Hard & Fast (Rules to Break #1) (5 page)

His jaw clenches as he holds my hips and runs his hands down the outside of my skirt. My high heels make me almost the same height as him. All of my muscles tense as he reaches the hem of my skirt and his hands run back up my thighs. I spread my legs a little further apart and hear him suck in a breath as he reaches the silky material of my panties. I know they’re wet, my whole body is screaming for him to touch me. I realize I’ve been on edge with it ever since we were interrupted in the trailer.

But he takes his time, still staring straight at me in the mirror as his fingers push under the lace edges and then wait, wait, wait, until I gasp with wanting. When I make the noise, his whole body tightens, pushing me forward so I grasp the sink. I want to beg but all that comes out is a breathless sound.

“You’re going to have to tell me,” he says in my ear.

What? The look on my face must ask the question for me.

“Well Rose, you did make me say I’d never do anything like this again. Have you changed your mind?” His fingers hover over my skin and it’s unbearable.

“I changed my mind,” I breathe. If he doesn’t touch me, I’m going to lose it.

His body is pressed into mine, words low in my ear. “I want to be really clear, though, Rose.”

Dammit, he’s got a sexy half-smile on his face. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

“Please,” I gasp.

He trails his other hand lightly over my shoulder and down my arm. “Please what? I agreed not to touch you, didn’t I? I don’t want either of us to do anything you think is inappropriate.”

Fuck inappropriate. “I want you to touch me. Now.”

I’m on fire with it. I drop my hand to his, to make him touch me, but before I can, his fingers move, one slipping forward at the same time that two others push right into me, and
fuck
is all I can think.

My head falls forward, eyes tightly closed as heat builds.

“No,” he says, tilting my chin back up with his other hand. “Look at me.”

I open my eyes, little gasping sounds coming out of me as his fingers move. Sweat breaks out between my shoulder blades. Slowly, he starts to unpin my hair, one long, red wave at a time and his other hand between my legs keeps up its rhythm until I’m shaking and I can barely stand.

“Please,’ I beg.

The word lights his green eyes with fire. He takes his hands away, grasping my hips and pulling them back against him. I cry out at the loss and my voice is ragged.

“Tell me,” he demands. “Tell me what you want.”

“You inside me now,” I say. There’s nothing I will ever need more.

He fists my hair, kissing my neck hot and rough, never taking his eyes off mine.

I push back against him and he moans against my skin.

“I thought I could wait. But I can’t wait. I can’t,” he says, voice low and unsteady.

His cock is solid against my ass. “Do it,” I say. “Fuck me.”

When I say that, his look is wild and he shoves my dress up, pushing my legs apart as he tears at his jeans. It takes moments, but I’m frantic with waiting and the second he pushes against my entrance I’m wild too, moving back onto him as he thrusts forward.

The shock of him filling me almost tips me over the edge. I moan and Cole digs his finger into my hips pushing into me again and again. He’s so hard. I want to tell him, but there’s nothing but stars bursting inside me. I come so suddenly and all at once that I’m shaking all over, but Cole holds me up, still plunging into me until everything starts tightening again and I can scarcely remember my name.

“I’m going to come again,” I say, voice barely more than whisper.

“Yes, you are,” he says and it spins me out again, pulsing over and over and this time he comes with me, hard and wild and fast, his body tensing and tensing until I lose my mind and finally he breaks eye contact, leaning over me and dragging a hand down my back as I shudder.

He says nothing, just turns me around and covers my mouth with a kiss that makes any chance I had of regaining rational thought impossible, then he pulls away from me and walks away, straightening his clothes. The lock on the door clicks open and he’s gone.

I try to steady my breathing, holding on to the unit in front of me because my legs are threatening to buckle. It takes a full minute before I remember the door’s unlocked now and someone else could come in.

I fix my dress, but leave my hair down. I need a drink. Right now. As I slip through the door, I feel like everyone in the club can see all over my face what we just did. My cheeks are pink and my eyes are hectic, but no one gives me a second glance. I waylay a waiter and drink another glass of champagne. A guy comes to talk to me, and I know if Kate were here she’d be telling me how hot he is, but I can barely focus on him. Every sense is filled up with Cole, and before I know it, he’s at my elbow telling me we’re leaving
.
I’m conscious of him next to me – the way he smells, the way his shirt fits over the breadth of his shoulders—all the way back to the entrance we came in by, but neither of us speak.

When he opens the door, he steps aside for me to pass and flashes a smile at me. I smile back, walking out into the heat of the street on legs that are still unsteady. The door closes and then something flashes in my face. I throw a hand up automatically, blinking away the light, and realize there are photographers clicking away, cameras on both sides of me. 

“Cole!”

“Cole Dean! Over here!” 

Cole stiffens at my side. The car is waiting for us, but one of the paparazzi holds a camera out right in Cole’s face. His jaw is tight, brows lowered, and when I look down, his fist is clenched. He’s instantly all energy and barely concealed aggression.

“Come on, Cole. Just one,” says the guy.

Cole rounds on him, shoving the photographer back with his shoulder. The guy’s face changes and he holds his hands up, backing off. Cole steps forward, every muscle tensed, but they’re all backing off now like he’s some kind of dangerous animal. Which is exactly what he looks like.

“Miss Weatherston.” The driver’s holding the door for me, so I get in fast, totally thrown by how angry Cole is. I mean, sure, it must get annoying, but this seems out of proportion.

He gets into the car, slamming the door. “Drive,” he says curtly, then throws himself back in the seat.

After the club has disappeared in the rear view, I shift in my seat. It feels like I should say something. “Are you alright?” I ask.

He waves his hand, still staring out of the window. I move a little closer. Clearly he’s not alright. I have to admit, it kind of shocked me how angry he got and how fast, but there’s clearly something I don’t know.

“What just happened?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he says.

Any idiot could see this isn’t nothing.

We sit for a few tense moments. God, he’s so sexy even when he’s like this. I lean in without any thought at all and run my hand up his thigh and into his lap. His mouth parts in surprise but that devil’s look comes into his eyes and that’s all I need. I push my body up close to his, undoing one button on his jeans at a time.

His hand is spread on my lower back, holding me tight to him as I run my palm down his cock. When I squeeze gently, wrapping my fingers around him, he moans. I glance at the driver’s partition, but the glass is closed.

Cole grips me harder, muscles bunching under my body. I’m half draped on him and the ache between my legs is back. I stroke up and down, little movements that make him breathe fast. His hand comes up into my hair as he crushes me into a rough kiss that feels so good, I moan.

“You’re so hard. Always so hard.” 

“And you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” he whispers against my throat.

I am. I want his hands and his cock and his tongue on me. I slide my fingers down the length of him until he hisses. I want him in my mouth, but he takes my face between his hands and grazes my lips with his, teasing me with little kisses until I’m matching my movements with his. I’m desperate for him to touch me too. And then he kisses me so deep and hard that I lose myself. I don’t care about anything but Cole getting hotter and harder in my hand until he’s gasping with every move I make. When he comes his cock pulses again and again in my hand and he crushes me against him. I find myself biting his lip.

The driver clears his throat.

“Mr. Dean. You’re home, sir.”

And all at once, the spell is broken. Everything I promised myself I’d never do, I’ve done tonight. I’ve broken all my rules again.

Chapter Five

The waiting room is packed, every seat taken by girls who look like they stumbled over from a runway. Some of them read over their scripts while others hold up handheld mirrors to apply a fresh coat of lipstick or pick at their glossy hair. I shift uncomfortably in my flowered sundress and remind myself that the role didn’t call for supermodel good looks.

When Kate brought this casting call to my attention, I actually screamed with excitement. The advertisement was for an upcoming miniseries on Fox that centered on a group of hardware store employees who find themselves in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. The role I’m trying out for is Jessie, a freckled good-girl who finds herself having to be very bad if she’s going to survive. The role was practically written for me.

I block out the chatter of girls—and the memory of Cole pressing me into the sink at the club—and concentrate on my lines. But my mind keeps skipping back to Cole. To the way he made me beg for him. Heat blooms between my legs.

Dammit, Rose. Concentrate.  

My phone buzzes in my pocket. When I pull it out, Cole’s name flashes across the screen. What could he possibly want on my morning off? Isn’t it enough that he’s destroying my concentration? Annoyed, I silence the call and slip the phone back in my pocket. Two seconds later, it rings again. I turn the ringer off.

“Rose Weatherston?”

I practically jump out of my seat. A woman brandishing a clipboard stands at the end of the hall. It’s finally my turn. My heart threatens to leap out of my chest as I flatten the creases out of my dress and follow her inside a room.

Four people and a huge camera sit along a table that faces a desk. They all wear matching earpieces and bored expressions. 

“Good morning,” a woman says, glancing at her paper. “You’re Rose Weatherston?”

I nod eagerly and open my mouth to speak, but she interrupts me.

“And you’re trying out for the role of Jessie?”

“Yes. I worked at my parent’s hardware store for almost ten years so I’m very excited to try out for this role.”

No one responds. Off to a great start.

“Go ahead and begin on the highlighted section of page 18 whenever you’re ready.”

I nod and take my spot behind the desk. My hands are cold and clammy and I can barely hear myself think with all the blood rushing in my ears, but I blow out a slow breath and tune everything out—the camera, the people watching me, Cole’s fingers slipping inside my panties—and just focus on the role. Immerse myself in it. Become Jessie.

When I finish my lines, a buzzy feeling washes over me. I look up. They’re smiling. All four of them are smiling. I nailed it.

“Great,” the woman says. “We’ll be contacting the short list tonight. If you don’t hear back, you haven’t gotten in.”

I nod, thank them, and exit the room. When I clear the hallway of hopefuls, I can’t hold it in any longer. I squeal. A business-suit clad man just exiting the elevator raises an eyebrow at me, and I twirl him around in a jig until he’s smiling back.

This is it—this is the role I’m going to get.

I pull out my phone to call Kate when I see that the home screen is filled with missed calls and texts from Cole. Just as I’m staring at the screen, it comes to life again. I finally answer it.

“Yes?”

“Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for half an hour.”

“You gave me the morning off,” I remind him.

“Something came up.”

“I’m sorry. I was busy.” The doors slide open, and I float out to the parking lot.

“It was important, Rose.”

“I said I was sorry. I was
busy
Cole.

“Doing what? Why do you sound so chipper?”

I shrug into the phone and he chooses to interpret my silence.

“Right. Keeping your private life separate from your work life is
very important
to you.”

I freeze in the parking lot. My mouth drops open in shock and I struggle to find words. There’s a pause where neither of us speaks.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

I snap my mouth shut. I refuse to let Cole ruin my good mood. “What is it you wanted me to do?”

“I needed a ride.”

“What?” I laugh.

“The Porsche wouldn’t start this morning and I had a GQ shoot at ten.”

“And you don’t have, like, ten backup cars?” I already knew that he didn’t. And actually, I thought it was great that he didn’t buy a zillion cars just because he could.

“I have one back up car, and you’re driving it,” he says.

“Oh,” I answer sheepishly, then remind myself that he
did
give me the morning off. “Well did you call a cab?”

It’s his turn to laugh. “No, I called a car service. By myself.”

Wow
! I think. But what I say is, “Well I’m available now. What can I do to help?”

“If you’re not too
busy
,” he says, drawing out the word, “can you get my car down to the dealer. We’re also low on groceries, and someone’s coming to fix the stereo system at three and I’d like someone to be there to supervise them. Get them to sign NDA’s before they come inside.”

I hold the phone against my ear with my shoulder and jot everything Cole says into Val’s notebook. “I’ll get right on it.”

Despite my annoyance with Cole, my mind can’t help tripping back to the audition and I spend the whole morning smiling like a lunatic. When I finally finish with the groceries and pull into the driveway with ten minutes to spare before the workers arrive, Cole pulls up—in a rental car—behind me.

“Didn’t trust me?” I ask as I step outside.

He slides his sunglasses into the neck of his shirt. I wish he’d have kept them on. It’s hard looking him in the face after I broke all of my own rules last night—not once, but twice. Never mind the limo driver. If I never see him again it’ll be too soon.

“I finished on time,” he answers, but his smile tells me that I wasn’t far from the mark.

He rushes over to help me unload grocery bags from the trunk. It’s such a couple-like thing to do that I don’t know how to act. But then Cole is hauling the bags inside like it’s no big deal and I feel silly for even wondering if last night changed where we stand. It was a handjob and a quick fuck in a club restroom. Nothing to take home to mom.

“What’s wrong with you all of a sudden?” he asks as I join him in the kitchen.

“Nothing.”

He doesn’t believe me, but I pretend to be very concentrated on finding where everything goes in his kitchen until the workers arrive.

By the time they’re done, it’s four o’clock. Checking my phone becomes a full-time job. Four o’clock turns into five, which turns into six. I try to not let it bother me that it’s after business hours now. Hollywood doesn’t operate that way. And plus—they smiled.

There are a million things I could and should be doing, including picking up my stuff from my old apartment, but I’m too worried I’ll miss a call, so I just pad aimlessly around the house.

Cole’s poring over some paperwork at the island when I enter the kitchen and open the fridge.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

“What makes you say that?” I answer without looking at him. I’m sure my face gives me away.

“You’re wearing a tread on the floor,” he says.

My cheeks heat up, but I don’t answer. What can I say?

I decide I’m too anxious to eat and close the fridge.

“Waiting for a call?” he says.

I hadn’t even realized it, but I’d checked my phone again.

It’s painful, but I pocket the phone. “Just . . . waiting to hear back from a friend,” I say, feigning nonchalance.

I find my way back up to my room and try to work on my screenplay, but I can’t concentrate. Doesn’t help that Cole’s banging around downstairs in the kitchen. I almost go down there to ask what the hell he’s doing, but I don’t want him to be around when I get the call, and plus, if he sees me he might think up some request that’ll keep me from my phone.

I walk to the window. The sun sinks into the horizon, lighting downtown L.A. in a hazy purple glow.

Maybe I gave them the wrong number, I think. Maybe I don’t have good reception in the house. I slip outside to the patio, mindful of avoiding Cole in the kitchen, and pace around the pool. The purple sky fades to black.

But by the time nine p.m. hits, I have to face the facts. I didn’t get the role.

My eyes burn with the threat of tears.

I’m stuck in this job with a sexy asshole boss who makes me act like a slut without a brain, and no hope of ever becoming anything in my own right. A life of standing in the shadow of someone else’s star.

I throw the phone on the pool deck. It shatters. The patio door slides open.

“Rose?”

I suck in a deep breath and clear my throat without turning around. “Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

I nod. “Yes, fine. Just . . . needed some fresh air.”

“Are you crying?”

“No, I’m not crying,” I spit. “Why would I be crying?” Cole doesn’t say anything. I hear him step closer. No doubt he sees the shattered phone on the ground.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he finally asks.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say.

The distant sound of traffic fills up the silence.

“Are you hungry?” he finally asks.

I shake my head.

He sighs. “Are you going to keep being mad at me all night?”

“Who said I’m mad at you?”

“You’re not?”

“No! This isn’t even remotely about you.”

“And nothing is wrong, either,” he says, taking a step closer.

“Correct.”

“Then it wouldn’t be a problem,” he says, still walking closer, a dangerous

glint in his eyes, “if I tossed you in the pool.”

My eyes shoot up in alarm, and I scrabble back, but it’s too late. He tosses

me over his shoulder. I scream as I hurtle through the air, then hold my breath for the impact. I splash into the water, cold slicing up my spine. I thrash my way to the surface and gasp for air, my wet hair knotted in front of my face. Cole is laughing on the pool deck.

“You asshole,” I grit out.

He laughs harder.

Fury spikes in my system. I climb out of the pool, my wet clothes sucking against my body, and march over to him. He backs up with his hands out in defence, though he can’t stifle his laughter.

“My phone’s in my pocket!” he says.

“Then you better take it out.” I reach for his arm, but he leaps back, fumbling to get his phone out of his pocket. While he’s distracted, I tackle him. His body is rigid with muscle and he’s harder to knock over than I thought; the impact makes me stumble to my knees. But Cole pinwheels his arms as he leans violently toward the pool. I push him in the lower back, and he finally splashes in.

“Yes!” I pump my arm in the air, but when Cole comes up for air, he looks so mad that I instantly sober up. He swim-marches toward me and I stiffen.

Then he splashes me.

It’s so not what I was expecting that a laugh bubbles out of me. He grabs my ankles and drags me toward the pool’s edge.

I laugh, trying to kick away, but he shoulders my weight easily. I yelp as I splash into the pool. But when I come up, I’m laughing again, desperately clutching onto Cole so that I can take him with me if he tries to dunk me again. But he doesn’t dunk me, and I instantly become aware of our closeness. Our laughter dies away, Cole wet and hard against me. We’re both breathing too fast, and there’s a charged moment where he wants to kiss me and I want him to kiss me, and I think I’m going to spontaneously combust from desire if he doesn’t do it. Then he bends his head to mine and our lips meet. My eyes flutter closed in pure bliss. His lips are warm and wet and perfect and I want more, more.

His tongue finds mine and I feel a rush of liquid heat deep in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t even know how badly I needed this until I felt it. I cover his mouth with a hungry kiss, taking all of my disappointment, all of my anger over the audition out on his mouth. I want him now. Need him now. We’re a few feet from the pool stairs and I push him toward them. He stumbles back and falls onto the top stair. He looks so startled beneath me, sprawled back on the stairs, ankle-deep in water, that a thrill goes through me.

I tease the edge of my ruined dress up until my red lace panties are exposed. Cole’s eyes get hooded and he makes a rumbling noise at the back of his throat. Heat blooms between my legs as I slide the panties down around my ankles, then gingerly step out of them until they’re floating away on the sparkling water. I climb another step so that my open legs hover near his face and take his hand, pushing his fingers up into my wetness. He makes a low groan and I respond by moving my pelvis against him, fucking his fingers. He brings his head to me and his tongue slides eagerly over my clit, licking, nipping, biting. My legs go weak beneath me, my eyes rolling back in ecstasy. I lean into him, dig my fingers into his thick shoulders, and God, God, it feels so good. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I drag myself away and sink down into the water before him.