Recklessly Read online

  Recklessly

  A.J. Sand

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Recklessly Copyright © 2013 by A.J. Sand

  Cover Image © 2013 Katarina Sundelin/PhotoAlto/Corbis, licensed for commercial use via Corbis

  All existing mentioned books, songs, brands, etc., are owned by their respective copyright and/or trademark owners. There is no claim of ownership through mention in this book.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen.

  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the author.

  While the author researched and certainly uses factual elements of the sport of surfing, not all the details about the sport used in this novel are an accurate representation of the sport or any surfers, or meant to be such a representation.

  To everyone who hopelessly and irrevocably loves…recklessly

  Acknowledgements

  - My parents: Thank you for not caring how many bad words I write or how much sex I write as long as I just write! I love you.

  - To my betas, the originals: You know who you are ;) Thanks for the liquor and laughs.

  - Shelley Easterling: I have no idea what I would do without you now. Thank you for reading my work, thank you for your advice, thank you for calming my (many GD) freak-outs and thank you for being a great friend.

  - Kelsie Galvin: Our long ass phone calls! So glad we became friends and thank you for being so supportive and a great person to bounce ideas off. <3

  - Must Read or Die, Page Trotters and 2 Girls Book: An Asian and White Chick Walk Into a Book Blog: I will always be grateful because you guys were reading “Documentary” when I was selling two books a week. Haha. Thank you for sticking with me. <3

  - All the other bloggers who gave “Documentary” a chance: Thank you so much for reading my long ass book! Thank you for reaching out to me! Thank you for spreading the word. What you do will never be a thankless job.

  - Person reading this: THANK YOU!!!! Thank you for putting up with my crazy (ideas, personality, and just the in general crazy) and for your interest in my work. It means more than you will ever know.

  Chapter 1 Beautiful. Crazy. Life.

  Wes Elliott flicked his eyes up from the rack of Scrabble letters in front of him to Madison’s face when her foot rubbed his bare inner thigh beneath the table. Her gaze was trained on her own letters, but she was fighting a grin as she caressed his skin with her toes. Though he shivered, Wes ignored the heat building in his groin.

  “Stop it,” he warned in a whisper.

  From his left, Natalie’s hand slid across his naked stomach and fell to his other thigh. More blood rush. More distraction. He was competitive enough to ignore two beautiful, naked women, but the touching…it was getting to be too much. Madison’s foot gave his crotch a gentle tap, and Wes pushed away from the table. “Whoa, ladies, you’re disobeying the rules of naked Scrabble. And two on one isn’t exactly fair,” he added, before he smirked.

  “You didn’t seem to mind last night, Wesley,” Natalie reminded him with a wag of her finger.

  “Oh? Enlighten me.”

  “It was like this…but over there,” she said, ticking her head toward the hotel room bed. “Play ‘QI’ where the ‘S’ is. Right there,” she said to Madison. Then she touched the board and squeezed Wes’ thigh at the same time. “Triple word score and you’ve made another word.”

  “Dammit, Natalie. This is really not okay,” Wes said, genuinely disgruntled as he shifted his letters around and eyed another spot to put a new word. He and Madison had played enough the last few days for him to be well versed in her word placement strategy.

  Natalie shifted in her seat and released his thigh. He sighed in relief. With a hard-on, he’d never finish this game, and he always wondered why it wasn’t any woman’s go-to approach with him. Hard dick, game lost.

  “Dude, you’re killing her right now. Mads is not going to catch up.” Natalie crossed her arms.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, bestie. I beat him three days ago.” Madison put ‘QI’ where Natalie had showed her.

  “Not true,” Wes said to her, smiling. “What if I were touching you like that while you were trying to play?” he asked Natalie.

  Natalie leaned in close to him and balanced her weight on the edge of his chair so that her brown hair and breasts were on his arm. “I’d totally be okay with it.” He knew she was trying to mess with his concentration...and it was almost working. His cell rang just as he figured out what he planned to spell out, a double word score that would completely take away any slight challenge Madison posed. He walked into the suite’s living room, inadvertently crushing a condom wrapper beneath his heel. His manager’s name, Mickey, lit the screen of his iPhone. Third call this morning.

  “I’m coming,” Wes answered, adding a groan.

  “Last night!” Madison shouted after a snort. He looked around the suite and was almost embarrassed at its state. His clothes, their clothes, evidence of just how much fun three naked people can have in one night, and the platters from last night’s room service were scattered across the place. It wasn’t really trashed, not in the rock star sense, but housekeeping wouldn’t be thrilled with how much work would have to be done to get it back in order. Wes found his wallet and pulled out two twenties for the tip. He froze when he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror. Not as horrid as the room but close: unruly blond hair and blue eyes tinged red with fatigue, but at least he had gotten incredibly tan over the last few days.

  He peeked into the bedroom when the ladies laughed suddenly. Madison had moved to the other side of the table, his side, and was peering at his letters, much to his annoyance. Wes was so into Scrabble he often took a snapshot of the board setup so that he could continue games later. He snapped his fingers at her in silent condemnation, which only made them laugh more.

  “You were supposed to be downstairs twenty minutes ago, Wesley,” Mickey said with heightened irritation, and it was almost parental in tone, but this was their usual exchange, so Wes felt no more remorse than a tiny pinch of guilt. Wes was always running late; Mickey was always complaining about it. “You have to be at the airport in two hours. Renting helicopters costs Lava money, you know—by the hour.”

  Today, he was filming more scenes for his first-ever feature in a national commercial for his long-time surfing sponsor, Lava Energy Drink, as they introduced a new line of diet energy products to the market. The company was trying to sell them to males within their twenty-something demographic, so Wes was spending the day jumping out of a helicopter and getting barreled by hulking waves. Yesterday, after the director had filmed take after take of him running along a beach and paddling out to catch a wave, the helicopter had towed him around while he was on his surfboard so he could make higher aerials off the water. Because diet drinks for men needed to be advertised in the most extreme way possible.

  See that surfer? He’d like to maintain his figure while performing those insane tricks. Wes laughed at his own joke. He wasn’t complaining though; he loved his job. Being a professional free surfer meant traversing the globe in search of isolated islands where treacherous waves—those that frightened land people—rose up in the
distance, getting filmed on them, and then astounding surfing fans with whatever tricks he could come up with.

  “I’m on my way,” Wes insisted. “Right now.” Madison, fingers entwined in her blonde hair, was still nude, but with a hotel room robe draped over her shoulders as she walked over and pressed a soft kiss right between his pectorals. His eyelids fluttered as she worked her tongue against his skin and ran her fingers down his abs and pelvis before her hand folded around his penis. Happy trail, indeed.

  “I’m not kidding, Wes.”

  “I won’t be late—”

  “‘Eeeer…later than I already am.’ That’s what you mean. The later the shoot starts, the later you’ll be headed out for your flight home. Get going. Please.” And without a good-bye, Mickey was gone. God, the guy was so uptight, but Wes had hired him to bear the weight of all the worries regarding his professional life so he wouldn’t have to.

  “We’re not finishing the game?” Madison asked with a pout as she wrapped her arms around his torso, her bright green eyes flashing with lust. She didn’t care about the game.

  “Doesn’t look that way. When do you guys head back to the States? Maybe we can finish it up if we’re ever in the same place again. You have my number. Call me whenever you’re in L.A.” And he meant that. He had met her a week ago on the resort’s beach while a local friend of his filmed him surfing for fun when he first arrived on Viti Levu, one of the Fijian islands. Madison and Natalie were both vacationing UMass students, and Wes was a sucker for college girls—but all women, really. They were there with a bunch of friends, and Wes and Madison had landed in his bed pretty quickly after he got there, but last night, Natalie had propositioned him with Madison’s encouragement. He didn’t really enjoy having to split his bedroom time between two people—he preferred the focus he could dedicate to just one—but who was he to examine the mouth of a gift horse?

  “We’re here another few days,” she said then raised her eyebrows. “And you’re serious about me calling you? Most guys probably would’ve kicked us out by now. Maybe not even talk to me after the first night.”

  Wes nearly laughed. Meaningless sex didn’t actually mean the person was meaningless, and sometimes he felt like he was the only human being who understood this. He held the notion that no-strings-attached sex only got a bad rap because the loudest opposing voices wanted to stuff their puritanical views down other people’s pants. And sorry but his dignity and self-worth weren’t down there, either.

  Just his dick.

  Madison and Natalie were actually really great people, and he had enjoyed hanging out with them. But then again, he always enjoyed himself. “Why wouldn’t I want to keep talking to you? I like your company. Where else would I have learned about a drinking game for Breaking Bad?”

  Madison laughed. “But you really like me for my Scrabble ability. Admit it.”

  “If that were the case, you’d be out in the hallway already,” Wes teased as he strode off to the bathroom, and he knocked on the door when he heard the shower running. “Hey, Nat, my manager’s on my ass, so we’re going to have to share…”

  “You’re imposing a huge burden, Wes. This shower is only the size of my entire dormitory,” she called out, and Wes pushed the door open after laughing. He scanned her naked frame as he walked over to the shower, his gaze on the dimples at her lower back. The Dimples of Venus. Damn, they were sexy. As if the female form needed more ways to be goddess-like. “I hope the ‘no touching’ rule doesn’t apply here,” she said.

  “Doesn’t,” he whispered. He passed his hand over the indentations as he stepped in behind her, sliding his lips across the moist space at her shoulder blades. Her skin was so soft and carrying the scent of the hotel’s soap. He stroked her stomach and heard her soft gasps as he spread her thighs apart, rubbing the insides of them gently with his palms.

  Natalie turned around then kissed down his chest before she moved to her knees, and Wes groaned when he felt her mouth on him, her tongue outlining the tip of his dick, her hand firm against the sheet of muscle at his abs. He braced his hand on the wall, nearly losing his balance as the pleasurable sensation from her lips and tongue consumed him. His gaze fell to hers; he watched her devour his flesh nearly all the way to his pelvic bone, enjoying the feeling of the soft drag of her fingertips on the backs of his thighs. Sucking air between his teeth, Wes speared his fingers through her hair, and tried not to claw, as shudders cut through him. Her hands enclosed his shaft, working them along the length, and his grunts echoed around the room until a final rash of shivers pulsed through him. Natalie’s mouth tightened for a moment and then she spat into the drain before she was back on her feet. They spent the next several minutes actually showering together and chatting about her double major (French and Engineering) and life at UMass.

  “Wes, your cell is ringing!” Madison yelled through the door. Shit. Mickey was going to kill him. Once he was out of the shower, Wes jumped into a pair of black and red Wave Saver board shorts, another sponsor, a Lava t-shirt, and he dropped a black Lava cap on his head. The sponsors loved it when he showed dedication. The women were gathering their things as Wes hastily tried to put the place in some general order. He ushered Madison and Natalie out to the elevator and down to their floor, walking them all the way to their room.

  “Oh God, as soon as we go in, they’re going to start in on the questions,” Natalie whispered as she fished her keycard out of her purse.

  “And we’re wearing yesterday’s clothes.” Madison giggled. “Oh well! Picture!” She pulled her cell phone from her pocket, and the three of them squeezed into the shot.

  “Enjoy the rest of your vacation, guys,” Wes said, pecking them both on the cheek and giving them hugs. “You’re welcome in the Elliott house anytime.”

  “Bye, Wes…” they said in unison. He loved parting smiles after mornings like this. Everyone was on the same page, and feelings were left intact, maybe even friendships formed. Fiji. This is why I love Fiji, he thought as he headed back to his room, as if this didn’t happen in every other place. After a few more minutes of making sure he had everything, he was in the lobby with the bellhop yanking the cart of his belongings out to the front of the hotel, where the driver Wes had hired to chauffeur him around the island was waiting.

  After a several hours drive to the island’s coastal airport, Wes hopped into a helicopter with one of his surfboards and one of the cameramen for the day’s shoot. The other members of the film crew distributed themselves amongst several boats to ride out to Tavarua, the heart-shaped island near where his professional wet dream, the wave known as Cloudbreak, dwelled.

  The helicopter whipped up into the air and soon its passengers were gliding over the turquoise ring of lagoon that hugged the island then blended into the wider, deeper blue ocean. As Wes took in the view—the string of different-sized islands shrouded in heavy tropical foliage—he remembered how much he loved his life. He had flown over Fiji countless times and this would never get old.

  The helicopter decreased in speed once it was about a mile out from Tavarua, and he spotted the small boats with the camera crew and some other guys on Jet Skis peppered around the area. At least he’d have an audience if something went horribly wrong.

  “We’re going to do this in just one take, Wes, but try not to die,” the crewmember shouted in jest as he and Wes hovered near the door. He slapped him on the back and added, “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Shit,” Wes said, the obscenity acting as a crude prayer when he looked down at the strong ripples sweeping across the South Pacific that then swelled into six-footers. Try not to die, Wes, he repeated to himself in his head. But life, often depressing due to its temporary nature, was meant to be a never-ending reel of adventures, he figured. And this spring and upcoming summer were going to be legendary. He could feel it. World, prepare to be conquered.

  Excitement was smothering his already fleeting fear, and after a deep breath—okay, several—he threw himself out of the he
licopter, yanking his surfboard with him as he plummeted.

  The world blurred to streaks of bright colors.

  It blurred to adrenaline and endorphins.

  “Holy shit!” His heart slammed up into his throat, and it was exhilarating; he lived for the rush of the free fall. Careening through hot air. Sinking into tepid water.

  He pushed back up to the surface, quivering from the intense surge of pleasure hormones still coursing like current around his body, and he was almost sad he wouldn’t get to jump again. He totally would have. Over and over. The film crew was cheering from the boats as he swam for his surfboard, but he couldn’t hear them at all. Out here, this was his sanctuary, his solitude. Water was his air. And once he was steady on the board, navigating those barrels, he would pretty much be alone. Just him and whatever Mother Nature—his favorite girl—had to offer.

  Wes Elliott was simply addicted to freedom and the thrill.

  *

  What wasn’t thrilling, however, was being at Target the following Saturday, especially when he was ready to charge the waves currently firing off the Malibu coast. But his parents would be there in Southern California tomorrow, and his and his identical twin brother Abel’s Santa Monica rental house was unfit for their arrival. He verified that they had bought everything on his list as he pushed the cart out of the store: a nicer shower curtain, a better bath rug, a tablecloth, better silverware, new towels, new sheets and organic everything for their mom. Now they basically had twelve hours to make their home look like they didn’t actually live there.

  In the midst of his thoughts, Wes was thrown forward and the cart flew from his grasp. “What the fuck, asshole!” he turned and shouted at his brother after he chased down the cart. Abel was snickering from his seat on the motorized scooter he had just bumped Wes with.

  “I don’t like it when you ignore me,” Abel said in a deliberately childish tone as he grinned. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”