Reckless (A Second Chance Romance)

  Reckless

  Bella Love-Wins

  Contents

  Blurb and Author’s Note

  1. Gage

  2. Kelly

  3. Gage

  4. Kelly

  5. Gage

  6. Kelly

  7. Gage

  8. Kelly

  9. Gage

  10. Kelly

  11. Gage

  12. Kelly

  13. Gage

  14. Kelly

  15. Gage

  16. Kelly

  17. Gage

  18. Kelly

  19. Gage

  20. Kelly

  21. Gage

  22. Kelly

  23. Gage

  24. Kelly

  25. Gage

  26. Kelly

  27. Gage

  28. Kelly

  29. Gage

  30. Kelly

  31. Gage

  32. Kelly

  33. Epilogue

  About Bella Love-Wins

  Also by Bella Love-Wins

  Blurb and Author’s Note

  BLURB

  I left her behind... but I can’t let go.

  As the lead singer of an infamous rock band, my life is a dream come true — money, fame, all the women I could want. There’s no reason to ever look back.

  But I can’t escape my past forever.

  When I’m forced to return home to face the loss of my family pillar, she’s still there. The only woman who has ever held my heart. The only one who can understand my loss because of her own tragedy. The only one who can wreck the illusion I’ve built.

  But I’m starting to think that having it all is nothing compared to having her.

  Author’s Note

  Reckless is a full length second chance romance standalone romance with a happily ever after ending and no cliffhanger. If you like out-of-control alpha male rock stars and sinful second chances, get your grabby hands on this story now!

  1

  Gage

  “Gaged! Gaged!”

  The crowd chanted the name of my band, anticipation hanging thick in the air.

  Strobe lights bolted through Madison Square Garden like shards of sunlight breaking through clouds. Streaks of light highlighted random members of the screaming, writhing crowd below the stage.

  The excitement in the atmosphere was palpable. A trickle of sweat raced down my neck, making me shiver with anticipation.

  I loved this moment.

  When they couldn’t see us yet, and energy made my heart leap.

  I dreaded this moment.

  When that same heart would bleed as surely as the fact that I couldn’t go back and change the past.

  The first notes from Andy’s guitar pinged from the speakers, wrapping around my nerves, squeezing tighter and tighter with each pluck of his fingers.

  I loved performing, loved the fans, loved the music. Loved this song. And hated it.

  It made me restless. Reckless.

  I closed my eyes, letting the music take me to where it always did. Away from the past.

  Except for this damn song.

  Riding on the tension strumming through every tendon in my body, I gripped the microphone and gave all my attention to the fans who had put us here on this much coveted stage.

  “Is everybody ready?” I cried as the heat of a spotlight hit me, blinding me to anything a foot past my microphone.

  The ocean of people below cheered, fans nearest the stage screams discernable from the rest. A few women were even shedding tears, and of course, showing more than cleavage. I knew I could have any one of them, but first, I had to survive the trip down memory lane.

  “I said, are you ready New York?”

  As slits of light danced onstage, tantalizing the crowd, I darted my eyes to Ben Vessey. Sitting behind the drums, his black hair was shooting wildly in every direction. He gave me one sharp nod, silently communicating that we were ready, and raised his drumsticks for the intro.

  The crowd’s pandemonium reached a new height as we exploded into our first song, our breakout hit, “Yours Now.” Always a crowd pleaser, we’d been singing it as our opening song since our rise to fame.

  At. Every. Single. Gig.

  It was the song that ultimately propelled us to worldwide fame. I’d suggested that it could be cut now—multiple times—since we were an international sensation, but I got shot down instantly each time by our manager. So we had no choice but to play it.

  Which meant that I had no choice but to grit my teeth and hold on until it was over.

  I gripped the mic tighter as an image of the “raven-haired beauty” depicted in the lyrics flashed before me.

  Blue eyes that glimmered with warmth, much like sun hitting the lake on a summer day.

  Curves that she didn’t know she had because she was always too busy rescuing some animal.

  Lips, once kissed, never allowed me an uninterrupted night of sleep since.

  Pushing the tormenting image away, I focused on a blonde sitting on someone’s shoulders, beckoning to me. I didn’t want to think of the dark-haired goddess ever again.

  Right.

  Red lips screaming my named changed to the memory of pink lips smiling at me, a lilting laugh that made my heart race faster even as I tried to drag my focus back to the blonde. In my mind’s eye, Kelly ran her fingers down my chest like she had back then, making sweat pop out all over my body. My cock swelled. We’d been lightning and fireworks before becoming storm clouds brewing into a hurricane that swept us out to sea.

  My eyes closed, and I concentrated on the moan of the bass guitar, the boom of the drum, the whine of the six string as all three blended together in a song that broke my heart all over again. I tried to detach from the words, tried to tell myself they were meaningless, but the memory of her face blocked out the stage, the crowd, the noise.

  She clapped wildly after I played it for her from the track on my phone as we sat in my car. She’d heard it when I wrote it for her, but not recorded.

  “Oh, Gage, I love it! It’s amazing.” Her compliment made my heart soar like a reckless dove, her words better than a big hit. “I love you, Gage.” She flung her arms around my neck. “You’re going to be famous one day, a rock star playing massive gigs.”

  I laughed. “When I do, I will always sing this song first. Because it’s my song for you, and you’re the most important thing in my life.” She blushed as I tucked a dark lock behind her ear. “By then, you’ll be my wife.”

  I was so certain, so cocky in the knowledge that us being together forever would just happen. I never could’ve envisioned a time when I would hate every word of that song.

  My heart twisted, and I belted out the lyrics as if the words leaving my lungs would take the pain with them.

  “And you’ll be my husband,” she declared, rocking back and forth with each word for emphasis.

  I placed my hand possessively on the small of her back and grinned. “Are you sure you won’t be jealous of all the adoring fans? My band is bound to have groupies galore.”

  “I know that, but I don’t care because I’m your biggest fan.” She’d made my dick swell every time she’d said it.

  “You’ll always be mine,” I growled, ready to haul her over the console.

  I’d loved that she belonged to me. That I belonged to her. It was everything to me, a guy who had never really belonged anywhere. I had absolutely zero intention of ever loving anyone else. And I hadn’t. Couldn’t.

  “Sing it to me,” she demanded, brushing her lips lightly against mine to persuade me.

  The silk of her warm lips pulled me in, and I pressed mine over hers harder, letting the now familiar zing rush throug
h my blood.

  “I want you to sing it to me while I take my clothes off for you.”

  My lower regions throbbed as I reached for my guitar. “Well, I’m not going to say no to that, now am I?”

  That was the past.

  Now, I had my pick from any woman in the audience, every night. Any night. Which was better, much better than having one woman. I could even have two, hell, three at the same time if I wanted.

  My eyes wandered to the blonde chick, now rubbing her ample tits on the stage’s edge like it was the man of her dreams. Two or three women just like her together…didn’t seem as exciting as it should’ve.

  Groupies were part and parcel of the rock star lifestyle. It didn’t matter where we were in the world, women threw themselves at me—sometimes naked in advance. Ben and Andy and Bryan got attention too, even though Bryan had been in a long-term relationship since before the band got together. But as the front man and lead singer, it was always going to be me.

  Sometimes, I dove headfirst into that. Other times not so much. But none of my experiences had been quite like Kelly Cavendish.

  She was always in the back of my brain. I supposed she was “the one who got away,” the woman with whom I would never know how it could’ve been.

  The second I thought I was doing fine, the damn song reached down in my chest and gripped my heart, twisted. Tonight, I was heading out with our resident wild child, Ben, to have a good time at the club. If things had been different, Kelly would be waiting for me instead. We could’ve been together, making it work like Bryan and his missus.

  The last notes of the song finally died away, replaced by renewed fervor from the audience. I didn’t let my eyes drink in the room again until it was completely done, and I could better give the fake grin as a reward for the cheering.

  Thank God that part was done. Now I could get back to enjoying myself.

  I was living the dream, after all. Gaged was everything I’d ever wanted and more.

  “Are you all enjoying yourself, New York?” I shot Andy a grateful look as he took over, screams answering his query. He knew better than the others why that song was such a challenge for me. “Do you want some more?”

  Screams burst through my eardrums, drowning out my thoughts. Then Ben banged out a rhythm with his drumsticks and started us off again. A faster song this time, a chance to get sweaty and wild.

  We played for hours, taking every screamed request until the four of us were ready to drop. It was one reason we were so loved by fans. We worked our asses off for them and didn’t give it up until they were happy.

  After the encore, Ben laughed and gave me a sweaty high-five. “That was badass, bitches! We killed it tonight.” He scooped a bottle of beer out of a cooler and took a long drink. “So, you ready to head out, party, locate some ladies?”

  “I’m headed to bed…” Bryan yawned as he checked his phone, his tawny mop of hair almost touching his shoulders as he shook his head.

  “Oh, we know you are, Bryan.” Ben rolled his eyes. “You never come out with us. We know you’re the resident boring bastard, but just because you have a little wife waiting at home doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun.”

  “I’m out too,” Andy interjected, a huge yawn breaking up the last word. “I don’t want to spend the first break we’ve had in forever hungover as all hell.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Ben threw an arm around my shoulders. “At least I’ve got Gage fucking Strickland to have fun with. We’re hitting a club, right? Because there were some sexy chicks in the crowd tonight, and you just know they’re wild.”

  “I don’t know. Is that really the best idea…?” I laughed when his face fell. “I’m kidding. Let’s get the hell out—”

  Ron, aka manager from hell, swung his bulky, muscled form through the door, effectively blocking the exit and putting an instant dampener on the good vibes. “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t be seen out tonight. Are you insane? The new purge movie just came out. You absolutely have to stay in.”

  I repressed the laugh that swelled in my chest, holding it in tight, just as I could tell the boys were doing. Ron was a tad paranoid. He also wasn’t beyond using something like his own paranoia to convince us to follow his rules. So we were never sure if he was actually terrified that The Purge would actually happen, or if he only used each movie release to manipulate us. Other than that, he was a hell of a manager.

  But he could be a buzzkill.

  “Ron,” Ben said, “I’m going to save you a panic attack and let you know that we’re going anyway.”

  “No, you aren’t.” Ron’s hands flung out into the air. “And I’ll tell you why. There’s been social media chatter about a real purge in the city…”

  I turned away to find my cell phone, not wanting to listen to the yelling that was inevitable. Ben would win anyway, I didn’t know why Ron bothered.

  I’d left my cell in the pocket of my leather jacket that I’d brought to ward off that still cold March night air. It was in my dressing room, so I went to retrieve it.

  Only, when I got there, it wasn’t alone.

  “Hello there, Gage,” purred the blonde who’d been in the front row, now lounged on the couch wearing only red thong underwear, her too-round tits pushing out as she arched her back. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  I knew she expected to arouse me, but the sight of her spread out like a much-viewed centerfold made a brick settle in my stomach. “How did you get back here?”

  We had good security, but this wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Either the fans were sneaky, or the security liked to give us what we now called the nightly offering. Probably a bit of both. Sometimes it was a nice surprise, but tonight it was an annoyance. I just wasn’t in the mood.

  A spot of red on the floor drew my attention. “Pick up your dress and put it on.”

  Not fazed by my rejection in the least, she pushed herself up from the couch and strolled toward me, swaying her hips seductively. “Let’s have some fun.”

  I waited for a reaction, but my cock wasn’t in the mood either. “Ben might be interested. He’s down the hall.” I thumbed the direction she needed to take.

  Stubbornly ignoring my instructions, she traced a finger down my arm and stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking my sweat off it like the flavor was as sweet as simple syrup.

  My lip curled up in disgust. I needed her gone.

  Stepping away from her, I grabbed my jacket. “I appreciate you coming to the show, that’s awesome. And we hope you keep on coming to see Gaged, but as for this, it isn’t going to happen.”

  Anger burned through the seduction carefully placed on her flawless face. The sexy, flirty, fun vibes vanished in a heartbeat. “Yes, it is,” she snarled. “Everyone knows about you. You’re Gage Fucking Strickland, man whore. What’s wrong with me?” She hooked a finger under the G-string and pulled it wide, waggling a painted-on eyebrow at me.

  This wasn’t going well.

  “Listen, sweetheart, I want you to get your stuff on, not off.”

  “Are you trying to say I’m ugly or something? You’re too good for me?”

  Shit. I stuck my head out the doorway to call for security, but the hall was empty.

  “No, I’m not saying anything at all. I just…I need to go.” I had one foot out the door when her hand caught my jacket, pulling me back with a strength that was surprising.

  “Don’t go! Don’t be like that. Please, stay here with me. I’ll make you wish you could take me with you on tour.” She blinked rapidly and ran her tongue over her bottom lip.

  Sometimes, when fame crowded in on me like this woman was right now, I wanted the simple things in life. A guitar so I could write songs. Hell, simpler. A farm so I could dig my fingers into earth that belonged to me, where I’d never have to wake up and take a moment to remember what damn continent I was currently on.

  The sound of a bird chirping coming from my jacket pocket distracted the w
oman just enough for her to loosen her grip and for me to get out of grabbing range. Mom’s ringtone exploded in song again as I took the phone from my pocket and waved it in fake regret at her, tapping the green button as I strode down the hallway.

  “Gage.” It was so good to hear her lilting voice. “How’s my rock star?”

  “Mom, you have no idea how good it is to speak to you,” I said as I headed for the back exit, sneaking a look over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being followed. “I’ve just finished playing a show, and…” There was a muffled cough on her end of the line. “Are you okay? You have a cold?”

  Silence.

  “Mom?” When the coughing returned, my heart beat faster, my muscles balling up as I clenched the phone to my ear. “Mom…what’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing,” she finally said in a strangled voice. “Don’t worry about me. You have your tour to—” There was a shimmer in her voice that told me she was lying. It was something. She might’ve been a loudmouth, but she was a crappy liar.

  “Mom. You might be able to convince others, but I can tell when you’re lying.” That was one thing Mom and I had in common, we didn’t beat around the bush. “What’s wrong?”

  “Gage.” She sighed, her voice suddenly shaky and weak. My stomach dropped. She didn’t sound like herself at all. She sounded…weak. A thing Babs Strickland had never been a day in her life. “I didn’t want to have to tell you like this.”

  “Tell me what?” I ran a hand through my sweat-dampened hair, and it reminded me that she would hate how long it’d gotten, nearly touching my shoulders. “Just tell me, then we can discuss it. It couldn’t be that bad. Nothing the famous rock star son can’t fix.” I rolled my eyes at myself, but a sickening dread was forming in my stomach.