Undeniably Yours (Bass Cole) (Torn Series)

Undeniably Yours

A Torn Series Novella

Pamela Ann

Undeniably Yours

(TORN SERIES)

Digital
Edition

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.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2013 by Pamela Ann

“You’re passionate nature matches mine. Your promise reflects my own. If something was to happen, it’s comforting to know that your dead heart will be in
tertwined with my lifeless one.” I vowed with ferocity. “My heart for yours, Emma.”

-Bass Cole,
Blasphemous

Kiss My Heart

Have you ever tried to walk away from something you really wanted more than anything? After giving up on my parents, I had never come across another dilemma where I
yearned
to have something. Hold on to it. Love it. Until I did. And that
it,
was a woman.

A woman named Emma.

For those who were familiar with my dating record, I always went after the brunettes, the exotics and the accents. What did I like about them? Well… what’s not to like? I never went for ordinary. My tastes ran towards the peculiar and the unique. The more foreign the woman was, the better.

That was why the entire world wondered why I had fallen for the woman who was the polar opposite of my usual preference. An interviewer once asked me that particular question, yet I had no answer to give as to why that was except for what I felt when she was with me.

I knew loving someone wasn’t going to be a bed of roses, but never did I think it was going to be a total twilight of nightmares; all due to one man named Carter Mason, Emma’s ex.

Even with him in the picture, I pursued the blonde beauty, uncaring if the ex was hovering in the picture. I wanted
her
, that was all I knew. The rest could have their own opinions, but I
yearned
for this one person and I wasn’t going to give up because her ex was growling or stomping like a little boy on the sidelines.

No
. I took her out on a date, held my stance and promised that I wouldn’t take advantage of a woman who was mending a broken heart. Yeah, Emma was devastated. There were a lot of instances where I could’ve taken advantage of her gullible state, but not once did I waver because I had promised that, once I had her, there was no going back. Not. Ever.

When Emma decided to go back to her love—her Carter—was I crushed? Very much
; more than I was willing to admit to anyone, even to myself. I was shattered. My ego had been dented and my pride was bruised.

I thought then that no woman was ever going to get to mess with my head the way Emma had, vowing that when I saw her during our
movie shoot in Greece, I would be cordial and pretend that I had never once cared for her. I had eight months to toughen up, so I had nothing to worry about.

Everything was set. My mind. My heart. My pride. My body. However, all that crap went down the drain after a hard, roughened sexual exercise with Alexia—my woman for the time being—when I found Emma standing in the middle of the goddamned cottage, listening to me banging someone on the wall.

“Lex, can you grab me some water, too?” I yelled out at Alexia as I put my boxers on before marching outside the door, hoping to enjoy the Aegean breeze. A satisfied smile plastered on my face as I took a step out of the bedroom and saw my weakness standing there, shocked and pale at the sight of me. “Emma?”

What was she doing in here? What did she want with me? She chose him, didn’t she? The sudden wave of memories, along with the emotions that went with it, resurfaced once again.

Emma barely squeaked at my question.

What the hell? Why wasn’t she moving to leave my cottage?

“What are you doing here?” Where the hell was Alexia? Hell, as much as I tried to stay away, the inkling to move closer was getting the best of me. Seeing her again, in the flesh, for the first time in so long, made me feel…
everything.

Yes, everything was back like her rejection hadn’t happened.

Emma seemed unsure, staring at my chest then at the floor before she cleared her throat and spoke, not meeting my eyes, “I was told this was my cottage.”

By who?
I wanted to demand, but someone distracted me. “Here you go, stallion.” Alexia kissed my lips and handed me the water I had asked for, however now it seemed that the last thing I needed was water.

I was thirsty—
parched
—all right, though not for refreshments. My reaction to her made me tense—a little angry even—but not at her; at myself for being so affected by seeing her again.

“I thought this was mine. Jack himself arranged it for me.” Bitterness rolled off quite nicely with my words. Although my tongue spoke bitter words, my eyes feasted on her. Emma still, to that day, was the only woman who could make my heart gallop like it had been running a marathon.

Emma’s eyes hardened before me, standing her ground. “Barbara arranged mine.”

Barbara, our agent, did this on purpose?
What the fuck for?
To reconcile us or to provoke me some more? I hated how other people meddled in my business and I sure as hell didn’t need my agent to get in on my love life.

With a strangled groan, I retreated back to my room and hunted down my phone.

Emma could easily get another place to stay.

This was
my
cottage.

I had specifically asked to be placed as far as I could be from Emma. My agent was certainly fucking with my head.

The sooner this problem was fixed, the better.

Then, all of my resolve—all of my fight—drained away the moment I kissed her during filming. You see
, I had never kissed her. It was bizarre to be sprung the way I had when I hadn’t tasted the woman’s lips, but you know what? It happened to me and I couldn’t do shit about it. I had been hooked, line and sinker.

So, in my high emotional state, I took a chance yet again, even though what happened eight months ago almost obliterated me.

Simply and Utterly Mesmerized By You

How it all began…

“Bass Cole!” someone yelled my name. I didn’t bother turning around though, because the pap would ask me the same question;
am I dating Lydia Cornwell?

Since I had watched her fashion show the other night, people were now curious. Was I dating her? That remains to be seen. Had they asked me if I was sleeping with her, then the answer would’ve been an easy yes.

Life had been shit lately. Sleep had been hard to come by and I had been relying a lot more on alcohol to lull me to bed. Alcoholic I was not, though I certainly enjoyed a glass or two during meals.

The last couple of months had been horrid thanks to my parents. Top that with my hectic shooting schedule, demanding agents, other work commitments, promotional tours and a busy turnaround on my love life, it was a blessing I hadn’t gone mad amidst this turbulent lifestyle of mine. Yet alas, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Movies were my passion and acting my life’s force.

Without them, life would be meaningless.

For the past month, I’d been feeling out of sorts, like there was a gaping hole in me and, no matter what I did, the cavern
got bigger. So, instead of pondering away an entire night while nursing a glass of wine as I went through my favorite fifties films, I caved when a few of my party friends had called to go clubbing tonight.

These were merely party friends; people I enjoyed drinking and engaging in fun activities or conversations with. The real kind, though, I had only one—my best friend—Taylor. Apart from him, the rest were all social peers. Not one of them knew the real me.

It was a shallow way of living, but it was the Hollywood life. These smiling faces were conniving ones. I had learned a few lessons with betrayal from these folks. At the end of the day, it was all about the image; one where I’m grateful that I had been appreciated through my acting chops and not how I looked, though I must admit that my appearance had helped out once in awhile.

My plan was to stay an hour or two then bounce to the Laugh Factory on Sunset, however that changed the second I spotted
her
.

From afar, it appeared that her friends were toasting her. The way she smiled gave away that she had probably just recently broken up with her boyfriend.

“Dude! I heard you’re doing a film with a lot of nudity? You sure you like a role like that? You don’t want to be remembered as the guy with a nice ass like Brad Pitt did in Troy. Each time I recall that film, his ass pops to mind.” Wes grinned as he sniffed a bit. He was a decent actor, but his cocaine addiction might get in the way of his dreams. Another downfall in the entertainment industry was the drugs.

“Well, I hope my ass will be just as memorable then.” I shook my head as I took hold of a bottle and poured myself a glass of brandy.

Missy stood up and came over to my side of the booth, trying to sit on my lap, but I placed my arms there so she settled at my side; practically gluing herself to me. “Your ass
is
memorable, baby. When do I get to enjoy it again, huh?”

I hid my grimace. Missy was a result of too many drunken nights where I had ended up sleeping with her twice. She was brazen, easy and did what I wanted her to
do, yet for some reason, she wasn’t doing it for me. Not tonight. “You’re far better off without it. Trust me on that.”

That was how I fought off women, but sometimes I went less than subtle. Missy was a nice woman, though, even if she was somewhat of a gold digger. Let’s just simply say that two nights with her had ended up costing me over a hundred grand in presents since she had a great fixation with imported sports cars.

I think Missy made a retort, but I barely heard her because the woman I had been watching now got up to go dancing with a friend.

She wasn’t my usual taste, but I stood up anyway, as though my body was just automated to do so, willing to see her up close.

“Excuse me. I need to speak to someone.” I barely glanced back as I headed towards her dancing form.

Standing a few feet away from her, I watched.

Fascinated.

Enraptured.

This woman—
a stranger
—held something I wanted. What that was, however, I had no clue.

I felt it, though—
that thing
—the buzz, the electrifying jolt, the shockwaves, that pulling connection that simply called upon me.

The crater was ebbing away… I felt jerked awake, seeing things for the first time. Appreciative.

Inching closer, I took the chance and stood behind her back before I managed to take hold of her hip and pulled her against me. My head pounded, my blood rushed everywhere as I inhaled the scent of her hair. The entire time, my mind was telling me to back off, that I was truly losing my mind and I would be in the headlined tomorrow as a perverted stalker. I didn’t care. Not right now. I felt that need—
that pull
—that I hadn’t felt before.

“Can I dance with you?”

It was strange. I was curious why I was reacting the way I was. It was
just then
that she spun around and our eyes connected for the first time.

She had cornflower-blue eyes which held something good inside, but what captured me more was how unguarded they looked. The blonde had innocent eyes. Yes, the rejection and hurt were all evident in there, too. It was true what they said about the eyes being windows to your soul because, right at that moment, I had met someone that titillated me.

Her eyes gathered me in until something clicked in her and
then
she realized who I was.

Like an idiot, I stared back, needing to see how she would handle me. See if she was going to change and try hard to appease me similar to how the others had been, but to my surprise, the lovely blonde had her mouth hanging ajar.

It was one look I hadn’t expected from a woman I was interested in. From my fans, yes, but never with the women I associated my personal life with.

I saw how her eyes roved about, but kept still when they reached my lips. It was then that I wondered what she was thinking about. Sad she might be, however the woman definitely found me attractive. Whatever it was, I was sure she felt it, too;
the strange thing that I was getting from her
…

I was going to say something witty to break the tension, however she spun around and held my hand, the one resting against her hip and danced with me, bringing me relief.

It was odd.

It was invigorating.

Strangely beautiful
came to mind.

My hand tightened on her as I freely started to caress her other hip due to the pleasurable fact that she and I were glued to each other. Yet, I wanted more closeness. I
needed
to feel her soul.

Her scent wasn’t overpowering, nor was it subtle, but it affected me completely.

The entire time we danced, my body was swept away alongside hers, though my mind pondered on—worried even—that I was probably drunk. Maybe I needed to check into rehab because I was clearly hallucinating due to a barren emotional state. I mean, how could one feel empty one second and then feel they were being filled with everything, the next? It was confusing. As I stated before, it was strangely beautiful.

Like one of Pablo Neruda’s poems; if you let it, his words flow and you’ll feel them come alive. You’re affected by them, utterly enamored by his poetic ingenuity.

When the song ended, she moved away, giving me a blinding smile and a little wave. “It was great to meet you. Have a lovely night!” she spoke, moving away from me.

What?
She wasn’t going anywhere or I might go bonkers trying to figure out this madness that was swirling in my boggled head.

My hand immediately reached out to her, pulling her close. Yep, Bass Cole had lost his wits. “Wait. Do you want to join me and my friends at my table?” I gestured towards where my booth was at and, as expected, they were all watching, probably just as confused as I was as to why I was pursuing a woman that was not my usual type.

Unusual, yes, but beautiful nonetheless. Her soul, her core, was made of substance.
One look into her depths and I just knew.
She wasn’t a faker, which was a novelty in my line of field.

Hesitation etched all over her face as she weighed my invitation. “I’m good. Thank you though.” She tried to pull away, however my hand was on lockdown with hers. No, she better try to a better job in trying to get away because I wasn’t going to let her until I figured out why my reaction to her pulled at me. I mentally gave myself the entire night to find out why.

Yep, this woman was going to tolerate me dogging her around.
That’s simply how this cookie crumbles
, I thought with underlying purpose.

“Okay, well can I invite myself to join you then?” I used one of those easy, cocky smiles that the photographers always asked of me during a photo shoot—and to my luck—it seemed to work.

“If you want to, I guess,” she replied.

Hallelujah!

I smirked as I introduced myself. It was stupid, but I knew she deserved this much courtesy. She looked gullible for some reason. “I’m Bass Cole.”

She looked at my outstretched hand for a second before she clasped it with hers. “Emma Anderson.”

Emma…

Her name suited her personality. It was perfect, I tried to think past the magnetizing feel of her hand as I took it upon my lips and kissed it.

A soft gasp came from her.

I never EVER kissed a woman’s hand—except for films—so I was clearly baffled.

One look into her face—
her eyes
—was all it took and then I was that yearning fiend again.

Emma was beautiful, like a lot of women around here, but her gullibility topped with this strangely unique, hypnotic way she affected me, sent me into a state of stupefying awe.

I couldn’t help it. My spellbound body leaned over and whispered into her ear, needing another excuse to sniff her like a dog. Jesus, I wanted
more.
More of what precisely? It was another blank answer. “I want you, Emma Anderson.” This was the closest thing I could find to sum it up with. It was a typical line for any guy that wanted a woman, but Hell, my vocabulary seemed to have diminished somewhere.

“I’m not going to have sex with you, you know. If that’s what you’re after, you’re going to have to look elsewhere,” she said with all seriousness.

My crass blatant-ness made her pull back, so I had to reassure her that this wasn’t a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am situation. Far from it.

My eyes gleamed with pure amusement. “As much as that thought appeals to me right now, Emma Anderson, I don’t have sex on first dates either.” The fight to keep myself in check was an easy one, mind you.

Hell, yes, this was going to be a date. I was going to get it, one way or the other.

I wasn’t merely determined; I was hell-bent on it happening tonight. My questions wouldn’t be answered with a quick lay, but with
talking. I just needed to get to know her, talk some more… and I prayed to God that I would get the answers to my baffling thoughts.

My lazy smile got wider at her obvious confused expression. “What date? We just met. This is obviously not a first date!”

Not yet anyway
.

I smirked at her perplexed face. “Oh, but it will be, Emma. It definitely will be,” I whispered into her ear.

The thumping music of the latest single immediately vanished around me as I became absorbed by this lone being I held in my arms. Emma was puzzled and I gave a soft chuckle at her seemingly frozen state. “So, want to introduce me to your friends?” I pointed a finger at her table which had all of her friends staring back at us with avid curiosity.

Her forehead furrowed as she thought it over. Blue eyes looked at me with interest, and yet, with great hesitation. It was good to see that she wasn’t all that affected by me.

“Sure. I know someone who will be
very
interested to meet you.” She emphasized the word, cluing me in a bit.

I knew what she was getting at and I was willing to let that slide for now because I didn’t want to scare her away.

With my hand still intertwined with hers, I guided us towards her table and awaiting friends. When we got there, all the girls were overly giggly and way past enthusiastic to meet me. It was obvious that her group consisted of a lot of pretty girls—especially the one who scrutinized me with laser eyes—who was more of my type, but tonight was different because, for the very first time, I was pursuing something else.
God help me if I regret this decision
.

“Guys, this is Bass, as all of you know already.” Emma’s soft voice tugged at me. So I gave it a light squeeze for encouragement. “This is Cece, Trista, Amber and my good friend, Lindsey.” Lindsey was more of my type—or Amber—
usually.

As always, my work persona was now in place as I faced these expectant women. It was a mechanism that had shielded me well for years. “Hello, ladies. Glad to make your acquaintance.” I smiled as I guided Emma towards the leather seat.