Reckless (Reckless #1)

Reckless - Bonus Chapter Three

Bonus Chapter Three

Nash - The First Kiss

I’m an idiot for racing that drunk a**hole tonight; for letting him ram into the side of my car.

The collision caused my car to swerve into a telephone pole. Now, the hood of my car was totaled and my lights crushed. The glass of the windows also shattered and cut up my face.

The a**hole owed me a new car.

How and why I ended up at Addy’s was beyond me. Last thing I remember was dragging myself through the streets, then the next thing I realized, I was sitting on her toilet seat while she rubbed some sort of burning sh*t on my face.

I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to get those eyes out of my head. She’s looking at me with those sensuous green eyes, lightly biting her lip as she wipes away the mess from my face. Not being able to take her intense stare anymore, I walk out of the bathroom, throwing my shirt to the floor.

I can feel her stare burning into my back as I walk to her couch. When I sit down, I look at her, seeing a hint of a blush mar her cheeks as she looks down. Wanting her to join me, I nod my head to the other side of the couch.

She sits down, leaving distance between us. It’s cute that she thinks I’m going to attack her, even though I desperately have the need to. I don’t know why, but I tell her what happened; I go through the whole story. Towards the end, she looks dazed, an intense look on her face.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

Addy laughs, that beautiful, melodic laugh, “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?

Closing my eyes, I replay that laugh that I’ve found so addicting, which makes a laugh escape my mouth. We sit there, laughing like two estranged people, until silence swallows us.

She breaks the silence with one word that I’ve come to loathe through the years, “Why?”

My jaw tightens and I stare straight ahead, “What?”

“Why do you race?”

Memories of my past come to mind. I’ve never told anyone about my past - only Kane. No way am I letting those demons out tonight.

I scratch the back of my neck, “I’ve done it for a long time… It’s sort of like a… getaway.”

Yeah, a getaway from my abusive a**hole of a father, I think to myself.

Silence erupts again, but I feel her gaze on me. I turn to look at her. She’s looking at my side - at my tattoo. All girls I’ve ever been with have seen my tattoo, looking at it with wide eyes, claiming that it’s the ‘hottest thing for a guy to have a tattoo.’ Her eyes are different, though - scrunched, as if she’s trying to decode what it says. It’s sexy, the way she’s always curious about things.

I grin and clear my throat, causing her wide eyes to connect with mine.

“Is that a tattoo?” she asks, her voice coming out higher, sexier.

I shrug, “No. I was born with it.”

Turning to look at her, I notice she’s staring at me with confusion, her mouth slightly parted.

“Kidding. Of course it’s a tattoo,” I say, lightly laughing at her face.

A slight pout mars her face, “Why didn’t you just say it was to begin with?”