Come to Me Recklessly

Book 3: Closer to You

by A.L. Jackson

Genres: Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

His heart was turned off . . . until she turned him on.

Christopher Moore gave up on the idea of love years ago. Now, his life is an endless string of parties and an even longer string of girls. Enjoying the physical perks with none of the emotional mess, he's convinced everyone that he's satisfied—everyone but himself.

Samantha Schultz has moved on with her life. Finishing her student teaching and living with her boyfriend, she's deluded herself into believing she's content. But there is one boy she never forgot—her first love—and she keeps the memory of him locked up tight. She will never allow any man to break her the way Christopher did.

When Christopher's sister and her family move into a new neighborhood, Christopher is completely unprepared to find Samantha living at the end of the street. Memories and unspent desires put them on collision course of sex, lies, and lust. But when guilt and fear send Samantha running, Christopher will have to fight for what has always been his.

Contains mature themes.

Release date: April 7, 2015

Publisher: Berkley

Print pages: 445

Sample

PROLOGUE

 

There are few things that hurt so much as a broken heart.

It’s physical.

Intense.

Real.

It doesn’t matter which way you slice it, analyze it, or add it up, you’ll always come up with the exact same sum. The worst part is there is no antidote for this affliction.

They say time mends all things.

I say they are liars.

Maybe time subdues, burying the pain beneath all the new memories we make, tucking it under the burdens and joys and new experiences that life layers on over the years.

But that broken heart?

It’s always right there, lying in wait. Ready to crush you when you’re slammed with that errant, unexpected thought.

But nothing could have prepared me for this—what it would feel like to look up and find him standing inches from me.

From the moment we met, he always had the power to bring me to my knees. I should have known his control over me would never diminish or dim.

I should have known it would only intensify.

Maybe I should have run.

But somewhere inside, I knew he’d never let me get far.

ONE

Samantha

My phone rang with the special chime, the one reserved just for my brother Stewart. I rummaged around for it in my purse while I was browsing the aisles of Target. The grin taking over my entire face was completely uncontrollable. I just couldn’t help it. Talking with him—seeing him—was always the highlight of my day.

Running my thumb across the screen, I clicked the icon where his message waited. I’d never even heard of the app until he’d convinced me I had to get it, teasing me that I was living in the Stone Age, which to him I was pretty sure would date all the way back to 2011. I couldn’t begin to keep up with all the tech stuff he loved.

I held my finger down on the new unread Snapchat message from gamelover745.

An image popped up on the screen, his face all contorted in the goofiest expression, pencils hanging from both his nostrils as he bared his teeth. I choked over a little laugh. The joy I felt every time I saw his face was almost overwhelming as it merged with the twinge of sorrow that tugged at my chest.

Quickly I shoved the feeling off. He told me he couldn’t stand for me to look at him or think of him with pity. I had to respect that. He was so much braver than me, because seeing him sick made me feel so weak.

I forced myself not to fixate on his bald head and pale skin, and instead focused on the antics of this playful boy. The little timer ran down, alerting me I had only five more seconds of the picture, so I quickly read the messy words he’d scrawled across the image.

I’m sexy and I know it.

On a muted giggle, I shook my head, and I didn’t hesitate for a second to lift my phone above my head to snap my own picture. Going for my silliest expression, I crossed my eyes and stuck my tongue out to the side.

So maybe the people milling around me in the middle of the busy store thought I was crazy, or some kind of delusional narcissist, but nothing inside me cared. I’d do anything to see him smile.

I tapped the button so I could write on the picture.

Love you, goofball.

I pushed SEND.

Seconds later, my phone chimed again. I clicked to receive his message. This time he was just smiling that unending smile, sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, radiating all his beauty and positivity, and that sorrow hit me again, only harder.

Love you back, he’d written on the image.

Letting the timer wind down, I clutched my phone as I cherished his message for the full ten seconds before our Snap expired. The screen went blank. I bit at the inside of my lip, blinking back tears.

Don’t, I warned myself, knowing how quickly I could spiral into depression, into a worry I couldn’t control, one that would taint the precious time I had with him.

Sucking in a cleansing breath, I tossed my phone back into my purse and wandered over to the cosmetics section, browsing through all the shades and colors of lip gloss. I tossed a shimmery clear one into my cart, then strolled into the shampoo aisle.

Apparently I was in no hurry to get home. It was sad and pathetic, yet here I was, twenty-three years old and passing away my Friday night at Target.

Ben had texted me earlier saying he was going out to grab a beer with the guys and not to wait up for him. All kinds of warning bells went off in my head when I realized that his leaving me alone for the night only filled me with an overwhelming relief. That realization hurt my heart, because he’d always been good to me, there for me when I was broken and needed someone to pick up the pieces, making me smile when I thought I never would again.

But with Ben? There had always been something missing. Something significant.

That flame.

The spark that lights you up inside when the one walks into the room. You know the one, the one you can’t get off your mind, whether you’ve known him your entire life or he just barreled into it.

Was it wrong that I craved someone like that for myself?

Maybe I’d be content with Ben if I had never felt the flame before. If I’d never known what it was like to need and desire.

But I had. It’d been the kind of fire that had raged and consumed, burning through me until there was nothing left but ashes. I’d thought that love had ruined me until Ben came in and swept me into his willing arms.

He’d taken care of me, a fact I didn’t take lightly. I honored and respected it, the way Ben honored and respected me.

So maybe I never looked the same or felt the same after he’d destroyed something inside me. But I’d survived, and I forced myself to find satisfaction in that, willed it to make me stronger instead of feeble and frail.

I tossed a bottle of shampoo I really didn’t need into my cart, but it smelled all kinds of good, like vanilla and the sweetest flower, and today I didn’t feel like questioning my motives. In fact, I tossed in a bottle of body wash for good measure. I rarely treated myself, and I figured I deserved it. The last four years had been spent working my ass off, striving toward my elementary education degree at Arizona State University, and I’d finally landed my first real job a month ago.

Pride shimmered around my consciousness. Not the arrogant kind. I was just . . . happy. Happy because of what I had achieved.

I bit the inside of my lip, doing my best to contain the ridiculous grin I felt pulling at my mouth.

Finally . . . finally . . . I’d attained something that was all on me.

Ben was always the one who took care of me. But he also had a bad habit of taking all the credit. Like my life would fall apart without him in it.

Slowly, I wound my way up toward the registers. I needed to get out of here before I drained what little I had in my checking account with all my celebrating.

I rolled my eyes at myself and squashed the mocking laughter that rolled up my throat.

Yep, livin’ large and partyin’ hard.

My life was about as exciting as Friday-night bingo at the retirement home down the street.

But hey, at least my hair would smell good and my lips would taste even better.

Scanning the registers, I hunted for the shortest line, when my eyes locked on a face that was so familiar, but just out of reach of my recognition. Curiosity consumed me, and I found I couldn’t look away.

She was standing at the front of her cart, her attention cast behind her. Obviously searching for someone.

I stared, unabashed, craning my head to the side as I tried to place the striking green eyes and long black hair. She was gorgeous, enough to make any supermodel feel self-conscious, but she was wearing the kind of smile that spoke a thousand welcomes.

Two feet in front of her, I came to a standstill, which only caused her warm smile to spread when her gaze landed on me. My attention flitted to the empty infant car seat that was latched onto the basket, then darted back to her face. My stomach twisted into the tightest knot as recognition slammed me somewhere in my subconscious, my throat growing dry when her name formed in my head before it swelled on my tongue. “Aly Moore?” I managed, everything about the question timid and unsure. Well, I wasn’t unsure it was her. There was no question, no doubt.

What I wasn’t so sure about was whether I should actually stop to talk to her. My heart was already beating a million miles a minute, like a stampeding warning crashing through my body, screaming at my limbs to go and go now.

Still, I couldn’t move. Short gusts of sorrow were a feeling I was well accustomed to, dealing with Stewart and all the sadness his illness brought into my life.

But this?

Pain constricted my chest, pressing and pulsing in, and I struggled to find my absent breath.

God, she looked just like him. I always did my best to keep him from my thoughts, all the memories of him buried deep, deep enough to pretend they’d forever been forgotten, when in reality, everything I’d ever shared with him was unrelentingly vivid.

Seeing her brought them all flooding back.

His face.

His touch.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block them out, but they only flashed brighter.

God.

“Samantha Schultz.” My name tumbled from her mouth as if it came with some kind of relief. She stretched out her hand, grasping mine. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it’s you. How are you?”

I hadn’t seen her in years. Seven, to be exact. She was only two years younger than me, and she’d always been a sweet girl. Sweet and smart. Different in a good way, quiet and shy and bold at the same time. I’d always liked her, and some foolish part of me had believed she’d always be a part of my life. I guess I’d taken that for granted, too.

But that’s what happens when you’re young and naive and believe in promises that turn out only to be given in vain.

I swallowed over the lump in my throat and forced myself to speak. “I’ve been good. It’s so great to see you.” It was all a lie wrapped up in the worst kind of truth.

I dropped my gaze, my eyes landing on the diamonds that glinted from her ring finger where she grasped my hand, and I caught just a peek of the intricate tattoo that was woven below the ring, like she’d etched a promise of forever into her skin.

A war of emotions spun through me, and I wanted to fire off a million questions, the most blatant of them jerking my attention between the empty infant carrier and her ring. My mind tumbled through a roller coaster of memories as it did its best to catch up to the years that had passed.

“Oh my God . . . you’re married? And you’re a mom.” I drew the words out as I finally added up the obvious, and a strange sense of satisfaction at seeing her grown up fell over me. It seemed almost silly, thinking of her that way, considering she was only two years younger than me. Now the years separating our ages didn’t seem like such a big deal. Not the way they had then, when I’d thought of her as just a little girl, a hundred years and a thousand miles behind me. It seemed now she’d flown right past me.

With my words, everything about her glowed. She held up her hand to show me the ring I’d just been admiring, her voice soft with a reverent awe. “Can you believe it?” She laughed quietly. “Some days I can’t believe it myself.”

The joy filling her was so clear, and I chewed at my bottom lip, both welcoming the happiness I felt for her and fighting the jealousy that slipped just under the surface of my skin. Never would I wish any sorrow on her, or desire to steal her happiness away because I didn’t have it myself. I wasn’t vicious or cruel. But seeing her this way was a stark reminder of what I was missing.

Happiness.

I bit back the bitter feeling, searching for an excuse to get away, because I was finished feeling sorry for myself, when Aly’s face transformed into the most radiant smile, her attention locked somewhere behind me. There was nothing I could do but follow her gaze. I looked over my shoulder.

All the surprise at finding Aly Moore amplified, spinning my head with shock when I saw who she was staring at.

Jared Holt strode toward us.

My knees went weak.

The grown man was completely covered in tattoos, every edge of him hard and rough. But none of the surprise I felt was caused by the way he looked, because I’d been there to watch his downward spiral. Part of me was surprised to see he was still alive.

He held an adorable, tiny baby girl protectively against his chest, the child facing out as they approached. She kicked her little legs when she caught sight of her mom. A soft smile pulled at his mouth and warmth flared in his eyes when they landed on Aly.

My heart did crazy, erratic things, and the small sound that worked up my throat was tortured. Someone was trying to pull a sick joke on me, dangling all the bits of my past right in front of my face.

It just had to be Jared.

No, he hadn’t been responsible for any of the choices Christopher or I had made. Still, he’d been the catalyst that had driven the confusion.

The overwhelming feeling rushing over me was altogether cruel and welcome at the same time, because God, how many times had I lain awake at night, unable to sleep because I was thinking of Christopher Moore, wondering where he was and who he’d become? And suddenly here was his world, our world, his sister and his best friend, the people who had been with us and were part of what defined that time—standing in front of me at Target with their little baby girl.

Aly must have sensed my panic. Again she reached out to squeeze my hand. “You remember Jared Holt, don’t you?” She obviously knew I did. There was no missing the look that passed between the two of them, a secret conversation transpiring in a glance.

“Of course,” I whispered hoarsely.

“Samantha,” Jared said as a statement. He handed Aly the little tube of diaper rash ointment he must have gone in search of while she waited at the front of the store. He turned his attention right back to me. “God . . . it’s been years. How are you?”

“Good,” I forced out, wondering where in the hell that word even came from, because right then, I was definitely not feeling good. I was feeling . . . I blinked and swallowed. I couldn’t begin to put my finger on it except to say I was fundamentally disturbed, as if the axis balancing my safe little world had been altered. “How are you?”

The concern that involuntarily laced my tone was probably not needed, because he smiled at Aly as he situated his daughter a little higher up on his chest and kissed her on the top of her head.

“I’m perfect,” he said through a rumbled chuckle.

Aly took a step forward and lightly tickled the tiny girl’s foot.

The little black-haired, blue-eyed baby kicked more. Her mouth twisted up at just one side, as she was obviously just learning how to control her smile, and she rolled her head back in delight. She suddenly cooed, and her eyes went wide and she jerked as if she’d startled herself with the sound that escaped her.

Aly’s voice turned sweet, the kind a mother reserved only for her child. “And this is our Ella . . . Ella Rose.”

Ella Rose.

They’d named their daughter after Jared’s mother, Helene Rose.

Affection pulsed heavily through my veins as I looked on the three of them, so happy to see their joy. As strong as that emotion was, it wasn’t enough to keep my own sadness at bay, and my mind reeled with the questions I wanted to ask about Christopher.

But those questions were dangerous. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to know. I couldn’t know.

Instead I reached out to let their baby girl grip my finger. I shook it a little, and that sweet smile took over her face again, this time directed at me as she tried to shove my finger in her mouth.

I just about melted. I was pretty sure this little girl had the power to single-handedly jump-start my biological clock. “Well, hello there, Ella Rose. Aren’t you the sweetest thing.” I glanced up at Aly. “How old is she?”

“She just turned two months yesterday,” she answered. “It feels like she’s growing so fast, but I already can’t remember what it was like not to have her as a part of our lives. It’s such a strange feeling.”

My head shook with stunned disbelief. “All of this is crazy.” I eyed them happily as some of the shock wore away, as if being in their space was completely natural. “The two of you ending up together.”

Aly blushed, and Jared watched her as if she was the anchor that kept him tied to this world. Then he slanted his own mischievous grin my way. “Don’t be too surprised, Sam. This girl was always meant for me.”

Good God. How Aly wasn’t a puddle in the middle of the floor, I didn’t know. His words were enough to leave me all swoony and light-headed and they weren’t even intended for me. And I wanted to laugh, because he’d always called me Sam, almost like a tease, a dig at his best friend, Christopher, who refused to call me anything but Samantha.

It instantly took me back too many years, and I was there, feeling flickers of that flame that had been missing from my life for so long. But those kinds of flames had burned me right into the ground. Those kinds of flames hurt and scarred.

“So what about you?” Aly asked, stepping back. “What have you been up to? Do you live around here?”

“Yeah, I live with my boyfriend in the neighborhood right behind the shopping center.”

“You’re kidding me. We do, too.” She laughed at the coincidence. “We’re neighbors.”

Here we all were, standing in the same store in this huge city, miles away from where we’d all begun. I almost had the urge to look behind me, fully expecting to see Christopher sauntering toward us, an apparition sent to taunt me in a ruthless twist of fate.

“How is your little brother? I heard he was doing really well after your family moved across town.”

After being thrown headfirst into all these tumultuous memories of Christopher, my walls were down, and this time I wasn’t prepared for the sadness that sliced straight through me. I attempted to steady my voice. “He was in remission for five years, but the cancer just recently came back.”

Aly sobered, and genuine sympathy edged the curve of her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she murmured, and it didn’t hurt to hear her say it. Instead I felt comforted.

“Me, too,” I agreed, shaking my head as a saddened smile twisted up my mouth. “He’s the sweetest kid.” Well, he wasn’t so much a kid anymore. Really, he was almost a man, but it was hard to look at him that way when he was so frail. “I just keep praying for him, and I spend as much time with him as I can to keep his spirits up. He’s been pretty sick with the treatments, so he hasn’t been getting out of the house all that much lately. I couldn’t imagine having to go through my junior year of high school online, but he doesn’t complain.”

Stewart was now seventeen, the youngest in our family. My brother Sean was two years younger than me, in the same grade as Aly had been, and my sister, Stephanie, was nineteen. My parents had us in quick succession and had had some kind of overindulgent lovefest with our names since theirs were Sally and Stephen. It used to bother me when I was young.

Not anymore.

We’d been a normal, rambunctious family until Stewart had gotten sick when he was nine. When I met Christopher, Stewart had been at his worst. Well, at his worst . . . until now.

Ella released a shrill little cry and squirmed in Jared’s hold. Gently, he bounced her, shushing her in a soft whisper against her head. “I think someone is going to need their mommy soon.” Soft affection flowed from Jared’s laughter. “She goes from completely content to starving in five seconds flat.”

“Oh, well, I better let you two go,” I offered, hating that it sounded almost reluctant. “It was really nice to see you again.”

Aly hesitated, glancing at her husband, before she tipped her head and studied me with intent. “Would it be weird if we . . . I don’t know . . . had coffee or something? I totally understand if you’re not comfortable. I get it. But I’d love to really catch up with you if you’re up for it. I could use a friend around here.”

Maybe that’s what I liked about her most. She just came right out and said it, gave voice to that huge elephant that was snuffing out all the air in the room. That and she was genuine and kind.

I refused to allow myself to believe I was agreeing because she was Christopher’s sister.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

“Good.”

She dug around in her huge bag for her phone, while Jared just stood there swaying Ella, his mouth seemingly pressed permanently to the side of her head as he showered her with small kisses.

Aly thumbed across the screen. “What’s your number?”

I rattled it off while Aly entered it into her phone. Two seconds later, my phone dinged with a new message.

“There, you have my number, too.”

This time, Ella’s cry was a demand.

“We’d better get her home so I can feed her. I’ll call you soon.”

“That would be great.”

She hugged me, only glancing back once as she followed Jared into a lane to pay.

I hurried to one of the express registers, all of a sudden feeling guilty, like I’d committed some sort of mortal sin by giving my number to a Moore.

Christopher had broken me, shattered my belief and trust. But more important than that, I had Ben to think about. Ben, who had stood by my side. Ben, who even with all his faults, truly cared about me. He was my father’s best friend’s son, and basically we had grown up together. My parents had raised me with the impression that someone like Ben would be the right kind of guy for me, and with my demolished heart, it hadn’t taken him all that much to convince me I belonged with him.

I paid and rushed outside. The blistering Phoenix summer was in full force. Suffocating heat pressed down from above, taking everything hostage, the evening sky heavy with dense clouds building steadily at the edge of the horizon.

My feet pounded on the scorching pavement as I made my way up the aisle to my Ford Escape.

Funny, that suddenly felt like exactly what I needed to do.

Escape.

Take this whole afternoon back.

Leave the classroom of the tiny private school where I’d taken a job as a teacher during their summer program, and instead of coming here gone straight to the small house I shared with Ben—where I was safe and memories of Christopher were buried and hidden in the hope that one day they would finally be forgotten.

I slumped into the driver’s seat, my gaze drawn to the little family that came bustling out of the store.

My heart rattled in my chest.

“Shit,” I cursed, gripping the wheel. “What am I doing?”

The sick part was I knew the answer to that.

TWO

Christopher

Outside the bedroom door, the party raged on. Timothy’s house was splitting at the seams, the way it always was on a Friday night. Music blared and voices lifted above it, echoing through the thin walls. Distorted sounds pounded heavily against my skin, my eyesight hazy in the deep shadows of the darkened room.

I felt completely weightless and somehow still pinned down by the pungent fog clouding my brain.

Every elemental part of me slowly became detached. Floated away. All of my emotions. All of my thoughts. It was like they hovered somewhere overhead, just out of reach. My entire consciousness faded away, right along with my conscience, leaving me with nothing but the physical.

It’s what I craved. Needed. The relief of feeling nothin’ but skin on skin.

Even though some part of me hated it at the same time.

Slouched back on the worn-out couch in the spare bedroom, I lifted the half-drained bottle of Patrón to my lips, idly watching the dull mop of brown hair obstructing the face of the girl who was on her knees, sucking me off.

The only things I could discern were the pleasure of her hot, needy mouth and the burn of tequila as it roared through my system to settle in a scorching pool in my gut.

She looked up from under her thick veil of hair, brown eyes wide as they searched for a connection but instead met with the apathy in mine.

That was the fucking problem. I was on disconnect.

That plug had been pulled a long time ago.

Never would I allow someone to have that kind of control over me.

Not like she had.

Not ever again.

•   •   •

Monday morning, I rolled up in front of Jared and Aly’s house at the ass crack of dawn. I squinted against the bright rays of light burning my eyes as the sun climbed over the horizon, chasing the last of the night from the sky.

I cut the ignition and jumped from the cooled cab of my truck. Heat swallowed me whole. You’d think at five thirty in the morning we’d get a little reprieve. No such luck. Summers in Phoenix were fucking misery.

That didn’t stop the eager smile that tugged at my mouth as I ambled up their walkway.

So what if I had to leave my man card at the door every time I walked into Jared and Aly’s place. Call me a pussy, I didn’t care. My niece had me wrapped around every single one of her tiny fingers.

I rang the doorbell and rushed my hand through my hair, listening for movement inside. A shadow passed behind the draped window before metal slid as the lock was unlatched. My sister grinned at me when she opened the door.

“Christopher, aren’t you looking chipper this beautiful morning,” Aly teased as she lifted a knowing brow, stepping back to let me inside.

So yeah, I’m sure I looked like hell. Both Friday and Saturday nights, I’d been over at Timothy’s house, living it up. Funny how all that living made me feel like death warmed over. Every weekend left me just a little more hollowed out. I was pretty sure I was slowly killing myself, week by week losing just a little more of who I was, carving away more and more of what had been important to me.

Pretty soon there would be nothing left.

But there was no way to get any of it back.

Ancient-history bullshit, anyway.

I shoved all the unwelcome thoughts off, rolled my eyes as I ruffled Aly’s messy hair. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You don’t have a whole lot of room to talk there, Aly Cat. You look like you got about as much sleep this weekend as I did. Livin’ up to your name?”

Dark bags sat heavily under her green eyes, and her near-black hair was all tangled. She was wearing an old stained-up T-shirt that had to be Jared’s, because the girl was swimming in it. Still, my sister was beautiful. Inside and out. No wonder my dumb-ass best friend couldn’t keep his hands off of her.

She groaned a little, but somehow the sound was filled with pure affection. “Ella decided she was hungry every twenty minutes last night. I have no clue how I even got out of bed this morning. I feel like a walking zombie.”

Jared suddenly appeared behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as he tugged her against his chest. He buried his face somewhere in her neck. “Apparently Ella likes her mommy as much as I do.”

I’d just about lost my goddamned mind when I found out these two were hooking up. Not because I didn’t like Jared. He’d been my best friend since I was a little kid. Sure, we’d fought like brothers, messed with each other until one of us was crying, but bottom line, we were thicker than blood. Brothers. We were always the first to have the other’s back.

Until the d