Wild (The Wild Book 1)

WILD MICALEA SMELTZER Wild © Copyright 2018 Micalea Smeltzer Wild Collision Copyright 2022, revised edition ‘Wild’ All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Cover Design: Emily Wittig Developmental Editing: Melanie Yu; Made Me Blush Books Guy Cover: Photography by Michelle Lancaster CONTENTS Prologue 1. Mia 2. Hollis 3. Mia 4. Hollis 5. Mia 6. Hollis 7. Mia 8. Hollis 9. Mia 10. Hollis 11. Mia 12. Hollis 13. Mia 14. Hollis 15. Mia 16. Hollis 17. Mia 18. Hollis 19. Mia 20. Hollis 21. Mia 22. Hollis 23. Mia 24. Hollis 25. Mia 26. Hollis 27. Mia 28. Hollis 29. Mia 30. Hollis 31. Mia 32. Hollis 33. Mia 34. Hollis 35. Mia Epilogue Sneak Peek of Rising Also by Micalea Smeltzer Janiece, this book is for you because without what you’ve done for me it wouldn’t be here. You saved my life. You’re my hero. Forever and always. PROLOGUE Hollis The pounding pulse of the club music vibrates through my entire body. It doesn’t matter what country or city you’re in, all these places are the same. Too loud music, overflowing drinks, and sweaty bodies gyrating together. The sexy brunette who’s latched onto me for the night grinds her ass against my dick. “Someone’s getting laid tonight,” Cannon, one of my best friends and the bass player in our band, calls out to me. I smirk back at him even as he looks on in disapproval. Last night. Tonight. Tomorrow night. They’re all the same, only different faces—and fuck, most of the time I don’t even remember them. The girl turns, wrapping her arms around my neck and pushing her rock hard fake breasts into my chest. I suppress a groan. She licks her plump overly filled lips, looking at me through hooded eyes. “My place or yours?” she purrs. “Neither,” a new voice growls. I turn, stumbling in my drunken state. “Oh shit,” I mutter. My bandmates exchange similar sentiments. “I drove all the way to D.C. for your sorry asses. Why am I not surprised you’re at a place like this?” The middle-aged man shakes his head, clearly disappointed with us. “Hayes, man,” I plead, my vision slightly blurred. “It’s only some harmless fun.” “Yeah, harmless fun when you’re supposed to start recording your first studio album tomorrow. You might’ve had a few successful singles but don’t think for a minute if you fuck up people won’t move on to the next band.” I swallow thickly at his threat. Joshua Hayes is the guitarist for one of the biggest bands in the world and we’re damn lucky he wants us to be his first producing job. “I’m sorry.” He looks like my words mean nothing. I guess they don’t—they’re some of my favorite and I rarely mean them, so why would now be any different. “We thought one more night of fun before we buckled down to record our album would be okay,” Fox, another friend, and the guitarist, calls out. He’s the jokester out of all of us—the rest of us are far too broody and serious, at least according to the media. They have no idea who we really are. We’ve only just started to have a taste of fame and it’s already obvious that the media will paint you however they want. I prefer to think of myself as introspective and a deep thinker. Unless you put a hot chick in front of me—then all I think about is ass, ass, and more ass. Maybe the media isn’t too off base on me then. “Yeah, well it’s not okay. At least not for me. I want to know you’re serious—because if you aren’t then I’m not wasting my time. What you’re doing here … this does nothing to alleviate my worries.” Harsh. “How’d you find us anyway?” Cannon asks, having ditched the girl he was dancing with and joined us. He crosses his muscled arms over his chest. I belatedly realize the girl I was with has left, blending into the crowd and lost from my sight. I pout like a petulant child that’s lost a toy. Ugh, I’ve definitely had too much to drink. Hayes tosses us a look like a pissed off dad who found his kid sneaking out the bedroom window. “Rush,” is all he says. The three of us turn and as one we cringe when we spot our drummer on top of the bar, with a bottle of whiskey, live on fucking TikTok. TikTok, the reason our band went viral in the first place, and has this chance to work with Joshua Hayes. “Get your asses outside and into my car. It’s the Range Rover. I’ll get Rush.” He’s already pushing through the crowd, away from us toward the bar. “I thought he was our producer, not a fucking babysitter,” I mutter. “He is part of one of the most successful bands ever, maybe we should listen to him.” Cannon shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders shrugging up to his ears. I swear I hear a girl moan when she gets a look at his neck tat. I have a bigger cock. And isn’t that what’s most important? “Fine, whatever.” I weave my way through the crowd to the exit, Cannon and Fox on my heels. I might be drunk, but I know better than to refuse Hayes’s request to leave the club. “He’s going to be unbearable tomorrow,” Cannon sighs, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He smacks the new box against his hand and pulls one out, sticking it between his lips but not lighting it. “Why?” Fox