by Vicky Owen
Reckless Lust
A Reckless Novel
Vicky Owen
Copyright © Vicky Owen 2016
All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication my be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, except by an authorised retailer or with written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For Joel, my own rock star boyfriend.
I love you.
And for Jay, for your relentless…relentlessness.
And Dawn. You know who you are.
Table of Contents
Title
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
About Vicky
CHAPTER 1
Cerys
‘WRISTBAND AND I.D.’
Lexi flashes a winning smile at the burly doorman while holding out her wristband-wearing arm for inspection and handing over her driving licence with her other hand. The man checks her date of birth with a stoic expression. At first glance, he appears to be one of those rare men unaffected by Lexi—it’s unusual that someone fails to respond to her enthusiasm with a smile of their own—but then I notice his eyes drifting momentarily to her cleavage, only slightly visible through a gap in her jacket. There it is.
A moment later he hands back her driving licence and she slips it back into her purse.
‘Wristband and I.D.’
Oh right. Yeah. The doorman looms over me while the queue behind grows ever more restless.
The wristband is easy enough: luminous yellow and clashing hideously with my outfit. I hold out my arm for the doorman to check it, using my other hand to rummage through my bag for my driving licence.
Lexi rolls her eyes playfully at me as I finally pull it out and hand it over. Unlike me, she was prepared and had hers out, ready and waiting, as we approached the front of the line. My mind has mostly been elsewhere, worried about the eight thousand word summer lab placement report, due on Monday, while she’s been babbling on about some dating app she downloaded two days ago and how I should get it too.
No thanks. I’ll barely have time to breathe this year, let alone date.
After a quick inspection, satisfied that at twenty-one I am indeed old enough to be out in a club on a Friday night, the doorman ushers us inside.
‘It’s bouncing in there!’ Lexi says over the muffled music, taking off her jacket, revealing a crimson bodycon dress underneath. She hands her jacket to the cloakroom attendant. With her long dark hair and heavy fringe, and standing at about half a foot taller than me, she looks like a model.
In contrast, and despite Lexi’s efforts to get me in a dress, I’m in a vest, jacket and skinny jeans—with stretchy denim, because hips and thighs.
The building is practically pulsating with the beat of whatever track they’re playing on the other side of the doors. Lexi pays the cloakroom attendant before grabbing my hand. ‘C’mon, let’s see who’s here.’
I allow her to lead me through to the club proper. As she pushes through the doors, taking us to the main floor with its huge bar and dance floor, the music explodes around us. Thumping bass line, driving beat. The place is rammed with people—mostly students, the majority of them freshers.
I scan the room, trying hard to see anyone I might know. Fat chance of that with the large crowd and erratic lighting, and the new contact lenses I’m wearing don’t help matters. It’s nice to have clear peripheral vision, but they scratch at my eyes and my blink rate has at least doubled in response.
They were, of course, Lexi’s idea: ‘Oh, but no one can see your pretty eyes behind those thick frames!’
So now everyone can see my eyes but I can’t see theirs thanks to all the extra blinking I’m doing. Fantastic.
‘I see Sam!’ Lexi says. Still holding my hand, she starts pulling me through the throng of students.
‘Hang on,’ I say, tugging at her hand to get her attention, ‘I’m thirsty. I’m going to grab a drink.’
‘Okay, I’ll get Sam and we’ll join you in a bit?’
‘Sure.’ I let her go and watch her disappear into the crowd, noting her general direction before heading towards the bar.
The crowd in this direction is dense too.
I hate Freshers’ Week. Truth be told, I didn’t want to come out tonight. Nights out can be fun but Freshers’ is horrendously over the top. Case in point: the crowd I’m currently fighting to get through. I’d much rather save my money for a less chaotic night out and get a start on my report.
But Lexi really wanted to come, so here we are. She wants to ‘make the most’ of her last year of freedom before she starts teacher training next year. Hence the dating app.
And the dress.
The closer I get to the bar, the denser the crowd gets. Everyone packed in, pressed up against each other.
Hot and sweaty. Touching.
Gross.
Suddenly I appreciate the contact lenses. I’d hate for my glasses to fall off my face in this crowd. They’d be crushed instantly.
It’s chaos as people try to approach the bar while others try to leave. Some particularly selfish twunts just hang around at the bar the whole time, taking up valuable drink ordering space.
For fuck’s sake.
After a few minutes of focused shuffling, I make it to the front. Finally.
I step up onto the foot rest and lean forward, trying to make eye contact with someone—anyone—behind the bar. I adjust my top slightly. Cleavage works for Lexi, I reason. Maybe it’ll work for me.
People continue to jostle behind me as I reach down for some cash from my pocket and there’s a sudden blow to the back of my head.
‘Hey!’ Clutching the back of my head I turn to see an frizzy haired guy with two giggling girls at his side. He’s wearing sunglasses.
Sunglasses.
‘Sorry doll, bit crowded,’ he says. I think he winks at me but I can’t tell, because sunglasses.
In a nightclub.
‘Step back and give the lady some room,’ says a lower pitched voice to my right. It belongs to a somewhat tall blond guy. I open my mouth to tell him I don’t need him to help but Sunglasses is already backing off and making his excuses. No doubt a fresher, and an easily intimidated one at that.
‘Um, thanks, I guess?’ I’m a bit annoyed with his uninvited intervention.
‘No problem.’ He’s smiling at me now, leaning against the bar. He’s good looking enough—tall and with an okay smile—but I don’t appreciate the knight-in-shining-armour routine. Especially when I didn’t even have a chance to deal with the situation myself. ‘How about a drink?’
‘Hang on, I—’
‘Vodka and orange. Two.’ He indicates two to the bartender with his fingers. ‘You look like a vodka and orange kind of girl.’
And he winks at me. Just like Sunglasses.
‘Actually…’ I’m about to tell him I’m not. I don’t particularly like vodka or orange. And I don’t appreciate all these assumptions he’s making about me. But
instead: ‘I was more than capable of dealing with that guy.’ Fuck it. It’s a free drink and he owes me after muscling in like that.
He laughs and ignores my comment. ‘So, you a fresher?’
His arrogance has me shaking my head slightly for a moment. ‘No. Third year genetics.’
‘I’m doing a masters. Law.’
Yeah, I didn’t ask.
The bartender returns with two Screwdrivers and Law Boy hands the bartender a crisp tenner. Before I can reach for one of the drinks he picks both up and hands me one.
Okay.
‘Thank you,’ I say, accepting the glass and taking a big sip. Don’t want any of it spilling on my hands and making me all sticky. It’s not too bad, although I would have preferred nearly anything else.
I turn away from the bar and stand on my tip toes, trying to find Lexi in the crowd. Or Sam—but I’m far more likely to see Lexi first given her supermodel height. The effort of looking through the mass of people brings my attention back to my scratchy contact lenses.
Never wearing these damn things again.
‘How’s the drink?’ Law Boy is talking again. I pretend I don’t hear but he slips his hand loosely around my waist. My body instinctively recoils from the unwelcome touch but he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he leans down. ‘You look good.’
Oh God.
Lexi, where are you?
‘Are you here alone?’ He pulls me closer. His aftershave is cloying and I can’t help but turn my head away. Another big gulp of vodka burns my throat. Need to get away from this guy.
‘Need to go find my friends,’ I say as I start pulling away.
His grip around my waist tightens. ‘How about a dance first?’ He’s smiling at me now. It’s not so nice any more, but an unpleasant, ugly grin.
I realise I’m a bit drunk already. They must have some strong alcohol here. I down the rest of my drink, reasoning that I may get away without having to buy any drinks myself if this one is enough to get me drunk. And the quicker I drink it the less chance of someone spiking me.
Win.
He’s watching me. Smirking. ‘Nice. I heard you medics like to party hard,’ he says approvingly.
Genetics, you douche. Not medicine. Why bother asking if you’re just going to ignore my answer?
‘C’mon,’ he starts guiding me to the dance floor, taking my hand in his.
No. No, I don’t want to.
His hand grips mine. It’s clammy. Gross.
But I’m going with him nonetheless.
It’s strange. Like an out of body experience.
At least I’ll be closer to the middle of the room. Might be easier to find the girls.
After a few steps onto the dance floor he stops walking and turns back to face me, pulling me close to him. His hands travel to my hips, then to my ass, pulling me closer still.
Closer and closer.
I can feel him through our clothes. Hard.
He wants me to feel how hard he is.
No. Stop.
I try pushing back.
I can’t speak. I can’t anything.
He’s leaning down again. ‘You’re so fucking hot. What’s your name?’
‘Becky,’ I slur. I don’t even know where the lie came from.
Where are the girls?
I try to look around but can’t really see straight. The contact lenses? The alcohol?
One drink shouldn’t have had this effect on me.
‘Mmm, Becky…’ he groans into my ear, kissing my neck.
His hands slide underneath the back of my top, holding me up as I start to lose control over my body.
Jake
‘DO YOU WRITE all the songs?’
Pulling back from the balcony rail, I look away from the dance floor below and come face to face with a striking redhead. Long straight hair, tight blue dress, plunging neckline. She catches my gaze and smiles, reaching out her hand and touching my forearm.
My eyebrows raise slightly. She’s confident.
Where did she even come from?
I glance past her shoulder and make eye contact with Harry. There’s a slim brunette draped over him, wearing the smallest of miniskirts and kissing his neck. Luc’s getting hot and heavy with a decidedly curvier brunette on the sofa, and Gethin is on the other side of the room tending to his phone, oblivious to the two fan girls giggling nearby and trying to get his attention. Texting Leah, probably.
I find Harry again and raise a questioning eyebrow at him. Did you send her over to me? He grins back at me and raises his drink.
Bastard.
But the good kind. The sort of bastard who sends hot redheads to fawn over his bandmate. I turn my attention back to her. She’s biting her lip now, looking wide-eyed at the way my biceps strain against the fabric of my t-shirt, her hand inching up my arm.
Hard to decide if I should be pleased or annoyed with her eagerness to touch me.
Turned on is what you should be, say Harry’s voice in my head.
Imaginary Harry is right.
‘Of course I do.’
Her attention snaps back to me and she smiles. ‘They’re so good. I have all your albums’—she steps closer so our bodies are almost touching—‘and your voice is so damn sexy.’ She raises her hand to my chest.
I smirk inwardly. Tell me something I don’t know.
‘Maybe we should continue this conversation somewhere more private,’ she’s saying, her hand creeping up to my shoulder.
We could. She’s keen, and I’m more than a little tempted to find out if there are more reasons for her confidence than just the blue dress that’s clinging to her body in all the right places.
I look back over at the others. Harry’s girl is giggling and Gethin is signing something for one of his fan girls.
Luc and the curvy brunette have vanished, probably to some hotel room. Man, he works fast. Since he and Hayley broke up he seems intent on rebounding with every hot female that catches his eye.
I could be working fast, too. I look back at Red. She really is gorgeous, and it’s been a while since I hooked up with someone. She’s making it so easy. Too easy. Don’t even have to use my imagination to picture her naked given the show this dress is putting on for me. We’re not that far from my place. In a few minutes I could have her on my bed in just her heels, her dress discarded on the floor.
It’s a very tempting thought but somehow I’m just not feeling it. Not tonight. I know why she’s here. Harry knows what month it is. He sent her over to distract me, but she’s not enough to take my mind off the guilt, and I don’t deserve distraction after what happened to Ana.
Everyone blamed me for what happened. Including me.
Part of me feels a bit bad for Red as I pull away from her and turn back to the balcony to look over at the dance floor below, still throbbing with bass and filled to capacity. It’s not her fault. She has no idea. All of us in the band have been pretty good at holding onto some privacy, despite the press attention we get.
Irony is, if Red did know about my background I doubt she’d want to be near me at all right now.
Violence. Drugs. Dead ex-girlfriend.
But she doesn’t and, undeterred, she moves next to me. ‘Or how about a drink first?’
Whatever.
‘Whiskey, right? I remember from your last interview.’ She winks at me before heading over to the private bar, wiggling her hips seductively as she goes.
I look back towards the guys.
Harry is leaving with his latest conquest and Gethin is walking towards me.
‘The guys have gone. You want to go?’
I glance over at the bar where Red is getting drinks. It would be shitty to just leave her.
‘Nah, I’m going to stay for a bit.’
Gethin looks in the direction of the bar, then turns back to me. ‘Who’s the girl?’
‘Fucked if I know. Harry sent her over.’
Gethin smiles and shakes his head. He pats me on the back before
leaving. ‘Okay. Later.’
Grunting, I turn back to the dance floor.
Students. So many of them. I wonder if Red is a student.
Someone catches my eye. A flash of blonde hair. Staggering. Utterly wasted, no doubt. It’s hard to see her properly but something about her is familiar.
She’s with someone. Some dude. He’s holding her up.
She’s shaking her head and trying feebly to push him away.
I’ve seen this before.
She’s not drunk.
The guy steadies her with his arms and starts walking with her.
He’s leading her off the dance floor.
Someone needs to stop them. No one seems even slightly aware of what’s going on down there.
Where are her friends?
He’s heading towards the exit.
Maybe the doorman will…?
No. They slip outside.
Fuck!
I turn and come face to face with Red. She smiles and holds a drink out to me. I try to think of the words, but there’s really no time to explain.
‘Sorry, I’ve got to go.’
‘But what abou—’
‘Sorry!’ I call back, running for the stairs and hoping to God it’s not too late.
CHAPTER 2
Cerys
OH GOD, I feel sick. What was I drinking last night? I try opening my eyes and immediately find myself squinting in response to the painfully bright light streaming through a gap in the curtains into the otherwise dark room. My mouth feels so dry. And I taste rancid.
Dehydrated.
Vodka and orange. I remember vodka and orange, but that’s it.
I’m about to throw the blanket over my head and commit to never leaving the bed ever again—Lexi will eventually bring me some water and food—when I catch a glimpse of the bed sheet. The duvet cover. Dark blue, almost black.
I run my hands over it. Thick. Soft.
So soft.
It’s not mine.
Mine is lemon gingham and worn thin. Cheap and student-appropriate.
