life that always felt out of my reach. And I helped put her there. She stayed beyond my grasp because she was scared to trust me with her heart. I see that now. I don’t know how to make her trust me, and I don’t know how to trust her, but I want to figure it out.

  I don’t know how to tell her that, how to explain that I don’t really like the man I’ve become but I’m not sure I can be anyone else. I don’t know how to warn her that having her on my arm tonight started as a political move intended to make my father look good, but already means more to me than that. So I slant my mouth over hers and kiss her deeper, and she softens under me and moans into my mouth.

  When I pull back, her tongue sneaks out to her lip, as if she must collect the memory of the kiss there, and I feel myself fall down a couple of rungs on a precariously tall ladder. I’m terrified of what I might find if I fall all the way to the bottom, but for her maybe the risk is worth it.

  * * *

  Liz

  “What was that for?” I ask.

  “Do I need a reason to kiss the most beautiful woman I’ve seen all day?”

  Don’t say things like that. I’ve already spent the last two days reminding myself that this date with Sam is a matter of convenience for him. He needs a date, and I’m handy. But when he makes me feel so much more precious than that, it’s hard to remember. If he keeps putting on the charm, I’m going to be in trouble. “Thank you.” I climb into the car self-consciously, and he closes the door behind me before coming around to his side and getting in the driver’s seat.

  Sam’s broad shoulders seem to overwhelm the small space inside the car, and for a moment I think about what I might do if we were a real couple. Maybe I’d lean my head against his shoulder or we’d hold hands between our seats.

  “I’m nervous,” I say, forcing my mind to think about something other than my endless litany of Sam-related what-ifs. “I’m proud of what I wrote, and I know your father liked it, but the idea that so many people are going to be listening to my words, that what they take from those will affect what they think of your father’s campaign and how they talk about it . . .” I shake my head. “It’s intimidating.”

  He tilts my chin up with his index finger and looks into my eyes. “My father wouldn’t read anything that wasn’t perfect. Trust me. He is unwavering in his high standards.”

  I bite my lip and nod. “I just need to think about something else.”

  He drags his gaze over me slowly, his grin growing. “I think I can help you with that.”

  Judging by the way he’s looking at me, I assume I know what he means, even though he doesn’t explain. But then he turns the key in the ignition and starts driving without any of the thought-dissolving touches I’m anticipating.

  “What should I expect?” I ask when we’re merging onto the highway.

  “Lots of people. Lots of money. Lots of bullshit. Most of these people are my dad’s supporters, and they won’t give you any trouble. The only ones you need to watch out for are the journalists. They’ll try to trick you into talking, saying more than you should.”

  I tense at the idea of someone trying to get me to spill some campaign secret, and Sam puts his warm hand on my thigh.

  “Just smile and stay by my side. I won’t let anyone bother you.” His hand shifts, finding its way under the hem of my skirt as he curls his fingers around my thigh.

  The muscles between my legs squeeze at the nearness of his hand. My breath catches and I instinctively scoot my hips toward the edge of the seat, silently urging his hand closer to where I want it. He doesn’t give in.

  The whole drive there, we chat intermittently about who will be th
ere and what to expect, and every so often his fingertips sweep over my inner thigh, but never any higher.

  When he pulls into the valet parking line, he turns to me. “Your cheeks are a little flushed, Liz. You feeling okay?”

  “Yeah, well . . .” I drop my gaze to where his hand is still positioned under my skirt and then look back to his face.

  He grins and brushes the center of my panties. After a forty-five-minute drive thinking about exactly that kind of touch, it’s all I can do not to grab him by the wrist and beg for more. He removes his hand. “Not nervous anymore, are you?”

  Someone opens my door, and I stare dumbly at the red-vested man offering his hand.

  “I think this is the part where you get out of the car,” Sam says.

  * * *

  Sam

  “That’s what I see for the future of this great state,” my father says from the podium on the stage. “The workers, the innovators, the believers—they’re the ones who will bring the jobs back to Indiana, and if you elect me, I will help them make it happen.”

  The audience breaks into applause, and my father smiles and waves before exiting the stage.

  Beside me, Liz is pale. I’m not sure she’s taken a single unnecessary breath in the last fifteen minutes. In fact, I’m pretty sure she skipped a few essential doses of oxygen.

  “Well done,” I whisper in her ear. I help her to her feet, since everyone else is already standing to applaud, and that seems to snap her out of it. She claps with the rest of us until my father returns to our table and kisses my mother hard on the mouth before taking his seat.

  “That was an amazing speech,” Sabrina tells my father.

  “Agreed,” Governor Guy says as we all take our seats. “I’m afraid my opening speech paled in comparison.”

  “Your speech was fantastic, Governor,” Liz says. “The part about Hoosier pride and the two Indianas—small town and city—and how we need to work together so both can thrive? That was spot on.”

  Christine beams. “Why, thank you, Elizabeth. I thought that might resonate with this crowd. But don’t be modest. Travis tells me you’re responsible for his speech tonight.”

  “I can’t take all the credit,” Liz says. “Connor and Mr. Bradshaw each played a big part in getting it right.”

  “She flatters us,” my father says. “Connor and I tweaked, but Liz was the mind behind the speech. Quite the wordsmith, this one.”

  The string quartet starts to play, and my father and mother excuse themselves for the dance floor.

  When they’re gone, Christine leans across the table toward Liz. “Have you applied for a position on my campaign yet?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t look so shocked. I’ve known Travis a long time, and he has an eye for talent. You should apply for a position with my campaign. It would be an amazing experience for you.”

  Sabrina rolls her eyes. “Mom, Liz is a small-town girl. I’m sure the last thing she wants to do is be stuck on the campaign trail with you. Am I right, Liz?”

  My stomach knots as I wait for her to answer. I want her to prove Sabrina wrong, because her presumption is insulting. On the other hand, I don’t want Liz to leave. Maybe this started as a cover, an attempt to appease my father and help my image while keeping Della’s jealousy at bay, but it’s more than that now. It’s more than a campaign move and it’s more than sex. At least, it is for me.

  “Home isn’t the place you never leave. It’s the place where you return. New Hope will be here after we get Governor Guy in the White House.”

  And as much as I hate the idea of her leaving, I’m proud of her answer. “Christine, don’t corner her now. She’ll think about it and get back to you. Come dance with me,” I say to Liz.

  She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and nods. Taking her hand, I lead her to the dance floor and pull her into my arms. Where she belongs. She settles against me.

  “You’re amazing, you know that?”

  She shakes her head and avoids my gaze. “I’m not amazing. Your family is amazing. Look what they’re doing for me.”

  “I already told you my father doesn’t tolerate anything but the best. He’s not doing you any favors, Liz. You’re talented. Now, do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “Take a deep breath. You’ve been holding your breath all night and I’d rather not lose you to oxygen depravation just yet.”

  She laughs a little and her body softens incrementally. “No one ever took me seriously before. To be fair, that’s my fault. I’m not smart like my sisters, and I suck at taking tests, so I always told myself that my brain wasn’t important. People liked me just fine for other reasons, until your dad brought me into his campaign and pushed me to write his speeches, and rewrite his speeches. I would have thought having someone push me like that would be draining, but it’s just the opposite. I’m energized. I didn’t realize how exhausting it was to dismiss my own mind.”

  I slide a hand into her hair, letting the soft tendrils curl around my fingers. “Why do you say you’re not smart?”

  “Because I’m not. I wasn’t good at school. No one cares that you can write if you can’t take tests.” She stops and shrugs as if that explains everything, but I wait, knowing there’s more, and eventually she gives it to me. “My mom pulled strings to get me into Sinclair. She never admitted it, but I know it’s true. It’s probably for the best she did, because if I hadn’t been able to go to college with Hanna, I probably wouldn’t have gone at all. Everyone thought I was dumb. I guess those assumptions already come standard with the blond hair, but it’s more than that with me.”

  “I never thought you were dumb.”

  She sighs. “I had to cheat to pass the written portion of my driver’s test. Seriously, the only thing I can do is write.”

  I pull back so I can look in her eyes. “I never thought you were dumb,” I repeat. “Lots of people don’t test well, and, frankly, that’s a pretty arbitrary measure of intelligence. I’ve always thought of you as smart and talented.”

  Something flickers in her big blue eyes and she steps out of my arms. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.” She points toward the table. “Excuse me. I’m going to go get a drink.”

  Just like that, she slips from my arms, and I find Sabrina sliding into them.

  “Hello, handsome,” Sabrina says.

  I want to go after Liz, but my father is behind Sabrina’s back giving me an approving nod. Ridiculous. “Hi, Sabrina.”

  “Your date seems nice.” She says the word as if it’s an insult.

  “Sorry to see you didn’t find anyone to bring,” I tell her. “My brother would have been happy to escort you.”

  She cocks a brow. “Ian? Is that supposed to be a joke? You think I have a thing for teenage boys?”

  I sigh. It was supposed to be a jab at her determination to marry into this family, but I don’t explain it because I’ve been raised to be polite to the members of the Guy family no matter what.

  “I have a room upstairs,” she murmurs. “And some . . . party supplies. Wanna ditch the date and come have a little fun?”

  “No thanks.” I’m not sure if “party supplies” is supposed to be code for sex toys or drugs or both, and it really doesn’t matter. I was seventeen when Sabrina’s mother initiated me to the art of bondage and fucking. I don’t think I could stomach taking her daughter to bed after that, even if Sabrina is much more age-appropriate.

  Shit. Now Della’s talking to Liz, and judging from the look on Liz’s face, it’s not good.

  When Liz turns to face me, she wraps her arms around herself tightly. As if she needs to protect herself from me. I’m the one who wants to protect her. I’ve always wanted to protect her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Liz

  “You look like you’re having a good time,” Della says when I return to the table. She’s sitting there holding Avery, but everyone else seems to have left in favor of mingling at other tables or dancin
g.

  “I’m having a nice time, thank you,” I reply, ignoring the snark in her voice.

  “Fair warning: I’m going to ask him to cut the act. I thought I’d rather see him with you than worry about Connor, but you’re not good enough for him.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She grins, almost gleefully. “My father is running for governor and needs to make the world believe that his philandering son isn’t a piece of shit, and I am married to a man you have a history of seducing when he’s feeling weak.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Sam is only dating you because I asked him to and because Dad requested he work on his image by dating someone respectable.”

  “Right,” I say. “I’m sure.”

  She shrugs. “Ask him. I was upset when Daddy hired you, and I asked Sam to keep you away from Connor. And then there was the thing with Asia coming back around, asking for hush money. But now that Sabrina’s here, I don’t think he needs you anymore. She’s a better fit for him anyway.”

  Asia? What does she know about Asia? More than me, obviously, but that doesn’t take much.

  Della cocks her head and studies me. “Seriously? It didn’t seem strange to you that you started working for my father and suddenly my brother started taking a real interest in you? It didn’t seem strange that his ex-slut-whatever came back into town and suddenly he started asking you to be on his arm any time there’s a camera around? Do us all a favor and go work for Governor Guy. She wants you. We don’t.”

  I back away from her—this horrible woman who used to be my friend. I back toward the exit and away from the terrible things she’s saying.

  “Liz.” Sam is dancing with Sabrina Guy, and he grins when he sees me. Is that fake too? “Are you okay?”