by Teagan Kade
I face him. “Dom?”
He pushes gravel back and forth with his shoe, sliding his hands deep into his suit pockets and leaning against the car. “I was behind the power outage.”
I can’t believe it. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack, as your father used to say. I snuck backstage and pulled the plug—literally. You wouldn’t believe how easy it was.”
“Her playback?”
He puts his hands out. “Guilty as charged.”
I’m blown away. “You wily fucking fox. You knew Alice was singing playback?”
He taps his nose. “Us agents share more than overpriced lunches, you know. Rick doesn’t own everyone in this town.”
I shake my head. “Damn. I guess I owe you a thank you.”
He shrugs. “A bottle of Johnnie Blue will do.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself electrocuted.”
He smiles. “What is it they say? Party like a rock star, play like an All Star, live like a movie star—”
“And fuck like a porn star,” I finish.
We both laugh at that.
“Come on,” he says, opening the passenger-side door for me. “Get in before I decide to strand your silly ass here with the seagulls.”
EPILOGUE
SELENA
ONE YEAR LATER
He shines on stage. He always has—Mathew Barton, my husband, the love of my life. But instead of playing to a handful of people at the Bellhopper, he’s playing to thousands, and they can’t get enough. They chant his name over and over as the lights come up and he waves to the crowd.
And then they’re chanting my name.
Mat and I stand side by side waving and smiling. The fact Mat is married hasn’t stopped his admirers showing up. If anything it’s made them even more rabid. A lipstick red thong lands on my toe. I subtly kick it off stage and reach down for a teddy bear instead, holding it aloft.
Fifty states in one year was always going to be a feat, but Mat wanted to make sure we hit every single one, get the full ‘American experience’, as his father used to call it. Mason Barton did it, so naturally Mat had to as well. Like father, like son.
It’s exhausting, but performing with Mat on stage is electric. Every night is like the first, the two of us coming together and stepping out of ourselves if only for a couple of hours. We’re completely free on stage, one. The crowds have been growing bigger and bigger as we work our way up the west coast. We expected a big crowd in LA, but looking at the sea of people before us, it’s way beyond our expectations.
Mat unslings Sally and hands her to his guitar tech. He leans forward to the mic. “Thank you, City of Angels. It’s great to be home, and even more so with this beautiful woman by my side, a woman I’m proud to call my wife.”
A roar goes up. He does this every time we perform, yet I still blush like a schoolgirl.
“Thank you and good night!” shouts Mat.
We bow together and the pyrotechnics explode into the sky, the roar raging on as the lights are cut and we make our way off stage.
Dom is waiting in the wings as always. “What can I say, kids? Best show yet.”
Mat gives him a high five, hand on my back. “Fuck yeah it was. Did you see that crowd?”
Dom nods. He’s been instrumental getting the word out about us. “You can expect even bigger when we hit Madison Square Garden in a couple of weeks.”
I place my hand on Mat’s chest. “I’m going to head back to the trailer, take a shower.”
His hand moves to my ass and gives it a light squeeze. “I’ll see you soon.”
On the way, staff and stage hands stop to congratulate me, but all I really want after a show like that is Mat in my arms. We always have the best sex post-show. It’s become something of a habit. Between those late-night sessions and being on stage, I don’t know how it is I can stand at all during the day.
We picked up this sleeper bus from a failed presidential campaign and had it completely redone when the money started rolling in. It’s no White House, but it’s home enough.
I let the water rush through my hands and hair, waiting until another body presses up behind me, a rigid member at the ready. I reach around and grasp it, rocking it slowly between my ass cheeks the way I know drives Mat absolutely wild.
“So,” he says, breath hot against the shell of my ear. “What are we going to do once we’re off the road?”
I turn around and let him lift my leg, placing him against my wetness. “I’ve got a few ideas.”
I let myself sink down on him, nestling my face into the crook of his neck and breathing deep as he fills me. There are no ‘rock your world’ puns or heart-shaped beds—just us, two crazy kids brought together by the greatest matchmaker in the world.
Music.
*
The following morning we’ve got some free time up our sleeves. We decide to head to Beverly Hills and check in on Mat’s Mom.
Driving through the gates, I’m pleased to see the White House is back to its opulent best. The gardens are trim and neat, a steady brigade of staff tending to the grounds. Even the house itself, blinding in the morning sun, seems to sparkle a little more than usual. I play with the wedding ring around my finger. It’s not the only thing.
Mat’s mother is out of the house before we even step from the car, Elvis nipping at her heels. She embraces us both, calling us by name. The doctors say her improvement has been near miraculous over the last few months. Sure, she has her off days, as we all do, but compared to the woman we visited at Palm Springs, it’s night and day.
She holds me at arm’s length, admiring the breezy summer dress I’ve selected. “You’re looking well, Selena.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Barton.”
“Jan,” she laughs. “When are you going to stop calling me Mrs. Barton?”
I reach down to scratch Elvis behind the ear, his tail whipping furiously with excitement.
I smile back. “Old habits die hard, sorry.”
“Come inside.” She takes us both arm-in-arm and leads us to the back terrace looking over the pool, now full and cerulean.
One of the staffers pauses by the table, arms behind his back. “Can I offer anyone refreshments?”
“I’ll take a gin and tonic, Marcel,” says Mrs. Barton. “Easy on the gin.”
“Dad’s favorite,” notes Mat.
Mrs. Barton laughs, throwing her head back. “Anything with alcohol was your father’s favorite, Mat, but yes, he was partial to a G&T every now and then.”
She turns her attention to me. “And for you, Selena? Champagne to celebrate your success?”
“No, thanks. Water’s fine for me.”
Mrs. Barton nods. “Sure, sure. You must be pooped from all this touring.”
If only you knew…
“I hear the crowds have been incredible,” Mrs. Barton continues.
Mat leans forward in his chair, placing his hands together. “They have. Dad would be proud.”
“I’m sure he would,” Mrs. Barton replies. I can’t see her eyes given the sunglasses she’s wearing, but her face pulls together a little more than normal. She’s proud, but there’s sadness there, sadness that Mason never got to see his son on stage, following in his footsteps creating his own legacy, our legacy.
“So,” she says, pulling herself together. “What’s news from the road?”
Mat puffs his cheeks out. “Nothing to report, really.”
“Actually,” I cut in, my hand shifting to my stomach. “I have news.”
Both Bartons turn to face me. I see so much likeness between them. Mat really did get the best of both parents.
Mat’s got the most adorable expression on his face, like a quizzical, jumbo-sized version of Elvis. “Sel?”
I look down at my belly. How he hasn’t noticed yet is beyond me.
I turn my eyes to the man I’ve chosen to share my life with, my soulmate and entire world. I know the lengths he will go to protect me
, to protect us. I know the man he is and the man he wants to become, and I couldn’t possibly wish for more… At least, that’s what I thought.
“Baby?” he questions again.
Bingo.
I’ve never been so happy. I know what’s coming is unexpected, but we’ll work it together, as always. “Ready for another band member?”
He looks to Mrs. Barton and for a moment I think it’s gone over his head completely, but then the smile grows on his face, growing larger and larger until I know for sure it’s settling in. “You’re pregnant?”
I nod, a tear slipping down my cheek. “Looks like our duo is about to become a trio.”
He stands up. “Holy shit. I’m going to be a dad!”
I stand up and we embrace, the little life between us already surrounded by love.
Mrs. Barton stands and joins in, the three of us laughing, literally jumping up and down with joy.
Mat stands back. “What are we going to call him?”
“’Him?” Mrs. Barton laughs. “What makes you so sure it’s a boy?”
Mat comes forward and holds my belly gently in his hands. “Call it parental intuition.”
“I was thinking Mason for a boy,” I announce.
I can see the way Mrs. Barton softens at this, at the thought of her husband’s memory living on, born again. “And if it’s a girl?” she queries.
I smile deeper.
“Hope.”
###
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About Teagan Kade:
Teagan Kade thinks talking about yourself in the third person is silly, just like her collection of snow globes and rare manga. When she’s not being silly, she’s hanging out with her own Brock and two children in the south of Australia, dreaming of new characters and torturous ways they can get themselves into trouble. Teagan loves hearing from her readers, all of whom are as dear to her heart as salted caramel cookies. Shoot her an email at: [email protected]. She doesn’t bite.
Read on for Wrecked: A Bad Boy Outlaw Romance!
Also by Teagan Kade:
Drilled: A Bad Boy Sports Romance
He’s the gridiron god with magic hands… And fingers, and mouth, and tongue.
Chance ‘Gunner’ Adams –- quarterback, superstar womanizer, and panty slayer extraordinaire. He wants me. He wants me bad, but I’m not about to become another notch on his girthy bedpost. I came to Los Angeles to get away from my past, to start fresh. I don’t need trouble, especially the muscly, abs-of-marble kind.
The problem? As team masseuse it’s my job to get hands on with this as*hole. I’ll be working on every hard, intimate area of his body. But if he thinks he can treat me like any other girl who stirs his pants, he’s wrong. After all, I’m a professional… right?
We both want a happy ending, but sooner or later my past will catch up with me, and the Mob’s not big on mercy. I need more than a smart mouth. I need a savior -- one whose talent for mayhem doesn’t end when the fourth quarter’s over. For once in my life, I need someone who knows how to play dirty.
Striker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance
She’s the perfect score. I’m a dirty player. It’s complicated.
JENSEN
Scarlet's always been a stunner. There was a time we could have been together, but then came the soccer, the fans, the fame... I lost her to my twin brother, Josh.
But Josh is a cheating bastard. I can't stand by and watch Scarlet suffer, not when she should’ve been mine all along.
SCARLET
I've been dating Josh for years. I've tried to steer clear of his twin brother, Jensen, but I’ve always felt a pull towards him, a pull I have to resist.
But when Josh betrays me, Jensen’s arms are suddenly wide open. It would be so easy…
My heart’s torn—I just don’t know in which direction.
Dirty Brawler: A Bad Boy Sports Romance
I fight hard, but I play harder…
SHAUN
I’m in it to win it—always. You don’t take home Olympic gold coming second, but lately it’s been scandal after scandal.
That’s why I called in a PR lifeline. I didn’t expect it to be a leggy brunette with a mouth to match…
She’s out of my league, but that’s sure as hell not going to stop me trying.
Tori Ellis might have her defenses up, but I’m going to fight tooth and nail until she’s mine.
TORI
I’m a professional. I don’t mix business and pleasure.
But when bad boy boxer Shaun Nichols enlists my services, resisting him becomes a full-time job.
He’s got an image problem and a temper to match, a list of problems a mile long.
It should be easy keeping him at a distance, so why do I feel like I’m on the ropes?
Slammed: A Bad Boy Sports Romance
My purity ring was perfectly fine until Nate ‘King’ Compton showed up.
The star recruit of the Panthers, inked up and out of control—He’s the campus troublemaker I know I should avoid, but I can’t. Problem is, I’ve been given the ‘privilege’ of improving his GPA… provided I can find a brain in all that muscle.
I don’t do bad boys. I do order and control, and he’s chaos. He’s the antithesis of my perfect princess world in every way. Still, there’s something deeper under those Caribbean eyes and cut body, a darkness we both share. I’m going to get to the bottom of it if it kills me, and given the way my heart hammers out of my chest every time he’s around, it just might.
Game on.
Throttle: A Bad Boy Sports Romance
I only know one position—on top.
ANDY
I do whatever it takes to win. That’s why I’m a Formula One champion. And I’m going for the prize again this year, no matter what my team says. But I’ll play their game—so long as it benefits me.
Now there’s a beautiful woman traveling with me to make sure I wear the team sponsor’s outfits and smile at all the right moments. I’m going to make Sara smile, all right. But not about what I’m wearing.
In fact, clothes won’t be involved at all.
SARA
Working PR for a fashion house and traveling the world? I’m not complaining. Even if it means putting up with a womanizer like Andy.
Yes, he’s sexy as hell. But I’m nothing to him—just another score, someone to warm his sheets for a night and then be forgotten. He’s going to learn I’m not that easy.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
Royally Wrong: A British Bad Boy Romance
Fifth in line to the throne. Off the rails. Drop dead-freakin’-gorgeous.
I should never have taken this assignment. Prince Panty-Dropper Spencer and his ‘Big Ben’ are too far gone. Even my journalistic wonders aren’t enough to pull him from the public blacklist. He’s a playboy, an arrogant, cocky as*hole in the extreme and the kind of overt man candy that goes against every one of my golden rules.
But I want him all the same, crave his cursed touch. I won’t have a job to go back to if I leave empty-handed, which means we’re going to have to get real close, access all areas. He’s a prick, yes, but I can’t stop thinking about his hard muscles, his slack smile, the complete confidence he has in himself. He might be Britain’s biggest player, but if he wants me, he’s damn well going to have to work for it.
London’s calling alright. Question is, can I handle what’s on the line?
A Bad Boy Outlaw Romance
Teagan Kade
* * * * *
Published by Teagan Kade
Edited by Sennah Tate
Copyright © 2016 by Teagan Kade<
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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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DEDICATION
To all the surfer boys in my life. Thanks for showing me the green room.
CHAPTER ONE
LUX
“Ever been down-under?”
I’ve heard better pick-up lines.
The plane dips. I’m gripping the sides of my seat so hard my knuckles are paper white. I flinch when a peanut packet pops behind me.
I’m not a great flyer. I much prefer to be on the ground, in the water. Planes are so… unstable. Quite a statement from someone whose life has been plunged into instability, I know.
“Australia,” the man beside me continues, “you been before?”.
This guy must be forty-plus wearing an Akubra that would make Crocodile Dundee proud. If there was an Aussie cliché convention, he’d be front and center.