Reckless: Destined Hearts, #4

By Evelyn Montgomery

"Such a good story full of angst, tension, banter, spice, drama, heartache, emotions, secrets, love, forgiveness, second chances and so much more!" 

He's rough, arrogant, sexy and irresistible as hell.
The stereotypical ladies man that I swore I'd never fall for.
He stole my heart once before when we were kids, and I promised myself I would never give it to him again.
One night, a few drinks and memories neither one of us could escape lands us right back where it all started.
Or should I say ended.
But when push comes to shove, will he be ready to hear the truth about our past and face the secret I've been holding in for over 10 years? Or will he run like I always knew he would? The one reason why I never let myself get too close to him again.
As they say, tigers can't change their stripes, and I won't let him make a fool out of me trying.

Praise for Reckless:

"Gwen & Rex were high school sweethearts that pined for each other. When a mutual friend gets married, they find themselves right where they ended things - with heat and passion. The book starts off hot and doesn't stop. The pining and longing for the other is delicious."

"This kept me absolutely enthralled and as entangled as Rex & Gwen are with each other. I can't wait to see what happens next in the series!"

"I knew Rex and Gwen were going to be my favorite couple!! There is so much to unpack with their relationship that you find yourself reading until dawn."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evelyn Montgomery
• Release date: Jun 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9798201108038

Evelyn Montgomery

Born & raised in California, Evelyn Montgomery now resides in Central Kentucky with her husband and three children.Her love stories include contemporary chick lit, romantic suspense, phycological thrillers, mysteries, RomCom & much more.One thing to always expect when reading an Evelyn Montgomery book is a plot twist somewhere between the pages you’d never see coming.With no plans to stop writing any time soon, her goal is to keep producing a fictional world that isn’t forced, but genuine, heartfelt, and desirable.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

REX

Scotch, neat, best you have.

Dropping my carry-on to the floor, I slump down on the stool at the packed airport bar. The only bar in one of the smallest airports I have ever been in. Pulling at the tie around my neck, loosening it finally, like I have wanted to for hours, I close my eyes and crack my neck from side to side.

I won’t lie and say it wasn’t a nice wedding. After all, it’s not every day you stand next to your best friend and wish him luck, happiness, and all that bullshit on his wedding day.

Eva looked gorgeous, too. The pair are a perfect match for one another, and shit if I’m not damn glad their endless fighting and running from one another is finally over. For now, at least.

The bartender pours me my drink, and if I’m being honest, I give the bastard a slightly dirty look, knowing he didn’t pour enough.

Glancing up, I glare at him and say, Make it a double.

He rolls his eyes at me before continuing to pour and walking away. Taking the glass, I welcome the flavor as it hits the back of my throat, and the liquid starts to warm me inside.

Who the hell gets married in February? It’s not like Kentucky is located in the damn Caribbean. Shit, it snowed yesterday, it snowed today, and it’s bound to snow tomorrow, too. In fact, it’s still snowing. I glance up at the plane arrivals and takeoffs, worrying I might get delayed. I can’t be delayed. I have limited time to get back to the West Coast and meet Michael for some ridiculous meeting between partners about franchising another club God only knows where.

Some days, I think about getting out of the club business altogether. Then I head back to Nashville or stop at our original stomping ground in Auburn, California, and it all comes rushing back—why I like the fast-paced nightlife too much.

I’m not sure I can ever leave it all behind.

Shit, I hear a familiar voice say.

An all too familiar voice that always grabs ahold of that damn place deep inside me and makes me think of forever afters and shit. Suddenly needing the feeling of her body close to mine, I turn and see Gwen standing a few feet off, looking at the takeoff and arrival times I was just glancing at. I cock my head to the side and smile as my eyes run the length of her body.

Thank you, Eva, for picking out those bridesmaid dresses.

Damn.

I couldn’t help but notice all night how the tight red fabric clung to Gwen’s curves like a second skin as she danced for hours on end at the reception. I watch as she puts down her bag, pulls off her coat, and my mouth salivates. The strap on her right shoulder falls, exposing her porcelain skin and making me think of things I shouldn’t. Maybe it’s the scotch, the long self-inflicted sex hiatus I’ve been experiencing, but damn it, if I don’t immediately feel aroused like I always do when I’m next to her.

She pulls the strap back up and huffs a little, stomping her foot, which makes my grin grow wider. I love a feisty firecracker, that’s for damn sure. Her dark red hair flows down her back, and all I can think about is how I want my hands in it. How I want it wrapped around my fist like I want her wrapped around….

Excuse me, I hear her say. Do you know if this is correct? she asks the bartender, motioning towards the schedule updating at a fast rate now that I glance up and take it in myself.

Should be, he says flippantly before turning and ringing up a new order.

I watch as she starts to sulk and think how badly I want to reprimand her for her attitude. Take her over my knee and spank her fine ass before I do things to her I’ve been fantasizing about for the last ten years. My mind flashes back to a 16-year-old Gwen, gorgeous and daring as hell in bed. But, I bet the woman standing before me would blow anything sexy little Gwendolyn did back in the day out of the damn water.

Her eyes meet mine for the first time. I raise my glass and take a sip of my scotch to keep my mouth busy instead of blurting out any sinful thoughts running through my mind. I figure this will go one of two ways, like always. First, she can blow me off and run that feisty little mouth of hers I want to kiss so badly. Or, her sweet and innocent side might show up and I’ll have to hide the bulge I already feel growing in my slacks if she comes over and sits with me.

She smiles, and carnal need almost takes over and has me reaching out to do things to her my mind hasn’t even registered yet. She pouts a sexy little pout and sticks her bottom lip out.

Shit.

I have to rotate around to face the bar and think about my grandmother, count to 10, anything to get that image out of my head.

I feel her heat behind me before I even have to look. She slides onto the stool at my side, and I wait a minute before turning towards her. When I do, I take another sip of scotch and wait for her to speak.

Sharing is caring, she whispers, glancing down through hooded lashes at the glass in my hand. A sultry stare graces her face. She licks her lips, never taking her eyes off my glass as she leans closer. God, Rex. It pains me to admit it, but I would love to feel your warm liquid running down the back of my throat.

Fuck.

My eyes bulge out of my head as I try to regain some sanity after the way she just figuratively knocked me off my stool with her comment. I try to hide my shocked expression before she looks back and laughs knowingly, grabbing the glass from my hand in the process.

When her fingers brush mine, I feel the same spark I felt all those years ago and know she feels it too by the look that suddenly flashes in her eyes. Over the years since then, she’s always tried to play innocent and cool, but behind the wall she’s put up, I’ve always seen the insecurity. The hesitance to indulge in this thing between us that neither of us has ever been able to deny.

Bartender! I shout, motioning over the slightly irritated guy from earlier without even looking in his direction and keeping my eyes locked on hers. I notice out of the corner of my eye as he reluctantly starts to stride over and then waits for Gwen to finish the huge gulp she’s just taken off my drink. The lady will have… I raise my eyebrow, trailing off, challenging her, and waiting for her to finish.

The same, she smiles, licking her lips and then running her finger across the rim of the glass, bringing it to her lips, sucking, and making me feel crazy with the bent-up need I’ve had for ten fucking years to claim her.

I have to stop myself from watching how she pulls her finger from her mouth and then traces her tongue around her full lips. Because fuck, I want them on me, in one place specifically. I raise my glass once she hands it back, motioning I will have one of the same to the irritated man who’s just slid Gwen her glass. He fills mine reluctantly, updates my tab, and then turns to leave. I wait a moment before speaking, trying to think of the right thing to say.

Well, it looks like we’re family now, she finally breaks the silence, then turns in her seat and picks up her glass to take a sip. I’m sure Noah and Eva are somewhere over the Atlantic on their way to Italy right about now. It was a nice wedding, don’t you think? she asks, but my mind is still on her tongue, and the tricks she could have learned over the years that I now have the overwhelming need to experience.

Hm, I guess. If a winter wedding is what you want. They couldn’t wait for warmer weather, could they?

Gwen slumps in the chair next to me. A frown graces the face of the only woman I have ever loved.

Don’t I know it, she sighs, I have to get home for an early meeting tomorrow, and it looks like most of the flights are delayed or canceled. Damn snow. Damn Kentucky.

I chuckle into my glass as I take another sip. I know the feeling. Michael called an early meeting tomorrow, too. The bastard left right after the ceremony for an early flight. Something about finalizing some things before we meet with more prospective partners.

Gwen’s eyebrows raise in acknowledgment of my statement as she takes another sip of her drink. I look at the teleprompter in front of us and see my flight is still on time. Actually, it should start boarding in the next 10 minutes. If I want to make it, this encounter is going to be cut shorter than I wish. I look back at Gwen and see her face grow sad before a scared look creeps into her eyes a moment later.

I hate airports, she whispers. I hate flying. I wonder how they can even take off with all this snow? Not that it looks like I’m going anywhere anytime soon. I’m probably stuck here all night.

I watch as she fidgets in her seat. Together, we glance up at the T.V. in front of us and get lost for a few minutes in the show we both don’t know anything about that’s playing on the screen. The closeness of her makes it hard to concentrate on anything at all. Always has. Always will. Even when we’re not together, she’s always on my mind.

All I’ve wanted to do for ten years is climb this damn wall we’ve built between us and break through the shitty past we created when we were young and stupid.

After another minute, she rests her hand a little closer to my right, and I fight the urge to grab it and hold on to it like a lovesick puppy.

It’s been a long time since we sat this close and she wasn’t figuratively and fuck, sometimes physically, throwing daggers my way.

I look at the teleprompter again and notice my flight is boarding. I swallow over a lump rising in my throat as I look back at her hand next to mine on the counter. What flight do you have? I hear myself stammer.

I was on the 10:30 to Santa Ana, she pauses, and my hand twitches with the need to brush up against hers. But hell, the flight has been canceled.

I sit with her a moment longer as I try to think through the fog in my brain. Would Michael kill me if I didn’t attend the meeting he strictly told me not to miss? It wouldn’t be the first time I was MIA.

I try to process the decision I’m subconsciously making as I look up at the teleprompter again. Shit, I’m about out of time. If I’m going to make my flight, I better drop all these stupid thoughts and run like mad to my gate.

She moves her hand a little closer, and time pauses as I crave the contact of her touch like never before.

When is your flight? she asks me innocently.

Damn it. Either way, I’m a dead man. I might as well surrender now.

Mine was canceled too, I lie, quickly linking my pinky with hers on the counter and watching her silhouette as a look of shock and desire fills her features.

Yeah, I feel it, too, sweetheart.

I’ve never been able to deny the damn pull she’s had on me since the 10th grade. I pick up her hand and hold it gently on the counter. Still not sure if she will turn on me in an instant and punch me in the face for what I’m attempting to do, I wait as my heart races to see where this might take us.

She raises her glass to her lips and shoots back the rest of the amber liquid quickly. Her face goes sour as she sets the glass on the counter. Slowly, she grabs my hand and lowers it to her thigh.

Fuck me, am I imagining things? What the hell is this? She runs her fingertips on the top of my hand before pulling my wrist and pushing my palm further into the apex of her thighs. If I was only slightly aroused before, now she has me painfully needing a release.

She always was the best cock tease. My mind races with all the ways I can imagine this ending. She runs hot and cold so fast. In an instant, I could be pushed to the side. But hell, I plan on enjoying the ride until she forces me away this time. That’s for damn certain.

I dig my fingers into her skin, letting her know I’m on board with whatever this is. Maybe a sudden step over the wall she’s built over the years. I hear her moan slightly the further my fingers inch. Her warm core is a damn tempting place I need to be, and the sooner the fucking better. She looks my way, and the sexy smile she gives has me almost losing control right here and now.

Want to get out of here? she purrs.

Grabbing her wrist and pulling her up to stand, I hold her close and savor this moment. I’ve craved her for way too long, wanted her even longer. I want to taste her, devour her, and make her never forget the feeling of me inside her, on top of her, taking her deep from behind.

Her eyes flutter up to mine as I pull some money from my pocket and throw it on the bar top. She runs her fingertips across the top of my belt before dropping them low and finding me hard against her palm. I release a low growl as she moans a hum of approval.

Don’t tease, Gwen, I whisper. I’ve needed to claim your ass since you stormed out on me ten years ago. I won’t be able to hold back. I won’t be able to give you slow and sweet. If we do this, there is no turning back. Decide, Gwen. Now.

Is that a promise? she gasps.

I stare into her eyes, waiting for any glimmer of doubt. When I don’t see it, I grab her wrist and pick up both our bags, hauling her and them off towards the nearest exit. Game. Fucking. On. It’s time we settled this shit once and for all.

Get ready, sweetheart, I say over my shoulder as we head out of the airport. Tonight’s still fucking young, and I’m just getting started. It’s going to be a long ride. Swinging her around once we’ve reached outside, I force her to look me in the eye. Tell me, I tease, do you think you can take it?

She studies me for a moment. Desire, defiance, fire, and years of unspoken words hang between us. She grins and grabs me hard between my thighs, holding me tight and making me defenseless in her presence. Smirking, she steps closer and hovers her lips next to mine.

What’s wrong, Rex? Afraid to fall over the edge with me like you used to be? Who’s the tease now? I only have three words for you. I. Always. Win.

Leaning back slightly, I drop the bags to the floor and bring my hands to her face. Pushing her hair out of the way, I grab the back of her neck forcibly and bring her lips closer.

I’m ready if you are. Just remember, sweetheart. It’s my name you’ll be screaming when you realize you’re wrong. After I’ve punished you, broken you, made you finally realize I’m where you belong.

Her lips curl into a smile as she brings them closer. Breathing her in, I lose all control when she pushes us over the edge and says two little words. Try me.

1

GWEN

My parent’s endless yelling shatters through the silence between songs on my iPod. Tensing, I roll my eyes at yet another fight beginning to wreak havoc for the third night in perfect little suburbia where we live. Oh, the lies these walls could tell. Before another song begins, I hear the piercing shatter of glass. 

Pushing pause, I sit up straight and wait for a moment. When the yelling continues, I exhale the breath I held in and realize no one got hurt. The sound was likely just another of my mother’s wine glasses shattering against a nearby wall. Figures. I should have known better when I walked in the door earlier and saw one empty wine bottle in the trash with Mom well into almost half of the second.

Pulling towards the end of my bed, I take the hoodie next to me and pull it over my head. Putting my earphones and iPod in the front pocket, I tuck my cold feet into warm slippers on the floor. Even though it’s March, it still has not warmed up a lot yet, and the breeze that was once warm and nice coming through my open bedroom window is now making the night colder than I expected. 

Padding across my room and over to the window, I go to shut it and notice my sister sitting out on the rooftop to the left. Our bedrooms are joined by a jack and jill bathroom, and we often sneak out and sit on the back roof to spill secrets, watch the sunset, talk about boys, and most of the time escape our parent’s fights. No doubt she’s escaping the sounds echoing up from downstairs. Grabbing a blanket, I push the window open further and climb out and across the roof to sit with her. 

She’s staring off into the night sky, and I notice a small tear fall down her cheek as I climb closer. Wiping it away quickly, she turns to greet me with a smile. 

You think they could have waited until after we went to bed? she laughs nervously, trying to make light of the situation after the news we received earlier today. 

Sitting close to her, I wrap half the blanket around my legs and then shelter hers with the other half. Pulling her scarf down lower on her forehead, I see the sadness in her eyes and how she tries to fight the helplessness she feels. I attempt to remain strong so she won’t know the fear I’m guarding. She always loved her hair. Now, the little she has left stays hidden under one of the many colorful scarves she rotates daily.

Look on the bright side, I say, nudging her shoulder and pulling her close. They say when your hair grows back, it could come in curly. Just like you always wanted. Maybe then the world could finally tell us apart.

She laughs next to me before more tears fill her eyes, and then looks out again across the backyard into the distance. 

If, she hurls back at me. If it grows back. Besides, I never minded being your twin. Just think of all the fun we won’t be able to have anymore, pretending to be each other if my hair does come back curly. Or even if….

Hey, I exclaim. Don’t go there. When, and I do mean when your hair grows back, if it is curly, I will go all 1984 and perm mine to match. We’ll fool the world, B. Imagine how much fun that will be?

We laugh lightly for a moment before I follow her gaze out across the yard, and we’re both pulled down by the shrieking yells of my mother at my father from inside. The fighting isn’t new, but more like the muffled noises of our childhood that have only worsened since my sister’s diagnosis six months back. 

I turn and look at Belle. She’s a split image of me and the closest friend I ever had. Same nose, same lips, and same fighting spirit. Her hair might be gone, her face a little slimmer from all the weight she has lost, but she is still my other half. I’ve been with her my whole life, even inside the womb. She has to beat cancer. I wouldn’t know how to live if she…. 

I swallow over the lump in my throat, not wanting to think about what the doctor said earlier today after her checkup—not wanting to admit that her first round of chemo failed. That she was already on borrowed time given a small chance of beating the brain tumor consuming her life when she was diagnosed earlier this year after suffering from headaches. But we can’t give up. She can’t give up. Not now. I won’t let her.

My father’s voice barrels through the night air, attempting to stop my mother from fighting with him any further. After a few short moments, my mother’s voice can be heard shouting only a few words, which are immediately followed by a slamming door and the start of a car engine. Tires peel out, and I’m only too sure my father was the one who escaped. My sister’s fight with cancer has taken its toll on all of us and is the one thing genuinely tearing this family apart.

Attempting to lighten the mood, I tell my sister a secret I’ve been holding for far too long. 

Hey B, I never told you. I bumped into Rex Roberts after practice two days ago. He sure is persistent. 

I smile, remembering how I spotted him leaning against my car, waiting for me. The way he smiled as I came closer. How my heart sped up, and I couldn’t even look in the eye. How he held my hand to write his number on it with a red pen. I look at my right hand and can barely make out the last few numbers he wrote. I won’t lie. I didn’t have it in me to wash it off. Actually, I wrote it down in my diary and stashed it away with the feelings he gives me. Ones I know I shouldn’t have and definitely should never pursue.

I look over in time to see my sister roll her eyes. Yeah, persistent with you and every other girl at Lincoln High. I thought you didn’t like him, Gwen?

I pretend not to be affected by her jab as I shrug and hear myself admit aloud to both of us the way I can’t deny I feel. I don’t know, B. I kind of do. I don’t know what it is, but he has this pull on me, you know? Like, I can’t help but be drawn to him. And when I’m near him, I only want to stay by his side. It kind of scares me, but it is addicting. It makes me kind of want to go for it. Even though I know I shouldn’t. 

My sister snorts at my side. Having confessed more than I thought I would about my feelings for the school’s notorious playboy, I sit silently, wishing she would speak first. Or better yet, maybe I could take it back. Haven’t you ever felt that way about someone? I ask sheepishly. 

Belle shrugs beside me, and I immediately wish I could take back what I said. Maybe one day. If I’m lucky, she says. 

We fall silent once again, and when I can’t think of anything else to say, I feel for my iPod inside my hoodie pocket. Grabbing it out, I take one side of the headphones and hand her the other. She takes it and smiles up at me. Music has always been a connecting force between Belle and me. We always joke that our mother must have played a lot of music to us inside her womb because we’re both addicted