Hard & Fast (Rules to Break #1) (9 page)

I hang up. I think about getting dressed, but instead wrap one of the hotel’s bathrobes around the tank top and shorts I wore to bed and pad down the hall. I hesitate before knocking. Oh, God. What if it’s another favor like the last time he needed my assistance late at night? What if Cole has a naked woman in his bed? I shake myself out. Cole wouldn’t be that dickish. Not now.

The door swings open with my hand still in the air, and Cole is there. His hair is dishevelled, but he’s still wearing the clothes he had on earlier. For a moment, I worry he’s been drinking.

“What is it?” I ask.

He steps aside, and I follow him into the room, relieved when I don’t see any naked women lounging about with their asses in the air. The door clicks quietly closed behind me. Cole’s room is twice as big as mine. In fact, I don’t think it can be called a room. There’s a separate bedroom and kitchen area, and a sunken living room between them that looks out onto the twinkling city. The bedside lamp glows in the dark. The sheets on the bed aren’t even rumpled. He hasn’t been to bed.

I spin around, and Cole is watching me.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “You haven’t been . . .”

The meaning of my unsaid words hits him. “No. God no,” he says.

“Oh. Well good.”

Silence stretches out.

“So what did you need?” I finally ask. “The favor.”

Another silence. Cole twines his fingers together. And then finally: “I lied.”

I blink once. Twice. “What?”

“I don’t have a favor. I just wanted to see you.”

Heat rushes through me, and that feeling—like standing on the edge of a cliff and being so goddamn happy about it—is back.

“Will you sleep in here tonight?”

“In . . . in the same bed as you?” I ask.

“If that’s okay,” he answers.

My heart thumps deep in my chest. I nod and shake out of my robe. Cole watches me as I climb into his bed. My cheeks are flushed as I scoot aside to make room for him. The mattress depresses as he climbs in next to me. I think he’s going to kiss me, touch me, but he doesn’t. He pulls me into his chest, his strong arms wrapped around me, and falls asleep within minutes. And before long, I fall into a deep sleep too.

When I wake up, he’s gone. There’s a note left on the nightstand.

Gone to the set. Enjoy Prague.

Love, Cole.

It’s a single word. Probably means nothing at all. Just a way to sign off. But I clutch the note to my chest and hope to hell that I’m wrong.

Chapter Ten

I watch the sun come up over the Charles Bridge, standing between statues of gods and gargoyles, until hordes of tourists and street performers push me out.

And I think about Cole.

I wander the Old Jewish Cemetery, twisting through gnarled trees and cracked sandstone and marble headstones dating back to the 15
th
Century, piled one on top of another.

And I think about Cole.

I visit Prague Castle and gaze up at the stunning spires and flying buttresses, completely in awe of its grandeur even after a day of peering at incredible castles.

And I think about Cole.

I sit at a pavement café and drink rich coffee while I work on my screenplay, feeling more inspired than I have in months.

And it’s all because of Cole.

The realization brings a wave of elation followed by a fear so immediate my heart thumps painfully in my chest. I can deny it all I want, but the truth is, I’m madly and deeply in love with Cole Dean. And if he doesn’t feel the same way, if he ends this right now, it’s going to hurt. Bad.

I finger the note in my pocket. I’ve taken it out so many times today that I can perfectly imagine the four-letter word, written in his scratchy boy script. Except now, it doesn’t bring me the same happiness it did all day. Now, it feels like a friendly note instead of a declaration of love.

I’m suddenly desperate to see Cole, to prove myself wrong. He must be back from the set by now.

It’s almost ten p.m. by the time I make it back. I stand outside the hotel and watch the lighted windows rising up dozens of stories in front of me, fingering the note in my pocket.

There’s still a chance for you,
I tell myself.
You can stop it all now while you still have the slightest chance to make it out undamaged.

“Are you alright, madam?”

The bellhop’s concerned face comes into focus. I paste on a bright smile. Then I nod and push inside the revolving door of the hotel.

Red velvet carpet flashes past, my shoulders bumping into bodies as I push through a crowd, but I hardly see them. Hardly feel anything. My heart races as the elevator ascends, bringing me closer and closer to our floor. When the doors ding open, my palms are slick with sweat. I pause at my door for only a moment before I walk straight to Cole’s room. I need to see him. He’s a sick addiction and I can’t seem to stop.

I knock, my heart hammering as I wait.

And wait. And wait.

Cole isn’t here.

Something cracks open inside me, and I suddenly feel like the world’s biggest fool. He’s probably fucking some hot European chick while I’m wasting my trip to Prague pining after a man who doesn’t care about me.

I go back to my room, angrily swiping my key card in front of my door, shouldering it open as I drop my bag inside.

Cole is sitting on my bed.

“Cole!”

He stands up. “Rose.”

He’s wearing a pair of perfectly fitted, faded jeans and a cashmere sweater pushed up on his arms. My heart beats wildly in my chest. I shut the door behind me, still staring bewildered at him.

“You’re back,” I say stupidly.

“I got tired of checking in so I asked the front desk to make me a copy of your room key. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No,” I mutter. “Not at all. Why didn’t you just call me?”

“I didn’t want to make you think you needed to rush back.” He seems to notice my expression and rushes forward. “You’re upset—did something happen?”

I shake my head and wave a distracted hand. “Nothing. No, I’m fine.”

He doesn’t buy it, but I can’t explain what happened. Not without telling him that I’m desperately in love with him and scared to death. So I change the subject.

“How was filming today?” I ask brightly. My voice cracks, and I bite my lip. I can’t do this. I can’t hold it together.

“It was fine,” he answers.

I nod.

“Did you have fun today? See a lot from your list?”

Another nod. I can’t meet his eyes. Can’t look up. He’d know everything. I can feel it all written plainly on my face.

Cole steps forward and I still don’t look. I focus on his arms, on the way the muscles shift as he tenses his fists and cracks his knuckles, a nervous gesture. I focus on the river of blue veins running under his tanned skin, on his hands, and how much I want those hands on my body.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you today,” Cole says. Warmth buzzes through my body, and I take a sudden breath, trying to control my emotions.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you too,” I admit.

He tips my chin up, and I finally meet his eyes. They’re so green it’s as if they belong on a cat, and I find myself gasping, my mouth parting for him. The air is thick and crackling with tension.

“Oh, God, Rose,” Cole says. “What are you doing to me?”

He crushes his lips to mine. All pretence of holding back gone. Shattered. Obliterated on the cobbled street below.

We’re colliding. Kissing. Ripping off clothes. I’ve never wanted something—someone—so badly in my life. We’re up against the wall, panting, falling onto the bed, a tangle of limbs. I’m not even fully naked before he’s inside me, and I cry out in relief, clinging desperately to him, nails digging into skin. We come fast and hard together, breathless and drenched in sweat. But we don’t break apart, even as our bodies soften.

Cole’s beautiful body glistens underneath me, all muscle and sweat and man, and I want to touch every inch of him to make sure he’s real. That part of me that was scared as hell in the coffee shop earlier today urges me to do it, get my fill of him now, while I still can. I trail my fingers across Cole’s chest, shyly now that the adrenaline has faded. But Cole grabs my face and forces me to look at him. Then he kisses me deeply, his eyes open on mine. A shock of heat pulses through me, and I touch him hungrily now, every single place I’ve wanted to. Cole’s breaths turn quick and shallow, and I drag my mouth away from his to explore him with my lips, dropping kisses on his shoulders, running my tongue across the ripples on his stomach, nibbling along the trail of hair that leads down to his cock, which is rock hard again as if he hadn’t just fucked me senseless. I love his taste. His smell. I can’t get enough of him.

Cole sits up, but I push him back down and climb on his cock. He groans, and his eyes flutter closed. I rock on top of him, relishing the feel of his length deep inside me until I’m gasping tiny breaths.

He flips me over with our bodies still connected and pins me onto the bed, holding me closely as our slick skin slides together. I fist my hands into the sheets, gasping, begging as he drives me into the bed and the pulsations build and build.

“Cole,” I moan.

He thrust roughly into me at the sound of his name. I pull him closer, deeper, until my body shatters beneath him. As if he was just waiting for me to come, Cole’s body tenses above me and he jerks into me hard, one last time before he falls onto my chest. His breaths come hard and fast in my ear, and I can’t help feeling satisfied that I made this man come so completely undone.

He falls onto the sheets next to me, and we lie together for long minutes. Cole trails gentle fingers in my hair, down my spine, and we breathe each other in. A room service cart trundles down the hall and it feels like another planet away. Cole laughs at the ceiling, a tinkling, contented sound, and I smile too.

We order room service and put on a movie. I lean my head against his warm chest and feel his heart beat steadily under my cheek.

“Remind me tomorrow to pick up a gift for my mom,” he says, twirling his fingers in my hair.

I roll over to look at him. “Tell me about your mom,” I say.

Cole smiles. A real, genuine smile that brightens his eyes.

“If it wasn’t for her, I’d be dead.” He sees the confusion in my face and continues. “It’s kind of a long story . . .”

I shrug. “I can call in sick to work tomorrow,” I say. “The boss will never suspect.”

He laughs, his chest bouncing lightly, and tucks my hair back from my face.

“My parents got divorced when I was young—two or three—and I didn’t see my dad much after that. I don’t even know where he lived. But I still thought about him a lot. Mom never talked about him, so I made up all these fantasies in my head where he was a CIA agent off on important matters of national security. I’d basically built him up into a hero. I remember one year he sent a birthday card in February when my birthday is in December, but I didn’t care that he was late. I was just so happy that he’d remembered. And then one time he picked me up from school and took me out for lunch at Burger King. That was the best day of my life, seeing my dad on the school steps.” Cole smiled, which turned into a laugh. “My mom was
pissed
. He hadn’t let her know and she thought something happened to me. But I was happy. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t involved and that I saw him once every couple of years—I loved my dad. And then I started getting roles, and all of a sudden Dad was coming around more and more. I wasn’t stupid. I knew it was . . . convenient, but I didn’t really care. I was nineteen and I was just happy he was finally showing interest. I thought we could start over, you know?”

His finger trails down my back, raising the hairs on my arms. He stares absently ahead, as if remembering everything in Technicolor.

“He invited me to his house at Christmas and I knew Mom was hurt that I said yes, but she never said anything. I brought my girlfriend, and during the dinner she revealed that she was pregnant.”

I stiffen. I distantly remember some reports of a pregnancy years ago, but I’d reduced them to rumor. Turns out they were true all along.

“We hadn’t told anyone yet. I hadn’t even told my mom. The whole thing was a shock to us—we’d only been seeing each for a few months, and there was only one slip up.”

I school my features into neutrality. It’s uncomfortable hearing him talk about the details of his sex life with someone else.

“The next day, it was all over the tabloids.”

“He sold you out,” I whisper.

“My own dad.” Cole’s jaw tenses, and I see that the anger of it all isn’t so far from the surface, even all these years later. “She lost the baby, and I took it badly. Turned to drugs, and the next thing I knew, I was lying in an alley after some bookie beat me to a pulp because I didn’t come through on a payment. I called my mom and she enrolled me in rehab. She stuck with me every step of the way. She never stopped believing in me, even when I stopped believing in myself.”

“She sounds amazing,” I say.

“She is. I mean it when I said she’d like you, by the way.” He smiles across at me, and I smile back, even though I somehow doubt that she’d be impressed with the assistant he’s fucking.

“And your dad?” I ask.

“I never spoke to him again.”

It’s so sad I don’t know what to day. As much as I haven’t gotten along with my parents since moving to Hollywood, I know they’d never sell me out. I know they love me.

“Is that why you’re so weird about the tabloids?” I ask.

“I just . . . don’t want them to have any part of my personal life,” he says.

“I understand.”

We lapse into silence, but it isn’t uncomfortable.

“Now that I’ve told you personal things,” he finally says. “I have a question for you. Tell me what you were working on that day on the set.”

I stiffen, but I can’t very well not share after Cole spilled his heart out to me.

“I’m writing a screenplay,” I say nervously.

“Seriously?”

My cheeks flame with heat. “It’s just a hobby, really. It’s not like I think it’ll get picked up or anything . . .” I’m mumbling, and it’s all lies. It isn’t just a hobby, and I do hope it gets picked up. I hope for it desperately.

“I want to read it,” he says.

I shake my head.

“Why not?”

“Because I want to keep my personal life and private life separate.”

He grins.

“I know. I’ve been doing a pretty terrible job so far. Hey, the credits are rolling. Want to pick another movie?” I grab the remote.

“You’re changing the subject.”

I sigh and flop back on the bed.

“I promise I won’t judge you,” he says.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” I say. “It’s first draft material. I’ll show it to you when it’s in better shape.”

“I want to see it now.”

I groan. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

He simply smiles.

I roll off the bed and find my bag still discarded by the door. I take the notebook out, hesitate, then drop it on the rumpled sheets in front of him like it’s on fire. Cole cracks the spine. His eyes graze over the page, his eyebrows knit with concentration. My stomach knots with tension.

He glances up.

“It’s just a first draft,” I say.

He doesn’t answer, just returns his eyes to the notebook, keeps flipping pages. Then he stops abruptly and closes the book in an almost reverential way. “This is really good, Rose.”