Hard & Fast (Rules to Break #1) (7 page)

Chapter Seven

Turns out that press junkets are utterly manic and totally exhausting, and that’s just from my point of view as Cole’s assistant. I never realized what it must be like for the journalists, never mind the actors and director. But today, I’m learning. While I’ve been running around fetching water and coffee or standing at the back of the room trying not to get in the way, at least a hundred journalists have been herded through the room, where they then get three minutes to hurl the same questions at the screenwriter on Cole’s right, Cole himself, Kenzie on his left and the director sitting next to her.

They’re doing promo for the second film in the trilogy while they’re filming the third instalment. And I’ve seen Cole unleash his devastating charm approximately ninety times so far this afternoon. I’ve been trying not to stare at him, but as I glance around the room, it’s obvious that no one’s giving me a second look so I give in to it.

He’s leaning back in his seat, relaxed and slouchy in front of his current interviewer, a woman who obviously never met a can of hairspray she didn’t like. The lights are bright, the air-con is up high, and there are cameras everywhere. Cole smiles, like he’s smiled at the exact same question all day, and I can see the effect he has on everyone in the room. They’re all leaning in towards him. The interviewer touches the back of her neck, her hair moving in one solid mass as she trails her fingertips down the side of her neck. I can’t tell if she’s self-conscious or flirting, nervous about her job or just plain unsettled by how good-looking Cole is.

It could be all of the above.

I watch as Cole talks with easy grace and the interviewer laughs. Next to him, Kenzie is leaning in too, her legs crossed towards him. She has the most impossibly immaculate skin I have ever seen. Seriously, it’s inhuman. Her teeth are perfect and so white I never want to open my own mouth again. She laughs and reaches over, touching Cole’s leg when he says something, drawing her into the conversation.

I’ve now seen them run through this little act ninety one times. And yes, I’m counting, because it feels like a little twist of a knife in my gut every time for no particular reason that I care to identify.

The interviewer gets her last question in and they all laugh, Kenzie’s hand resting loosely on Cole’s leg now, with her beautiful nails and her stupid beautiful skin. In the few seconds between Hairspray hustling out and the next guy moving in, Kenzie leans in to Cole, saying something low in his ear. Her swooshy salon hair falls long and curling over his shoulder and he smiles at whatever quick comment she made before she flips her hair back. A genuine, warm, unbearably great smile.

This is quite literally the last thing on this earth I want to be subjected to watching. If I die and go hell, it will be an eternal press junket with Kenzie and Cole.

There’s a quick flurry of movement at the front of the room and I snap up from my slump against the wall as Kenzie moves past me and out of the door. Her assistant trots after her and they both disappear into a ladies room while the rest of the guys at the front stretch their legs and swig from water bottles.

I go to step forward, speak to Cole, ask him if he needs me to do anything, but he’s staring after Kenzie with a look on his face that stops me dead. He looks intense. Absorbed. As though he’s thinking hard about something. 

His glance darts up to me. I look away, pretend to be digging in my bag.  

~

The shower curtain whips open.

I scream.

“Where’s your passport,” Cole asks.

“God, Cole,” I exhale, my heart racing. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Passport—do you have one?” His eyes are wide and bright, and he’s tensed like he’s ready to run a marathon. Not even glancing down at my wet, naked breasts. “Quick, Rose,” he adds.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “Yes. It’s in my nightstand. Why?”

He whips the curtain closed and disappears. The shower hisses in the sudden silence. Disappointment and regret fight a war inside me. Last night, I felt completely justified in my revenge. Even this morning, I woke up with a smug smile on my lips before the press junket wiped it off. Now, I just feel . . . worried.

I hurry to rinse the soapsuds off my body and turn off the water, wrapping myself in one of the plush towels hanging on the rack outside. Steam floats out of the bathroom as I step into the hallway. Cole’s booming voice carries from downstairs. I wind down the steps, but pause outside of the kitchen, realizing that he might be meeting with someone and that I’m wearing next to nothing.

“That’s Rose Weatherston. W-E-A-T-H-E-R-S-T-O-N,” he says, spelling it out. A jolt goes through me. “January 12
th
, 1992,” he adds.

My birthday.

Who is he talking to? And why is he telling them my information?

At least I know he’s on the phone—I can only hear his end of the conversation. I slip into the room. His eyes flick up when he sees me, then move down to the curve of my breasts that I’m not at all purposely propping up by crossing my arms. But before I can feel any sort of satisfaction that he noticed, his eyes return to the open passport in front of him. He clears his throat. “Sorry, what was that?” he asks. “Passport number. Yes, it’s 5682—”

Sourness fills my gut. He’s more interested in business than the fact that a towel is the only thing between me and complete nudity. Maybe blue balling him last night was going too far. Maybe he’s going to finally give me what I asked for and leave me alone for good.

But what any of this has to do with my passport, I don’t know. All I do know is that I can’t leave until I find out.

I lean against the counter, but I’m too curious to stay still and pace around the kitchen instead, twining my fingers together. Minutes drag out, and my hair starts to dry into loose curls around my shoulders. The whole time, Cole determinedly watches the counter, not sparing even a single glance up at me.

Early morning sunlight slants in through the patio doors, frosting the hair that curls around Cole’s ears with a golden halo. His brow is knit with concentration, and I can’t stop looking at the way the muscles in his arm shift when he jots something down on the notepad open in front of him. God, he’s sexy. I want him. I want him, even if it’s just casual sex, and now I’ve ruined everything. What did I think—that just because he fucks his assistant it means something? He probably fucks all of his assistants. It’s like he said—it’s just sex. And now it’s over. I fight the urge to grab the phone out of his hands and ask him what the hell is going on. Anything to make him put me out of my misery already.

Finally, he ends the call.

“What was that all about?” I ask. And my acting skills must be better than I thought, because my voice barely cracks when I say it.

He swings his gaze toward me. “My agent needed your information to book your flight.”

“My flight?” I straighten, panic slicing through me. Where’s he sending me?

Before I can stop it a thought flits into my head: he’s sending me away.

A hot surge of adrenaline shoots through me. Who the hell does he think he is? As if he can banish me from a whole city because we got in a fight.

“The flight is in three days,” Cole continues.

I curl my hands into fists and take deep breaths in through my nose. Forget about his frosted hair and shifting muscles. I am going to absolutely lose it on him.

“Rose, is something wrong?” Cole asks. “If it’s the late notice, I should remind you that I said you’d need to be available twenty-four seven and able to travel when I hired you. I don’t always take my assistants when I travel but I’ll need you to handle a few things for me.”

Shock slams into me and I shake my head. “Wait, you’re . . . you’re coming with me?”

“Of course.” His brow creases with confusion.

“Okay, I’m so confused. Where are we going?” I ask.

“Prague.”

“Prague?” I repeat. “As in . . . Prague in the Czech Republic?”

“That same one.”

I make a noise at the back of my throat.

“Where did you think we were going?” Cole asks.

My mind whirs. He’s not firing me, and we’re going to Europe. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. A smile creeps over my lips. I’ve never been to Europe before, let alone somewhere as exotic as the Czech Republic.

“Prague,” I squeal. “I’m going to Prague!” I can’t help it: I scream, twirling and fumbling to hold up the towel. And the whole time, Cole watches me with a grin pulling up his lips. Then a thought stops me short.

“Oh my God. Three days. I have nothing to wear. I need to call Kate. I need to go shopping.”

Cole chuckles and pushes up from his stool, circling the island.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” he says. Then he grabs my wrist and pulls me roughly toward him. I gasp. His smile is gone now, and all that’s left is a dark hunger.

“Cole, what are you doing?” I ask.

He yanks my towel off. Cold air rushes up at me, prickling my skin and making my nipples instantly hard.

“I’m showing you who’s the boss.”

He spins me around and pins my arm behind my back so that my stomach is pressed up against the island. A moan escapes me. The brutality, his power, the rawness of it all—it’s unbearably hot. And then in one fluid motion, he shoves himself inside me. I’m not ready for it, and I gasp as he fills me, his cock somehow even bigger when I don’t have the time to get used to the idea of it being inside me. He reaches one hand around and grabs my breast roughly, using the other to pull my hips back and drive my ass into him. There’s nothing romantic about it, and it makes liquid heat rush through me, starkly at odds with the pain of his rough entrance and my stomach grinding into the kitchen counter. And before long, I’m wetter than if he’d spent hours priming me. I don’t want him to stop. I want this man to dominate me. Use me. Fuck me.

My head rolls forward and a groan escapes me. He responds by changing his angle so that he drives deeper into me, filling spaces I didn’t think were possible to reach. Waves after wave of pleasure rock through me, building, soaring, cascading.

“Oh, God,” I mumble.

“You like that?” he growls.

“I’m, I’m going to come.”

His body goes stiff behind me, and he lets out a grunt. Just before I’m about to explode with sweet relief, he pulls out. It happens so quickly that my legs fail under my weight, and I almost stumble to the ground if not for the counter’s support beneath me.

Cole pulls his pants up over his cock. “What’s wrong, Rose?”

Warm wetness slips down my leg.

“You asshole,” I manage.

A grin pulls up his lips. He pats my butt. “And now we’re even. Better get packing. Like you said: you only have three days.”

Then he winks at me and saunters out of the room, whistling a tune as I heave against the counter naked.

Chapter Eight

“Prague? Prague!” Kate yells. She pulls down her sunglasses and looks around. We’ve gotten a few stares since I told her about the trip and she hasn’t stopped yelling the word Prague. She’s had a couple of drinks already and it does nothing for her volume control.

“Sorry,” she whisper-yells as I shush her. We’re sitting outside a restaurant in the Grove. She insisted on coming here since I’m leaving in a couple of hours and she insists on paying, so I’m still nursing my first drink. “Damn, do you know any Czech at all?”

“Not a word,” I admit.

“Bet this job’s not looking so bad right about now, is it?”

I think about my frustration in the kitchen three days ago. Cole hasn’t made a move to touch me since, and fuck if I’m going to go begging for it. Even though just thinking about him has me tied up in knots.

“Come on. Finish your drink,” I say, unwilling to answer the question. I still can’t bring myself to tell Kate what I’ve been doing with Cole and besides, at the rate she’s drinking, soon everyone in the bar is going to know Cole Dean is flying to Prague and I’m going with him. I point to the storefront of La Perla, just visible across the street. “Last minute shopping,” I say. “Then I really have to go.”

Kate’s flicking through pics on tourist sites on her phone as she downs the last of her mojito. “Look at this architecture! I can’t believe you’re going for a whole week. I wonder what he’ll have you doing while you’re there?”

She grabs her purse and pays the bill and I try not to think about what he’ll have me doing, or what I wish he’d have me doing. He’s barely been in the house since the kitchen incident and now I don’t know what to think.

I slip my oversize sunglasses on because I’m sure what I’m thinking about is written all over my face, but Kate doesn’t say anything as we cross the street and push through the door into the air conditioned cool of the underwear store.

Once we’re confronted with row upon row of backlit displays of lace and silk though, she gives me a quizzical look.

I feel myself blush. “I just got paid,” I say. “Thought I could treat myself.”

“Honey, it’s someone else who’s getting the treat if you wear these.” She waves a scrap of gossamer thin black lace at me and grins. “Are you
seeing
someone? Or just hoping to get lucky with a European hottie?”

“I’m
working
.” I know I’m coming off a bit prim and proper, but we’re skating too close to the truth here, and the truth is I want to drive Cole Dean insane with lust and then maybe tell him to fuck off.

“Well I don’t know what kind of work you’re planning to do in this,” she says, picking up a gold bustier that should be tacky but is just plain awesome instead and which I know would look great with my skin and hair.

I check the time again and flit quickly through the racks, selecting mainly black. Kate’s watches me thoughtfully and when I’m about to go through to the changing room, she says, “What’s it really like living with Cole Dean?” The way she says it, serious now, makes me realize how secretive I’ve been. How I’ve brushed away her questions and avoided her and not told her any of the things I’d be telling her right now if I hadn’t let all my morals go to hell and ruined everything by having sex with my boss.

The sales girl’s head snaps up and she stares at me unashamedly. I see her open her mouth and I know what’s going to come out. Just what I don’t want – attention for the fact that I’m Cole’s PA.

I push past into the changing rooms and close the door.

~

Three hours later I’m sitting in a plane seat next to Cole being politely ignored while a flight attendant pours a soft drink for him. It’s the third time she’s checked if he wants something. “Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything else,” she says, giving him an actual flutter of her eyelashes. I swear she comes over just so he can watch her walk away. The black pants she’s wearing fit her ass so well I see several heads turn as she makes her way down the aisle.

“Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” Cole asks. “It’s a fourteen hour flight.”

“I know how long it is,” I say, more snappy than I intended. “Sorry, I-Is there anything you’ll need me to do right away when we get there?” 

Cole takes a sip of his drink and winks at the flight attendant – actually winks – who’s managing to serve somebody else champagne and give Cole a dazzlingly sexy smile at the same time. “You took care of the cars and the hotel already, right?” he asks in distracted way.

Of course I did. What does he think I am, some kind of idiot? “It’s my job isn’t it?” I say, still sounding testy. 

“Is something wrong, Miss Weatherston?” he asks.

No. I did not purchase several sets of exorbitantly priced underwear for the sole purpose of this trip. I am not in the least bothered by the many and varied girls, of whom this flight attendant is just one, that must fling themselves at him on a daily basis. And no, I don’t mind at all that this is my job and yet the last time my employer was near me, he pushed me against his kitchen counter and fucked me senseless only to leave me hanging at the last second. It’s fine. It’s all fine.

What I say instead is, “No. We’re on schedule and everything is fine. I’m just tired is all.”

I use the excuse to open my laptop and finalize some details for the trip then glance over the list I made of sights I want to see. I’ve looked at it a thousand times already and I practically have it memorized. I’m itching to open my screenplay, but he might see it or ask what I’m working on, so instead, when I’m done, I put headphones on and start watching some movie. I think it’s supposed to be funny, but I can’t focus because Cole is toying with the ice stirrer in his drink, running his fingers up and down it and then swirling the ice, and it is making me crazy.

When the film finishes I’m none the wiser as to what the plot was and I decide to look at the pictures I’ve saved on my laptop. I should focus on the trip. I’m going to Prague. It has a fricken castle and I mean really, when am I going to get the chance to see that again?

I’m picturing myself wandering across Charles Bridge, my hair blowing out around me, then taking in the National theatre, when my favorite sexy flight attendant walks past again with her glossy dark hair and what can only be described as fuck me lipstick on. Her mouth curls up in a provocative little smile just for Cole and then she’s gone to the back end of the plane again.

Minutes later, Cole’s finished his drink and is out of his seat heading the same way the flight attendant went
.
I don’t look at him as he walks past. More minutes pass – three to be exact – and I glance behind me. I can’t see him. I can’t see her either. I click through more photos of interesting places I’d like to see in Prague, which is another eight whole hours away, but I’m becoming increasingly convinced that Cole might spend the rest of those eight hours joining the mile high club with his newest fuck buddy. I can’t believe I ever hoped I was different. But I’m a lay to Cole, just like that model in his bed the first night, just like anybody else. Except I’m not even that anymore if he’s screwing other people.

I’ve made a huge mistake. Colossal. I think about the possibility of asking the pilot if he’d be so good as to turn around and take me home, or just let me off here. I’m going to spend the week holding Cole’s jacket while he fucks his way around a film set and a foreign city. And it’s my own damn fault.

I slam the laptop lid shut and recline my chair. Immediately a flight attendant brings over a blanket and I take it gratefully. I can hide under it like a six-year-old and maybe when I come out my life won’t be such a catastrophe.

When Cole comes back he bangs his way into the seat, orders a drink in a loud voice and then clinks the ice around so much he must be trying to destroy it. I don’t open my eyes though. I don’t want to see his smug I-just-got-screwed face.

After about three hours, or maybe twenty minutes, I feel a light touch on my knee.

“Rose.”

I open one eye. Cole is crouched in front of me. His hair is mussed in a way I’d find totally irresistible if I’d been the one to make it look like that.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Dean?” I say.

“Ask not what you can do for me, but what I can do for you,” he says. His hand is still on my knee. I can feel the heat of it through the blanket draped over me.

I pull myself up a little in the reclined chair. “Are you drunk?”

“Stone cold sober,” he says, one hand on his chest and the other working its way under the blanket to my bare leg. I’m wearing a comfy little sundress and some not so comfy new underwear underneath and his hand now rests on my thigh just under the hemline.

I keep my voice low. “What are you doing? Haven’t you had enough for one flight? And in case you hadn’t noticed, we are on an airplane. As in, in public.” I glance around. The seats are set off from each other in pairs, curved around and tilted to the window sides to make semi-private little pods, but there are still maybe thirty other people just feet away from us.

“I’m very aware of where I am. And who I’m with,” he says. His fingers slip higher, grazing over my skin. My thigh tenses under his touch.

He frowns. “And what do you mean ‘had enough for one flight’?”

I look around for the unnecessarily sexy flight attendant, but she’s still nowhere to be seen.

“You were gone to the
bathroom
an awfully long time, Mr. Dean,” I say, pointedly. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” I pull my leg away from his hand and push my knees together.

Cole’s frown deepens for a second before he realizes what I’m getting at. “You’re mistaken, Miss Weatherston. The pilot’s kid wanted an autograph and I obliged. That’s where I was.”

“Oh,” I manage to say. Well that’s not embarrassing at all. And now he knows I was sitting here the whole time sulking like a jealous teenager.

He kneels in front of me, pushing both hands under the blanket, fingertips tracing patterns over my thighs, which I’ve got clamped together. His chest presses against my knees and I see the muscle in his jaw twitch.

“Although, you’re giving me ideas, Miss Weatherston,” he murmurs, glancing in the direction of the bathroom.

A thrill shoots down my stomach. Stupid, immature jealousy. I decide right then that is has no place in our relationship. This is just for fun and I’ll drive myself crazy if I think any other way.

He doesn’t take his eyes off me, and his hands move up the sides of my thighs, beneath my dress. He stops and sucks in a breath when he reaches the delicate lace of my panties, and suddenly I don’t know why I’m keeping my legs together because I want the weight of him pressed up against me right now.

He moves in as soon as I part my legs, running his fingers so lightly over my stomach and down to my clit that I shudder. I glance around. No one’s looking, but we cannot do this here. I just can’t.

I try to push up to sitting, but he slides one hand up my dress, and holds me still, flipping my bra upwards and running a thumb over my nipple. My back arches involuntarily and he pushes my panties aside and uses his other thumb to rub circles over my clit. I shove my hand over my mouth to stop myself crying out. Cole’s body is taut between my legs, my thighs squeezing him, urging him to come closer. His fingers tease at my opening and I want to beg and scream. I stifle it all, but my body is shaking and it gets to the point where it’s unbearable.

With a wicked grin, he ducks under the blanket and I feel one hot breath on the hinge of my thigh before he kisses me over the sheer fabric of my panties. It makes me wild and the smallest sound escapes my lips, like a whimper. I’ve never wanted anything more than to tell him exactly what I want him to do to me and what I want to do to him, and I can’t say a word.

I try to slow my breathing, keep quiet. God, if somebody sees this. It’ll be all over the Internet. Photos of Cole and his devastating smile, playing up to his rogue image, and me, the mystery girl of the minute, desperate and talentless and willing to do anything for her fifteen minutes of fame.

It’s cheap and oh so dangerous for a girl in my position and my heart is pounding out of my chest with how much I need him to make me come.

Cole’s hair brushes my inner thigh and he lifts the material of my panties up with his fingers and hovers over me. I can feel how close he is. I fist a hand in his hair but he holds still, gripping my thighs as though he’s trying to restrain himself. Let him try. I can’t.

I half pull him up, half slide down to meet him, his chest against mine,
hard and tight.

“If I don’t get what I want in the next twenty seconds, it’s going to kill me,’ I whisper savagely in his ear.

“I love it when you tell me what to do,” he says, but he’s only half joking, his eyes wild and unfocused.

“Take me to the bathroom right now.”

“You go first. I’ll follow in a few minutes.” That smile again. “Can you wait that long?”

I can’t, but I’ll have to. I yank my dress down and glance around as I hurry to the back end of the cabin and slip into the bathroom. My cheeks are flushed, my hair is mussed at the back and my pupils are dilated like I’m on something.

Three seconds later, the door opens. “That was not
a few minutes
.” I whirl to face him as he clicks the door locked and we’re alone in a business class bathroom that sure as hell isn’t like anything I’m used to. But something tells me the rest of this flight isn’t going to be anything like what I’ve experienced before either.