RECKLESS - Part 1 Read Online Free PDF Page A

from his hand like an extension of his own body, he sauntered toward the microphone. His dingy, cut-up jeans clung to all the right places. A black t-shirt, emblazoned with the name of his band, fit his muscular curves like a second skin. His hair shimmered under the bright lights, and the contours of his face made his five o’clock shadow more alluring than should ever be allowed.
    Becca bumped me with her shoulder. “Um, I think you’ve got a little drool going on there,” she said with a smirk.
    I bumped her right back. “Shut up. I do not. I’m just thirsty.”
    “Right,” Becca said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
    Moments later, the band started plucking strings, testing the equipment to calibrate it for their performance. Seconds after that, Jace put his lips to the microphone.
    “Good evening, Houston!” His deep voice reverberated through my chest, all the way into the pit of my stomach. “Let’s rock!”
    When he began to sing in that trance-inducing voice, some unmentionable areas hummed along with the rest of my body. Good God, no wonder women flocked to him like mindless sheep. Everything about him screamed sex appeal—from the way those calloused fingers expertly strummed away at the strings of his guitar to the way his words reached in and massaged your heart.
    And oh, that voice.
    Becca and I swayed together, neither of us speaking, both of us losing ourselves in the music and the energy of the crowd. I lost all sense of time and place, swimming in the sea of sweaty bodies. I didn’t even care anymore that hungry, adoring fans were practically clamoring over me, just to get a little closer to the rock god up on the stage. I didn’t care about anything, except the sheer exhilaration coursing through me as Jace Richardson owned the crowd and everyone in it.
    When it was all over, I felt like a part of my soul had died.
    “That was…” There just weren’t words to describe the experience I’d just had. I’d felt never so alive, so aware, so inspired as I had right in that moment.
    “Told you. He’s a god,” Becca said with a wink.
    “How can I… what will I say? This was a totally stupid idea.”
    “Oh no you don’t,” Becca said, pulling me toward the stage through the rabid crowd. “He may be a god, but he’s also an ass. You’re going to go up there and knock his socks off, show him he can’t play every woman that crosses his path.”
    Hands clutching at my purse with an iron grip, I turned to her and begged for her to go with me.
    Becca shook her head in response. “You know I don’t have clearance. I’ll be right here though.”
    One foot on the first step, the other in the grass, I stared back at her, biting at the inside of my cheek. This had sounded like a great idea back at the dorm and in the mall. But that was before… before he’d taken a piece of me with his soulful words. Before I’d seen him on stage. Before I’d actually stood here, dressed like a harlot posing as a reporter.
    What had I been thinking?
    “Go on!” Becca said, giving me a light shove. “You’ve got this.”
    I swallowed the lump trying to close off my airway and nodded. I could do this. Scratch that. I had to do this.
    Before taking the next step, I straightened my spine and lifted my chin. I was going to go in, guns blazing. If I died, right there on stage, at least I could say I died fighting—for my career, for the dignity of women, and for the equal treatment of all genders… well, it sounded nice for a headstone engraving, anyway.
    When I reached the curtain, I held up my pass for the stage crew to see. They held the heavy red fabric off to the side for me as I walked through to the backstage area. It was like stepping into a completely different world.
    Various pieces of sound equipment and instruments littered the area. People bustled around, zipping past me as if I didn’t exist. Some of them screaming, some of them moving equipment, and still others looking like they