Lost in the Beat

  A Hot Wired Novel

  Lost in the Beat

  Gracen Miller

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement (including infringement without monetary gain) is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Lost in the Beat

  Copyright 2014 by Gracen Miller

  Published by Gracen Miller

  Look for me online at:

  www.gracen-miller.com

  Cover art design by Andrea Kozari and Tina Carreiro

  © Shutterstock.com/BlueSkyImage

  © istockphoto.com/tiler84

  © istockphoto.com/red_frog

  © depositphotos.com/Elise1976

  Edited by Amanda Wimer

  Proofread by Amanda Phillips

  All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the Author. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition: September 2014

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: University of Alabama, Big Al,Julliard, Tweeters, UCLA, Land Rover, Alabama, Auburn, Alabama Crimson Tide, Lamborghini and any and all others that I might’ve missed.

  This book is for my readers…your support and friendship is more important to me than nectar of the gods—aka coffee—and y’all know how much I love my nectar.

  Nely Cab is a real author, and Creatura and Fruit of Misfortune are real books she’s written in the young adult genre. Check them out for something a little different on Greek mythology.

  Thanks to Kathryn Grimes for writing the song Jase sings at the hospital.

  Thanks to Amanda Wimer for coming up with the tagline on the front cover.

  Thanks to Amanda Phillips for proofreading the final copy and catching the last of the mistakes!

  Lost in the Beat

  Blurb

  Rhythm is the heart of every song.

  Jase Collins lives for the stage and the perks of rock stardom. His wild antics and high-profile affairs have earned the sexy drummer the title of Hot Wired’s bad boy. He’s not quite as jaded as his fans think — but just jaded enough not to recognize the best thing that’s ever happened to him until she walks out of his life. And he doesn’t even know her name.

  But without harmony, a man is lost.

  Fallon Morgan has had her life mapped out since high school. She’s earned a full ride scholarship to UCLA with the driving goal of earning her doctorate. Nothing can derail her dreams — except maybe a one-night stand with the infamous Jase Collins. His chilly reception the morning after convinces her to put her biggest mistake in the past and move on without looking back.

  When two hearts begin to beat as one…

  When Fallon’s life takes a dramatic turn, she finds herself with no one else to turn to for help. Jase is obnoxious, demanding, and yet surprisingly tender. Though it chafes her to depend on him, the more time she spends with him changes her perceptions of the bad boy rocker. With each passing day she finds more and more faith in the man behind the public persona. If she can learn to trust her feelings, she might be willing to risk her heart.

  They could find themselves Lost in the Beat!

  Life sucked. One small lapse in judgment would affect Fallon’s future forever.

  What a nightmare situation she found herself in.

  She hadn’t wanted to attend Hot Wired’s damn concert. Had come up with excuse after excuse not to go, all of which were shot down by her sorority sisters. Even having a bad feeling in her gut, she’d caved, gone to the concert, and ended up screwing the drummer.

  That epic one-nighter had gone down in the Sigma Alpha Rho’s record books, and Fallon had become an overnight celebrity in the society. She’d aspired to fly beneath the radar throughout her tenure at the Greek house. Instead she’d become the chick who’d banged a rock star.

  Ugh!

  She even had her own “wall of fame” in the sorority house. Her infamy seemed silly. Screwing the rocker hadn’t gotten her anything, except a night of pleasure and stardom among her sisters. She’d taken it all in stride and prayed a new scandal would crop up to titillate them…until now. They might think fucking Jase Collins came with bragging rights, but to Fallon that “wall of fame” had turned into the “wall of shame”.

  She shook her head and looked at the stick she held with a white-knuckle grip. Yep, that disastrous pink line remained. She hadn’t imagined it. Pink had been her favorite color until this moment.

  Pregnant. At the ripe old age of twenty.

  Her full ride at UCLA wasted with a single bad decision. All she’d worked for eliminated in a brief moment of passion.

  What would her parents say? Of course they’d be disappointed. She was disappointed in herself.

  She saw no viable way out of the dilemma either. Unless the pregnancy test was incorrect. She could hope for a false positive, but doubted she’d be that lucky. And wishing her child didn’t exist felt wrong in so many ways. Before peeing on the stick she’d known it’d confirm her suspicions. And she hadn’t been wrong. Proof right here—she waggled the pregnancy test back and forth—in seven and a half months, a wee creature would depend on her for everything.

  I’ll be a mom. An ill-prepared one, but a mother nonetheless.

  Panic ripped through her and breathing became an Olympic event.

  Abortion was out of the question because it went against her principals. That left her with two options. Keep the child or put it up for adoption.

  “So what’s it say?” Her roomie, Rae, poked her head in the bathroom doorway wearing an expectant expression.

  Expectations for what, Fallon wondered? Rae had abrasively detailed the positives about having a rock star’s baby. The thought of approaching Jase Collins with what should be happy news made her stomach twist with knots.

  Breathing deeply, she pep-talked herself out of upchucking. At least for the moment. With the way her schizophrenic stomach acted lately, two minutes from now could provide a different outcome.

  She rubbed her still flat belly and sent up a quick prayer that the test gave a false positive.

  The morning after her night of wild sex with Hot Wired’s drummer, he’d been cold and distant. He’d taken her virginity and somehow made her enjoy it. He had possessed her, made her feel like he owned her, while he fed her one sensory overload after another. No stranger to orgasms, she’d given herself plenty, but with him they’d been so much more. Freaking epic in a way she couldn’t isolate. Definitely couldn’t explain.

  Sure their sex had probably been nothing out of the ordinary for him. She’d just been another notch on his belt, another no-named girl in another city, spreading her legs for the superstar. Despite feeling like a whore for engaging in a one-nighter with him, it’d been the most profound moment of her life. Bigger than receiving the full ride to UCLA.

  In high school she’d promised herself she wouldn’t get caught up in the silliness of romance. Boyfriends came with heartache and offered zero toward a lifetime of goals. She wanted a good career, a nice life, most of all security, something her parents still struggled to achieve. She’d worked hard through high school and earned a full ride to UCLA. Her third year in pre-med, and she’d thrown it all away for one wild night with Jase Collins–a man she’d known she’d never see again.

  She looked at herself in the mirror and wondered for t
he thousandth time since that evening of lust why she didn’t look different. She felt different. She’d given her virginity to a man who didn’t want her beyond a one-night stand. And I still want him. That was the sad part of this mixed up mess.

  I’m a glutton for punishment. And she couldn’t even name one redeeming quality about Hot Wired’s drummer. Nothing that would normally make her fall for someone as hard as she had him.

  Rae nudged her shoulder, and repeated her question. “What’s it say, Fallon?”

  “Pregnant.” She stared at herself in the mirror. Twenty and pregnant with a stranger’s baby. That sounded like a snazzy reality series title, but that thought only made her more depressed. She could kiss the rest of her college career goodbye. Tears burned her eyes and clogged her sinuses.

  “Oh my God!” Rae squealed and executed a little dance. “I told you that night was going to rock your world!”

  Yeah, which kind of gave her friend a minor role of culpability in this situation. Fallon had been dragged against her wishes to the concert because one of their sorority sisters got sick at the last moment. She’d suggested they hock the ticket on the street corner when they got to the concert and buy beer with it, but noooo!

  Honestly she thought her sisters just wanted to corrupt her a little. She hadn’t even heard of Hot Wired until the tickets were purchased.

  I should’ve stayed home and studied. Not only had she used that as an argument, her sisters had pushed and prodded until she gave in. Peer pressure was a bitch even at her age, and she’d thought she was above the weakness until she yielded.

  Gave up my virginity to a sexy drummer and came home with something of his I can’t wash away with soap and hot water. Flunked my exam the next day too. A twofer. Or is that a threefer since I’m pregnant? Just my mixed bag of bad luck is what it is.

  “You were the only one of us that got lucky that night.” Rae snatched the test stick out of Fallon’s hand and waved it back and forth. “This right here is your money train. Choo-choo.”

  Disliking her sister’s crassness, she turned her back to Rae and puked into the toilet. The all-day sickness had been her first sign she might’ve conceived—that and the lack of her period. She was one of those girls whose periods were very regular.

  “I’m not telling him.” She sounded as pathetic as she felt hugging the porcelain throne. Her belly rolled at the notion of confronting Jase Collins with the unwanted news.

  The drummer hadn’t wanted her the next morning, that’d been obvious in their awkwardness with one another on the elevator ride. The way he’d looked at her had left her feeling like the slut she’d acted like with him. Only after she’d revealed her disinterest had he become interested in her name. What type of man didn’t want to know the name of the girl he’d slept with?

  Better question…what type of woman lets a man fuck her without introducing herself first?

  Propping her elbows on the toilet seat, she groaned as she crammed her fingers in her hair, while the memories of the morning after flooded her with the harsh reality of her predicament. She was on her own, and she had no one but herself to blame.

  Disoriented by waking up in a strange bed in a strange hotel, Fallon had peered about. Only when she caught a whiff of the drummer’s cologne did the evening’s events slam into her head. Shocked by her behavior and relieved Jase wasn’t in bed with her when she woke, she scrambled off the bed and dressed as fast as she could. She checked her cell. Eleven text messages and three missed calls, all from one of the four other sorority sisters with her.

  She checked her watch. Only an hour to make it to the hotel before they were scheduled to hit the road back to the university. She tapped the text from Rae and read through the eight messages:

  U lucky slut!

  Blow him for me 2. She’d pretended she didn’t read that one.

  Text me back when ur no longer screaming his name.

  She might not’ve screamed, but he had definitely made her moan louder than she’d ever made herself moan.

  U still grinding on his pole?

  That was just tacky, crass, and so unladylike Fallon had dismissed it outright.

  Take pictures. I want to see the size of his dick.

  Fuck no! Was Rae crazy? She’d be slapped with a lawsuit so fast her grandchildren would still be paying the compensation long after she was dead.

  Still going @ it like bunnies? Im sooooooo fucking jealous. Lucky bitch!

  Dont 4get 2 take pictures! A vid of him n action wouldnt hurt my feelings. ;-)

  Getting nervous. It’s 8a.m. ur not back & not answering texts or calls. CALL ME!

  Noticing the time as she fired back a message—headed back now—she tossed her cell in her purse and fast-walked across the room. As she stepped out the door, Jase breezed past her without so much as a greeting.

  That hurt. She tried not to let his brush off sting, but failed. Keeping her eyes downcast, she worked her fingers through the long length of her red hair. The untidiness of her strands reminded her how many times he’d shoved his fingers through the length.

  He flicked her a quick glance as he punched the down button for the elevator.

  Fallon dug a compact mirror out of her purse and did her best to remove the smudged makeup with her fingertips. “You going down?” She asked, snapping the mirror closed with a sharp click.

  “Yep.”

  He had gone down on her last night too and best she could tell, the man was good at eating pussy.

  Like strangers they stood side-by-side staring at the elevator doors. Awkward. He’d been inside her twice. Shouldn’t they be more familiar than this? Shouldn’t he be savvier the morning after than he was right at this moment? At least she’d never have to endure this discomfort again because he’d never see her after today.

  God, please let me get through this embarrassment, and I swear I’ll never have another one-nighter ever again.

  The doors slid open, and she entered. He hesitated before stepping into the elevator with her. It was such a minor hesitation she’d have missed it had she not been paying attention. His reluctance had a grave impact on her.

  She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat, but the stinging in her sinuses grew worse. God it hurt knowing he didn’t want to be near her this morning. Good for a fucking, but apparently not politeness.

  “Sorry.” The insecurity in her voice irritated her. She’d avoided dating all through high school and then college, so she wasn’t adept at talking to the opposite sex.

  “For?”

  “I don’t know.” She finger-combed her hair. Without a brush, she feared there was no hope in making her appear anything but well-fucked. “I shouldn’t have done this.”

  “You didn’t enjoy yourself?”

  She tossed a nervous glance at him before she lowered her head and dug into her purse. Heat hit her cheeks. No point in lying about it. “You know I did.”

  She’d been bashful at first, but with the way he kissed, she’d loosened up pretty quickly. When she came the first time with him pumping into her, he’d watched her as if fascinated by her pleasure. He’d worked to get her off the second time, using his thumb against her clit. She’d moaned and arched beneath him, trembling as he thrust the last few times inside her before he spilled his seed.

  “I like that you enjoyed yourself. Most don’t.”

  With groupies it was a using relationship. She got that. They provided him physical relief, and they gained bragging rights. She guessed it was a conquest thing for most women, she didn’t know because she wasn’t feeling it at the moment. And she sure as hell held no plans of bragging about being with him. What a sad, unfulfilling life he must live.

  She pitied him. Sadness made her chest ache. She almost expressed her sympathy for his lifestyle, but changed her mind at the last second and pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail instead.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Why?” Names hadn’t mattered when he’d been fucking her, s
o what’d he care now? He obviously hadn’t wanted to be near her this morning, so his need to know her name wasn’t necessary.

  “You know mine.”

  “Do you normally ask the names of your one-night-stands?”

  He shrugged.

  She got the feeling that was a no.

  Surprisingly, he said, “Sometimes.”

  “My name doesn’t matter. After today you won’t ever see me again.”

  His brow rippled with a frown, and he grunted while contemplating his feet. “Why the secrecy surrounding your name?”

  She tensed. Why his sudden interest?

  “I—I don’t do this sort of stuff, Mr. Collins.”

  “Jase.” An amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It benefited society that his smile couldn’t be bottled and sold as a roofie, because it was as effective as a date-rape drug. “I was inside you for Christ’s sake. My name is Jase.”

  She flinched as if he had struck her. Regretting their dalliance more than she cared to admit, she spared him the total truth of her remorse.

  “One-night-stands aren’t my style.” She wet her lips and became enamored of the flashing red floor numbers. “I’d prefer to wallow in my guilt with a little discretion.”

  “You were a virgin.”

  A hiss whistled through her teeth at her sharp intake of breath. She hugged herself mentally and refused to favor him with her attention. Why’d he have to recall that fact at this moment?

  “Do you know how many virgins come to my bed?” After a heartbeat he answered his own question. “You’re the first.”

  She shuffled her feet. “How’d you know?”

  He grinned. Instead of answering her question, he asked, “What’s your name?”

  “None of your business,” she shot back as the elevators doors opened and she bolted.