Recklessly (2 page)

“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 helicopter, 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?”

“Dude, why are you on that?” Wes sneered at his brother. He loved the guy, but he knew if Abel ever turned up missing, he’d gladly admit to being behind it.

“Doc said to take it easy, remember?” Abel replied with a smirk as he abandoned the scooter with a line of shopping carts. He surfed too, but he wasn’t back at full strength yet following the surgery he’d had for a torn rotator cuff not too long ago, and that was why he hadn’t participated in the commercial filming, since he was still doing physical therapy.

“Of course. You need to ride a scooter ‘cause you hurt your shoulder. Seems legit.” Wes shoved some of the lighter plastic bags into his brother’s hands, and they started for the crowded parking lot toward Wes’ Land Rover just as a red motorcycle pulled up to the crosswalk. The helmeted rider signaled for them to keep going, and Wes twisted his head to watch the bike glide off behind them. Tight leather pants, nice ass, tiny frame. Definitely a chick. And he liked any who preferred to ride things.

“You think Jamie’ll want to come over and play nurse?” Abel asked, referring to his former friend-with-benefits who was also part of their main circle of friends.

“No way, dude. She freakin’ hates you, and she’s happy now. You
know
you blew it a long time ago.”

“She’ll be back,” Abel countered with a tone of defiance and puffed up arrogance. Wes swung a skeptical look in his direction, but he let his expression soften into something more supportive because he knew his brother was hurting. And they had partied like crazy earlier in the year as a result. Abel was actively pursuing Jamie now, even though she was in a relationship, and one that had gotten pretty serious over the last year. Wes actually liked that guy—everyone did—so Abel was sleeping his way through Los Angeles and literally burying his feelings in everyone else.

But it was impossible to fuck someone out of your system. Wes had tried to tell him that but Abel seemed determined to prove him wrong.

Wes felt bad for him, pitied him even, and that was why he didn’t really bother with deep romantic attachment. Sure, he saw himself at forty
maybe
—a very weak maybe—with kids, and maybe on his second wife, but the thought of getting serious with anyone right now was not only frightening but also a waste of his most virile years. His friends, Ribsy, Kai and Bryson, were all romantically involved with great women—Kai’s girlfriend was actually one of his best friends now—but, to him, it seemed like he had been the only one who meant it during all those drunken pledges to “stay single and screw” until thirty.

He’d had an amazing time with Madison and Natalie, and he always liked the women he slept with, of course, but he also always made sure that they were of like minds. They could hang out and spend as much time together as they both wanted, as long as the woman never tried to turn it into anything else. Then they could always part ways without any scorn and even rekindle things later. It wasn’t that Wes didn’t believe in genuine love, because he knew parents loved their children, for instance, but he took a more cynical view of any other kind. He just thought romantic love was far more complicated and painful than anyone was willing to admit.

“We could hit up Nathan’s and be back in time to take care of the house, right?”  He lifted the rear door of the Land Rover so they could put the bags in.

“Yeah. Let’s do it, dude.
Fuck my shoulder
.” Abel’s expression brightened, and Wes was glad to see him cheer up a bit.

“Uh…I wouldn’t go that far, buddy. I need you out there really killin’ it with me soon, so if we go, you can’t overdo it.”

“So…I already have a mom, dude, and by the way, she said Char ended up changing her mind; she’s spending the summer in L.A. instead of New York. Her flight gets in around the same time as theirs, so they’re bringing her, too,” he added as he climbed into the car and Wes cranked the engine.

Charlotte was their twenty-year-old cousin, and she was the closest to a little sister they had, so they were both really protective of her. She had lived with them during the school year two years ago. Wes eased backward out of the parking space, twisting to look behind him. “Oh, boy. Didn’t she just leave here for the sum—” The slow moving Land Rover suddenly tapped an object. “Fuck!”

“Shit! Person or car?” Abel asked in worried excitement.

Wes stuck his head out the window and was surprised to spot the back half of a red motorcycle. He recognized it as the one from earlier, and his pulse rate flew.
Tight leather pants. Nice ass
. He drove the car forward, turned the engine off and hopped out. His eyes widened and his mouth went dry when he spotted the face once hidden beneath the helmet. .Long, dark brown hair, full lips, pale skin. Dimple, just one, in the right cheek. He found her incredibly beautiful, like the making him slightly nervous kind. Gorgeous women weren’t universally mean, but they all knew they could be if they wanted, because the world allowed it. So sometimes, even he, Wes Elliott, was nervous.

He liked where she was curvy, too. Breasts. Ass. And Wes was an ass guy, so he was ecstatic when the leather accentuated the rounded shape of hers as she leaned forward to inspect her bike. “You okay?” he asked, victorious in the challenge of bringing his eyes back up to her face.

She cleared her throat after she nodded. “Sorry. I thought I could get by you faster.”

“
You
hit
us
?” Abel asked, looking panicked when he got to the back of the car, but his face soon reflected the same look Wes’ had just a few seconds before, as he appraised her. Wes shot his brother a disapproving smirk.
I saw her first.

“Damn,” she said with a soft smile as her gaze flitted between him and Abel. “Twins? This is, like, how every porno starts…at least in my mind, anyway.”

They’d barely been speaking for a few minutes and she had no qualms referring to sex to complete strangers. Wes grinned; he liked her already. “Doesn’t look like any major damage happened,” he assured her. He scanned the shape of her legs, disappointed that they were currently covered, before his gaze found the moderate showing of cleavage popping up from the neckline of her lace tank top as she shimmied out of her jacket.

Abel smacked Wes on the shoulder and chuckled. “You’re not even looking at the car, dipshit.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll do that.”

              He didn’t care about his car for the moment; he wanted to know more about her, so he stuck his hand out between them. “Wes.”

              “Lana,” she said, slipping her small hand into his. It was incredibly soft, and he wasn’t sure why that surprised him. Maybe because she rode a motorcycle. At first glance, just based on looks alone, she read as dainty, like she’d steer clear of guys on bikes, not ride one herself. But there it was, and not less than a few minutes ago, her thighs had been gripping it.
Her thighs.
Wes’ gaze dropped to scan her long legs again, all the way down to where they were crossed at the ankles.

              “You’re stunning,” he said, eyes popping back up. He zeroed in on her lips, and thought about all the things he wanted to see them do and all the places he wished they’d end up. He was suddenly aware of how hard his dick was pressing against the inside of his jeans.

              “I bet you say that to all the girls who hit you.”

              “You know, no one at your insurance company has to know about you hitting me…as long as
you
take
me
out sometime,” he said with a half-smile and a laugh. It was a pretty lame line, even for a joke, but all the activity from the brain synapses necessary to recall his witty one-liners were being diverted straight to his crotch. Not a bad place for them to end up, though.

              “This is by far the most romantic way I’ve ever been extorted in my entire life,” she said with sarcasm, rolling her eyes. “They don’t have to know because there’s no damage but, fine, I’ll take you out. You’ve been on a bike before?”

              “I’ve ridden my brother’s once or twice.
Alone
.” Wes smirked. “No fucking way I’m riding sitting behind you.”

              Lana laughed, and it was such a delightful sound that the minute he heard it, he wanted to make it his duty to ensure that it happened again. She tossed her head back and he got a better look at her elongated neck at the new angle. He loved kissing the hollow at the collarbone just below the neck and above the chest. Tits and ass were great, but there was something about a woman’s exposed neck that just made him insane. He imagined his tongue sliding up hers, feeling the vibration on his lips from her laughter. And then his mind leaped to what she might look like when she let go.
Really
let go. Her “O” face. His erection pulsated.