Reckless Invitation (The Reckless Rockstar Series) Read online

I all but threw myself at him. For weeks I haven’t thought of Corey. I only think about the kiss, and how much I want Liam.

  Since that night, we’ve shared the same hotel room but not the same bed. We sometimes gaze at each other from across the room in the darkness. He wants me, but he’s scared. Of what happened to him? Of letting me in?

  He runs ahead of me, and I stare at his legs. I want to ask him about the scars. They aren’t visible when he’s in a bathing suit or running shorts. Is it something his father did? Or did he hurt himself because of what his father did?

  He’s become a fast runner. Some days I have a hard time keeping up with him. “Slow down, Liam.”

  He jogs backward while I catch up.

  I run up next to him. “You need to remember your legs are a lot longer than mine.”

  “Maybe I’m just trying to impress you.”

  “You did that a long time ago.”

  He cocks a brow. “Are we talking about running?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” I smile and run ahead.

  “Wait. Just how impressed are you? I mean there’s so much of me that’s impressive.”

  “Don’t get cocky.”

  “Well, if you saw my—” He stops talking and shakes his head like he’s mad at himself.

  “If I saw your what?” I say, teasing.

  “Nothing. Let’s finish.”

  The spring in his step is gone. It makes me sad. He was going to joke about me seeing his penis. He jokes all the time with the guys about stuff like that, but not with me. It’s like he thinks if he teases me, he’ll have to do something about it.

  I wish he would do something about it. He’s holding back big time. It’s not like he’s never been with girls before. I know about Ronni. And I’ve heard drunken stories from Garrett about how Liam used to be with the ladies … sometimes more than one.

  Used to. Not anymore. Because of me?

  After our run, we sit on the sand, enjoying what’s left of the morning. I think about how there’s only a little more than a week left of the tour. “What are your plans when you go back home?”

  “I plan on running five days a week,” he says. “You’re going with me, right?”

  “Of course, but that’s not what I meant. What’s next for Reckless Alibi?”

  “Hard to say. It depends on what happens as the result of all this.”

  “Do you think you’ll go on more tours?”

  “That would be the goal. You’ll come, won’t you?”

  I’m unsure what he’s asking.

  “If we go on tour again, you’ll come with me, right? Because it’s working. I’ve got some great material for another album. Bria and Crew are working on the lyrics. We’ll probably be in the recording studio by mid-May.”

  “It depends on what happens as the result of this.”

  He picks up a shell and throws it. “If you’re talking about you and me, you know it can’t happen.”

  I stare blankly at the sand.

  “You’ve become one of my best friends, El. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Best friends talk, Liam. After more than a month, I feel I hardly know you.”

  “You don’t want to know me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I want to know the good stuff and the bad. I want to stay up late and swap stories. I want to know how old you were when you learned how to ride a bike. I want to know who you took to the prom.”

  “I got a bike when I was seven. I didn’t go to prom.”

  “Come on, Liam. Can’t you even try?”

  He stands. “We’d better get going. We leave for Tallahassee in two hours.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The entire ride up, Liam gazed out the window. He barely said two words to me, let alone his bandmates. I contemplated not even going to tonight’s gig at the bar but changed my mind at the last minute. If this is one of the last times I see them play, I’m not going to waste it brooding in a hotel room.

  I find a table off to the side and sip a Diet Coke as they play.

  “Mind if we join you?” a man asks. Another man hovers at his shoulder. “There aren’t any other tables, and I noticed you’re here alone.”

  “I’m not here alone.” I gesture at the stage. “I’m with them.”

  “You know the band?”

  “Yes. Go ahead and sit if you want.”

  “Thanks. Can I buy you a drink?”

  I raise my soda. “No, thanks.”

  “Which one are you with?”

  I wish I could say I’m with Liam, but I’m not. “Nobody in particular. We’re all friends.”

  “I’m Paul Julian,” the taller one says. “And this is Sam Edenton.”

  I shake their hands. “Ella Campbell.”

  Liam stares at the men the entire first half of the set. When they break, he comes over. “Want to introduce me to your friends?”

  “Paul and Sam, uh, sorry, I don’t remember your last names. This is Liam Campbell.”

  Paul says, “You’re her brother?”

  Liam puts an arm around my shoulder. “No.”

  “But she said—”

  Liam pulls me closer. “Does it look like I’m her fucking brother?”

  The men are confused but don’t press the issue. They probably think one of us is lying. I glance at Liam’s hand on my shoulder. One of us is.

  “Your music is good,” Sam says. “What’s your band’s name?”

  “Reckless Alibi,” Liam says. He summons a waitress. “Can I get a whiskey?”

  I’m upset with his order. I don’t like it when he drinks too much.

  “Looks like the little woman isn’t happy,” Paul says.

  “Make it a Coke,” Liam calls to the waitress. “The wife wants me sober. I perform better that way.” He turns to the guys and smirks. “And not just onstage.”

  I don’t know if I should be amused or pissed. I decide this is my chance to test the limits. “Sorry for the deception,” I say to the men. “I don’t like to brag about my husband. I keep it a secret.”

  I put my hand on his thigh. He stiffens. I think he’s going to pull away, but he doesn’t want to break character.

  “How long have you been married?” Sam asks.

  Liam kisses my temple. “Not long. This tour is kind of like our honeymoon. Isn’t it, sweetie?”

  “It sure is, baby.” I grab his chin and kiss him.

  Liam caresses my jaw. “I can’t wait to get you home tonight.”

  What he’s doing—touching me, enticing me—is like a fantasy come true. I know it’s for show. The second Paul and Sam aren’t watching, he’ll take his hands off me. And I know how much I’ll miss them.

  “Well, congratulations,” Paul says, lifting his drink when the waitress comes back with Liam’s soda. “To the newlyweds.”

  “I’d better get back,” Liam says. He stands and holds out his hand. “Why don’t you come with me, sweetie? You can watch from backstage.”

  “Anything for you, Mr. Campbell.”

  ~ ~ ~

  I can’t sleep. I keep thinking of what it felt like to be a couple, even if it was only for five minutes and we were pretending. I turn over in bed and glance at the clock. It’s 2:25 a.m. Liam is staring at me. I don’t say anything. He doesn’t either. We just lie here and watch each other.

  Minutes go by. My eyelids grow heavy, but they fly open when he speaks.

  “I was eleven the first time I played guitar.”

  I remain silent. I’m afraid if I talk, he’ll stop.

  “Luke got one when he broke his leg and couldn’t play baseball. He didn’t want it. I didn’t know why until after he died. But because he knew I loved it, he learned how to play and taught me songs.” His voice cracks. “Because it was Luke’s, it made me feel closer to him after he was gone.”

  A tear slips from the corner of my eye and is absorbed by my pillow. Other than telling me his dad was the one who ruined him, this is the most personal information I’ve heard from him. “Than
k you.”

  He turns away without saying another word.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Liam

  Thirteen years ago

  “I hate leaving you when Dad isn’t here,” Mom says, picking up her jacket.

  Luke looks happy. He’s been happier this week than I’ve seen him in a while. Mom is always saying he’s more hormonal than a teenage girl. “I’m fifteen,” he says. “It’s not like I can’t look after him.”

  “I’m almost twelve,” I say. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “Of course you don’t,” Mom says. “I just think all kids need a parent around.”

  Luke snorts. “And some are better off without them.”

  I don’t think she heard him. She dances over and plants a kiss on both our heads. She’s happy, too. A huge bouquet of flowers was delivered earlier today. Dad is always giving her stuff. She says it makes her feel special. She leans over and smells them on her way out. “We’re lucky to have him, aren’t we?”

  Luke stomps away.

  “Don’t worry,” Mom says. “He’ll be back soon. Don’t forget to turn off the oven when you take dinner out.”

  Luke is playing video games in the living room. “You okay?”

  “Better than ever,” he says, not looking up.

  I sit next to him and watch. It feels strange not having Dad here. Usually when Mom goes to work, he’s just getting home. We eat, play games, talk. Luke spends more time in his room lately, but Dad says that’s normal. He jokes to me about Luke liking his magazines more than he likes us.

  But he’s been gone for more than a week. Uncle Dirk sent him to some car conventions. Dirk usually goes, but this year he couldn’t because he’s helping a politician on his campaign. Dad says Uncle Dirk has political aspirations, whatever that means. He says he wouldn’t be surprised if he became president one day.

  After eating the casserole Mom left, Luke gets out his guitar and teaches me another song. “I can’t wait until I have my own. Dad promised I’d get one next month.”

  “Don’t believe everything he says.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. Luke has been acting strange ever since he found my magazine a few weeks ago. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. You can have mine if I’m ever not around anymore.”

  “You mean when you go to college?”

  He bites his cheek. “Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

  It looks like he wants to say more, but he goes back to teaching me the song. I love learning from him, and this week, I’ve learned more than ever because Luke hasn’t locked himself in his room like he usually does. Maybe he thought I was lonely without Dad here.

  I stay up past my bedtime again. Luke promises not to tell.

  When I finally get into bed, I look out the window at the moon, confused. It’s been almost two weeks since Dad crawled into my bed. It’s funny, but I’ve gotten used to the smell of him on my sheets. He wears this cologne that makes him smell like peppermint. But Mom washed them a few days ago, and the smell is gone.

  I reach into my sleep pants. I can’t help but think about something he always says. “It’s better this way, when someone else does it.”

  The thing is I don’t know if it is. It’s different, but better? I’m not even sure I like it. But I don’t like vegetables either, and I’m still required to eat them. My body craves it, though. The buildup, release, and closeness.

  Am I crazy to want him to walk through the door? How can I want something that makes me feel bad inside?

  I hear a noise across the hall. Sounds like Luke has gone to bed. I stare at the door so long, I don’t know how late it becomes. I get out of bed, the craving between my legs outweighing the warning in my head. I cross the hall and open Luke’s door as quietly as I can. My heart races when I sit on the bed and then crawl in next to him, careful not to wake him. I listen to him breathe for a while.

  Then I reach around and grab him there.

  A sound comes from him. It’s the sound Sally makes when we leave the house. It’s a small, sad howl.

  He bolts upright and turns on the light. He glares at me, looking sick and confused. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  He’s looking at me in disgust. I feel stupid because I’ve obviously done something terribly wrong. Will Dad get mad? Will Mom hate me? Will we have to go back to the tiny apartment?

  I spring out of bed and race back to my room. He follows, ripping open my door and turning on my light. “Liam, for Christ sake, tell me what’s going on.” He paces in jerky strides. “Does he …” He stops, rubs his eyes, and looks right at me. “Does he touch you?”

  I shrug, not knowing what I’m allowed to reveal.

  He moves closer, angry. “You know what I’m asking, Liam. Does he fucking touch you?”

  I lower my eyes and nod, feeling ashamed.

  He falls to his knees, groaning. Then he vomits on my floor.

  I hop out of bed. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not fucking okay.” He takes deep ragged breaths. “I have to clean this mess up before Mom gets home.”

  He leaves and comes back minutes later with spray cleaner and paper towels. He cleans my floor. He gets up to leave.

  “Are you mad at me?” I ask, tears in my eyes.

  His shoulders slump. “No, Liam, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. Go to sleep.”

  He’s mad at himself? Why? For not letting me in his bed? For throwing up?

  When I get up to use the bathroom, I hear something across the hall. Then I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor, and I listen to my older brother cry himself to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Ella

  Every night he gives me another small peek into his past. He told me how he became friends with Crew when he was seven and lived down the street from him. About starting a garage band with him when they were teens. Naked Whale—what a funny name for a band. He told me how they broke up when something terrible happened to Crew’s high school girlfriend; and how they formed Reckless Alibi years later.

  I’m trying to see Liam from my bed, but I can’t. The clock on the nightstand isn’t illuminated in this hotel, like it is in most others. The drapes are heavy, and there’s no moon. It’s almost pitch-black but for a sliver of light shining under the door.

  It’s like part of my night is missing if I can’t watch him before falling asleep.

  My bed creaks. My heart stops, then pounds as he lies down behind me. I turn and face him.

  “I couldn’t see you from over there,” he says.

  I smile, knowing he was feeling the same as me. I can just make out his face. “Me neither.”

  “I don’t want to keep you up,” he says. “I know it’s late. I just needed to see you.”

  Neither of us says another word. Eventually, we drift off to sleep.

  ~ ~ ~

  The bed shakes. It takes me a second to realize Liam’s still in it. He’s the reason the bed is shaking. He’s shaking. I touch his shoulder, but he doesn’t wake up. I put my hand on his chest. “Liam!”

  A pained cry escapes him. “No!” he shouts and pins me to the mattress. It’s still dark, but not so much I can’t see how angry he is. How afraid. He looks ready to kill me. Then he sees it’s me.

  I touch his cheek. “It’s okay.”

  I barely get the words out before he leans down and kisses me. At first, it’s harsh and demanding, but then it turns into something soft, inviting, incredible. His erection presses into me, and I arch my back. I’m afraid to touch him. It might break the spell.

  He moans into my mouth. My body is on fire. Never have I wanted a man this much. His lips graze my chin and up my jaw. They touch me in such a sensual way that every single one of my nerves is hyperaware. It’s everything I can do not to run my hands down his back, up his arms, around his neck. When he grinds into me, my willpower fails, and I grab the globes of his ass.

  He immediately pulls back and rolls of
f me, putting distance between us. There is no sound other than our heavy breathing. The tension in the air is suffocating.

  “It can never go beyond this,” he says.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ll say what everyone does. That I’m a pervert.”

  “Why? What usually happens next, Liam?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  I’m afraid and curious at the same time. I’ve trusted him since we met. He’s never given me a reason not to. But what if he hurts women? What if his dad taught him it’s the only way? Suddenly, I’m the one who’s shaking. “Tell me.”

  It’s still dark. I wonder if that’s the only reason he tells me about his past. Maybe it’s easier to talk when you can’t see the expressions of the person you’re talking to.

  “I don’t kiss girls, Ella. I fuck them.”

  “You kissed me.”

  He sighs. “You’re different.”

  “So maybe we could be different.”

  “No.” He turns away and stares at the ceiling. “I fuck them. Or I watch them do things to each other. But they never touch me.”

  “I don’t understand. How can you make love to someone without them touching you?”

  He laughs painfully. “You think I make love to them? No, El. I’ve never done that. I told you, I fuck. And they never touch me. Nobody will ever touch me again.”

  I inch closer. “I want to, Liam.”

  “No.”

  “But a minute ago, when you were on top of me, we were touching.”

  “That’s different.”

  “It’s my hands you don’t want touching you?”

  “Yes.”

  “But that night in Orlando, I woke up with my hand on your chest. Why was it okay then?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can I put my hand on your chest?”

  “Ella,” he warns.

  I inch closer. “I’m going to do it.”

  He inhales sharply when I touch him, but he doesn’t run away screaming so I leave my hand where it is. I leave it there until I fall asleep.