Текст книги "Hollywood Dirt"
Автор книги: Alessandra Torre
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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 26 страниц)
CHAPTER 74
At the end of a very long day, Cole walked into the hotel suite, tossing his wallet on the counter, while he scrolled through his phone. He found the Kirklands’ home phone number and pressed SEND, trying to do the math in his head. It was… midnight there? Eleven?
“Hello?” her voice was thick, almost drugged.
“Summer?” He removed his watch and dropped it on the granite, holding on to the edge of the island as he worked off his first dress boot. “It’s Cole.”
“I know.” She yawned. “It’s late. Are you just now getting home?”
“Yeah. But it’s not that late here.”
“Still a long day.” There was a rustle of something and then quiet.
He got his second boot off and walked to the first chair in the living room, collapsing into it. Why had he called her? He tried to think of a reason. To check on Cocky? That was flimsy. “Summer?” The line had been quiet too long. “Summer?” he repeated, more urgency in his tone. This woman’s refusal to lock doors was ridiculous. What if someone had come in, snuck into her room?
“Hmm?” More rustling.
“Did you just fall asleep?”
“Uh-huh.” A response completely lacking in apology.
“Do you know how many girls would kill for me to call them? The studio runs giveaways for shit like this all the time, with millions of entries.”
“Girls,” she mumbled. “Not women. I used to want a belly button ring too, once.”
“I’m not a belly button ring.” That was a statement he never thought he’d say aloud.
“Uh-huh.” The word was muffled, as if she had a pillow over the receiver.
“Where are you? Which bedroom?” He tried to think of which bedrooms had phones. Tried to remember if they were cordless or not.
“Yours. I tried to sleep in the downstairs bedroom, but it was too hot.” She suddenly sounded a little more awake. “Is that okay?”
Good Lord. Her voice wasn’t the only thing that just woke up. His cock suddenly needed an adjustment, and he undid his belt, his hands busy, purely for comfort reasons, unzipping his pants just to give his cock room to breathe.
“What are you wearing?” the words came out much more sexual than he had intended.
“What?” she giggled against the phone. “Cole Masten, I am not doing this with you.”
A giggle. That was new. He liked it. He ran his fingers down the length of himself, then wrapped his hand around it, squeezing his cock firmly. “I’m asking purely out of concern for Cocky. He’s never seen a naked woman before. I worry about his poultry hormones.”
“His poultry hormones?” her words were no longer muffled. She had probably rolled over. On her back. Her eyes staring up at him. “You don’t have to worry about Cocky. I’m not naked.”
“Oh.” He dragged his fist from the base of his dick to the head, his grip firm, an exhale of frustration over the day escaping. He should hang up the phone. Jack off and go to bed.
“I’m wearing underwear.”
His grip tightened, his cock now fully hard, sticking up and out of his hand. “Summer,” he groaned. He thought of her, stretched out in his bed, the covers kicked off, how she had looked in those tiny cotton panties. “And a tank top?” he asked.
“No.” she sighed out the response, hesitation in her next words. “I was hot.”
He pushed on the base of his dick, worried for an adolescent moment that he might nut right there. Was this actually happening? This conversation? This direction?
“I should go to bed,” she whispered out the sentence.
“No.” He closed his eyes and slid deeper in the chair, his feet spreading, his head falling back on the chair. “You shouldn’t.”
“This is wrong.”
“Summer.” The words were a painful distraction from the ache in his hand, and he slid his thumb over the head, a stream of pre-come leaking out, his eyes watching it. “My cock is rock hard, and all I can think of is you in my bed right now. Please don’t torture me by hanging up the phone.”
Her breath catching was the most beautiful sound in the world. “You’re thinking about me?”
“I’ve been thinking about you all day. I wish I were next to you. I wish you could reach over and feel me right now.”
“I’ve never done this, Cole. I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Just… touch yourself.” He closed his eyes and pushed against the floor, tightening his legs and working his hand up and down. “Have you ever touched yourself?”
“I’ve been single for three years,” she said tartly. “Bringing myself to orgasm is not a new thing.”
He laughed despite himself. “God, I’d love to fill up that smart mouth with my cock.”
“I wish… that morning…” He held his breath while he waited on her to complete the sentence.
“I wish you had done it. Had flipped me over and put your mouth on me.” There was the sound of sheets, and then her voice was clear again. “I’ve thought about that so much.”
Put your mouth on me. I’ve thought about that so much. Cole had been with countless women, Nadia one of the dirtiest talkers on the planet, but there was nothing as erotic as when this woman opened her mouth and spoke. Each shy admission was another bullet into the tissue paper of his self-control, and he cursed her name as his hips ground into the leather seat. “Tomorrow night,” he groaned, holding onto the chair with one hand while he jerked himself off with the other. “Stay at my house. The minute I get off that plane I will drive there, pin you down on my bed, and worship your pussy. I won’t stop until my mouth is imprinted on your mind and your taste is my fucking middle name.”
There was a small sound, a whimper that came from her mouth and found its way to his cock, and he yanked his hand away, gripping the chair’s arm and trying to stop, trying not to…
It didn’t stop. His cock twitched on its own, erect and fully upright, his come squirting once, twice, six fucking times before it settled down, his breath huffing out, the phone, held against his shoulder, falling down to his lap. His hands fumbled as he grabbed it, holding it back to his ear, gasping her name as the final shudders of his orgasm tingled through him.
His heart broke when he listened to her, her orgasm following so close behind his, her breath hard, his name soft, and he could picture her, twisting against the sheets, back arching, and he was almost hard again by the time she quieted, a long stretch of nothing on the phone line between them. He didn’t mind. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t consider what just happened and what it meant for everything else.
“Goodnight, Cole.” Her voice was quiet, and he needed a lifetime more of Summer to know what it meant—if this was post-orgasm sleepy Summer or weirded-out, awkward Summer or upset-about-to-cry Summer. He didn’t just need it. He wanted it. And that didn’t make sense.
He frowned into the phone and worked over the right thing to say, the right question to ask but the line clicked off and she was gone.
CHAPTER 75
His sheets smelled like him. I pushed the phone’s cradle over, to the far edge of the walnut side table, and considered lifting it back off the receiver. Letting the dial tone die and suffering through the beep beep beep madness until it ended. But that was a little egotistic, thinking he’d call back. And if I took the phone off the hook, then I’d never know if he did try to call back. I left the ticking time bomb on the edge of the table and rolled back into place, his sheets hot against my sweaty skin. Having orgasms did that to me. Amped up my personal temperature, the blood thrumming through my veins, making me hot—and not in the sexual sense, but in the literal, I-have-to-rip-off-these-clothes-before-I-die, sense.
I blinked up at the ceiling and sorted through my feelings. I already regretted what had just happened. I’ve been thinking about you all day. That was what he had said. He hadn’t meant it; it had been a tool in his belt—one he had used to perfection. I had taken that line and let it untie every loose knot of resistance. I rolled onto my stomach with an aggravated huff of air. So stupid of me. I didn’t need Cole to have an orgasm. I should have hung up with the first sign of flirtation and brought myself there without showing him my cards. Because that was what I’d done, right? Let him see how deeply, despite my hatred, he affected me? I skipped back through and tried to remember the things I had said in the weak moments of my surrender.
“I wish you had done it. Had flipped me over and put your mouth on me.”
Oh, right. That landmine. Why did I say that? And then… his response… had he actually meant that? That he wanted me to wait for him to arrive back in Quincy and he would… oh God. I covered my face with my hands, my legs twisting together in a wasted attempt at non-arousal.
I couldn’t do it. Absolutely not. That… that had been a mistake. One weak moment in the middle of the night. I would tell him that when he returned. But not at his house. On set, in a safe location, where there was no chance whatsoever that temptation might hit.
Yes. A plan. I burrowed my face into his pillow and—like a crazy stalker—inhaled deeply. I had lied to him on the phone; I didn’t try the downstairs bedroom first. I went in there, messed up the sheets a little bit, then scampered up the stairs, anxious to explore whatever secrets his bedroom might hold. I’d been disappointed. No secret love letters tucked under his mattress, no porn stacked by the DVD player. His clothes were neatly hung in the closet and folded in the drawers. It was almost boring. I had undressed and slid under his sheets, the dark gray set different than the Kirklands’, the material thick and expensive. I’d hugged one of his pillows to my chest and fallen asleep thinking of our kiss. Of the way he had tasted, of his fingers in my hair.
His smell. I could make potpourri out of it and become a millionaire.
CHAPTER 76
“Most of the successful people in Hollywood are failures as human beings.”
~ Marlon Brando
“Something’s different.” Justin tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair and tilted his head at Cole.
“Yeah, you look like a chemo patient,” Cole snapped, nodding to Justin’s head. “Couldn’t they have left you a little bit of hair to cover that ugly head?”
“No… not different with me.” Justin leaned forward. “With you.”
“My wife left me. I’ve been stuck in bumfuck Georgia. After you’re in Quincy a month, let’s see if you don’t look a little crazy.”
“I expected you to look crazy. Or be strung out on some sort of backwoods drug. But you look… good.” His brow furrowed like it was a bad thing.
“I’m not,” Cole said flatly. And he wasn’t. He’d jacked off twice that morning and was still horny, just thinking about his call with Summer. He should have just let her bring Cocky to her house. Maybe then he’d be able to eat eggs benedict without needing to adjust himself.
Justin eyed him. “I got to be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d survive out there without me.”
“Your job security has definitely taken a nose dive now that I have become more self-sufficient.” Cole waved off the waiter’s offer for more juice.
Justin looked at his watch—one that Cole had given him for Christmas. “All right, I’ve been patient for fifteen minutes.”
Cole looked up, mid-chew, his eyebrows furrowed in question.
Justin laughed and spread his hands, as if waiting for Cole to spill his soul.
Cole swallowed. “You’ve got to give me more than that.”
“Summer.”
One word that perfectly described her hot fucking deliciousness. “What about her?” He’d ask how Justin knew about her, but that was a waste of a question. In Hollywood, an assistant’s worth was primarily composed of three things: organization, ability to keep secrets, and ability to find out secrets. Justin had ninja skills in all three.
“How serious are you about her?”
“Serious?” Cole coughed out a strangled attempt at a laugh. “She’s my costar. I got Nadia’s team breathing down my neck, and that Rottweiler of an attorney you tied me to threatening my nuts in a jar if I so much as unzip my pants. The only thing I’m serious about is staying as far away from that country beauty queen as possible.”
Justin said nothing, sitting back in his chair and staring at him.
“Once,” Cole mumbled. “I fucked her once. It’s not happening again.”
“Is that why you’re calling for script changes every day? You know this business, Cole. Your production budget is climbing faster than Lindsay Lohan’s chance of a crack baby pregnancy.”
“I’m calling for script changes because they’re making the movie better. You’ll see when you come. The new scenes work, and they add a different element to the movie.”
“Porn. That’s the element you’re adding to the movie. This was a standard biopic. According to the crew, you two are all but fucking on camera.”
Cole scowled. “That’s bullshit. We’ve kissed on camera once.”
“Well, that’s what they’re telling me. And if they’re talking to me, you know they’re telling their families. The tabloids will be all over this shit within the week. I won’t be surprised if they get dailies and blast that shit primetime.”
“It’s on camera. I can bend her over and screw on screen if it’s for the movie. And there’s nothing that you or DeLuca or Nadia or the fucking Hollywood Reporter can say about it.” Cole pushed back his seat in irritation.
Justin’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck me. You in love with this girl?”
Cole threw up his hands. “Oh my God. That’s not what this is about. This is about the movie. This is about me not being bored off my ass in the middle of nowhere.”
“No.” Justin shook his head. “This is different. I’ve known you for thirteen years. Something’s off. You think it’s a rebound?”
Cole looked away. “It’s not a rebound. I wouldn’t do that to her.”
“To Summer? Or to Nadia?”
His eyes hardened. “Nadia can fuck herself.”
“So you’re not wanting to hook up with Summer because you’re worried about hurting her?” Justin looked to the ceiling and chuckled. “Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with my best friend?” He grinned at Cole. “Seriously. This is the same guy who was healing his pride with a pussy buffet, just… oh… seven, eight weeks ago?”
Cole sighed. “Let’s go. The mediation is soon.”
Justin stood, his eyes on Cole’s as he finished off his water. “Just talk to me. I know you’re not talking to anyone else.”
“Nothing to talk about.” Cole pulled out his wallet and peeled off a couple of bills. “It happened. It’s over. Everything else is about the movie.”
“If you say so.” Justin slapped him on the back as they moved around the table. “Now let’s go nail this bitch to the wall.”
Justin pulled back the private curtain, and they came face to face with pure fury in the form of a six-foot-two Italian.
Brad Fucking DeLuca.
CHAPTER 77
“Jesus…” Cole stepped back, the man glowering at them like he was ready to pull them apart.
“How did you get back here?” Justin snapped back the rest of the curtain, oblivious to their impending demise, and glared toward the restaurant. “We rented out the pool deck.”
“My wife just became best friends with the manager. And a thousand bucks got me a first class ticket to your cuddle session.” Justin started to speak, and DeLuca turned to him, holding up a hand. “Get the fuck out of my face and let me talk to my client alone.”
Justin blanched, his eyes moving to Cole, who nodded. “Stand outside and make sure no one comes around.” This was bad. He ticked through his conversation with Justin, his eyes closing in dread. There was the pull of curtains, and then they were alone.
“What I just did to get here any paparazzi could have done,” Brad spoke quietly, his eyes on Cole’s.
“Justin’s never gotten me in trouble. He cleared the place, I thought we were—”
“Sit down and shut up for a moment.” Brad pointed to a chair, and he fell into it.
“I can’t deal with your lectures this morning,” Cole said wearily, rubbing his eyes and wishing he had ordered a drink with breakfast instead of juice.
“Is your assistant correct?” Brad sat down, across from him, leaning forward in the chair, and the lowered stature caused the tight knot in Cole’s back to lessen a little. “If this is something else, then just tell me and we can attack it from a different side.”
“What?” Cole cracked open an eye and looked at Brad.
“I’ve been told to stay away from someone before. It made me chase her down like she was a wounded gazelle. Now, she ended up being my soulmate.” Brad sat back in his chair. “Chances are that this woman isn’t yours. But I’m not gonna fuel any sexual tension between the two of you by telling you to stay away from her.”
Cole tried to understand. “So… you’re telling me I can date her?”
“I’m telling you that I need to know what is going on so that I can control the media and—more importantly—the judge and Nadia’s take on it. I can’t do my job if you are keeping things from me.”
Cole sighed. “I don’t know what’s up with this girl.” He spread his hands. “That’s the truth of it. I don’t think she even likes me.”
“But you like her.”
Cole closed his eyes. “I don’t know. Yes, I like her as a person. She’s different than… well, any of the women around here.” And she was. She was tough and strong but also soft. Soft in all of the ways that pulled on his heart and his dick. “I like her as a person,” he repeated. “But I can’t see us together. It’d never work.”
She’d never want him. That was the truth of the matter. It wasn’t insecurity talking. He just wasn’t the type of man that she would go for. She’d laugh in his face if he ever tried. And the reality was, when you pushed all of the attraction and chemistry bullshit aside, he wasn’t at a place in his life where he could take that. Not right now. And definitely not from her.
“So that’s it?” Brad pushed. “You like her, but you guys aren’t compatible. How was the sex?”
“What?”
“How was the sex?” Brad repeated the question slowly and clearly. The man had no shame.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. It absolutely matters. I don’t want to know the placement of your dick; I just want to know if it was dreary or life-shattering.”
“It was great.” Cole looked away. “And disappointing.”
The big man waited, in no apparent rush to make their mediation on time. When Cole didn’t elaborate, he pushed. “Explain.”
“I’ll sound like a pussy.” Cole exhaled, regretting this path of honesty.
“It’s just you and me here. And I love pussy. Give it to me.”
Cole winced. “She was on her stomach. It felt disconnected.”
“Are you a typically a ‘make love’ type of guy?”
“No.” Cole rubbed his thighs and wished in that moment to be anywhere else. “I fuck.” And he did. That was the name of the Cole Masten Bedroom Show: Fucking. Even with Nadia, especially with Nadia. That was what they did. That was really all they ever did. Just another relationship realization a half-decade too late.
“So…” Brad mused. “You had sex with her, and it was great, but you wanted to have more of a connection with her. You like her, but blah-blah-blah you two are too different for it to work. Do you hear the giant holes in this?”
Cole met his eyes. “What do you want from me? Are you trying to convince me to date the girl?” He shook his head. “I’m a little confused over here.”
“I want you to be happy. I want to do my job so that you can move past this divorce and have a chance at normality.”
“Normality?” Cole laughed, raising his hands in exasperation. “I’m in a roped off room with my assistant standing bodyguard, in a town I don’t even fit into anymore, late to a conversation with my wife and her attorneys who—six fucking weeks ago were my attorneys—to discuss division of a life that I was pretty happy with. Normality in Hollywood is as twisted as our deals.”
“You live here, you work in the industry. You don’t have to be it.”
“Is this still about Summer? Or is this a fucking psych session about my life now?” Cole stood, his voice rising.
When Brad rose, squaring off against him, the dynamic changed. Cole stepped a pace back.
“Let’s go to mediation. Keep your mouth shut in there, and let me do my job. When you get back to Quincy, I want you to get your head straight about Summer. Either date, or befriend, or stay the fuck away from her. But you need to make a decision one way or the other because otherwise you’re going to drive her and yourself crazy and ruin the movie in the process.” Brad put sunglasses on and nodded to the door. “Let’s go.”
Cole waited like an obedient dog for Brad to pass, then he followed. When they stepped into the sun, he saw Justin. And beside him, her head tilted back in a laugh, was a strange brunette. He tensed, then saw Brad approach her, his hand wrapping around her waist. This must be the soulmate. So glad to know she was present to witness this train wreck.
“Julia,” Brad said. “This is—”
“Cole Masten,” she interrupted with a smile. “I’m aware. And I’m sorry for aiding my husband in his evil plot to destroy your breakfast.” She gripped DeLuca’s arm with affection, and Cole tersely nodded. The woman was obviously insane. Any woman who chose to spend a life with that man had a death wish. A vision of Summer on her porch flashed in his mind, how her eyes stuck to Brad, her warm smile at him, and Cole’s mood darkened further.
“Are we leaving?”
Brad shot him a warning look and kissed his wife, a kiss that lasted a breath too long, in Cole’s opinion. “There’s a driver up front in an S-Class. Do you want to use him, or would you prefer to drive?”
“I’ll use the driver. Get some shopping in while you boys work.” She hugged Justin, and Cole wondered, at what point in crazy time, she’d managed to break his shell. She turned to Cole, and he stiffened, not ready for a third pep talk this morning. “It was nice to meet you.” She stuck out a hand, and he breathed a sigh of relief, shaking her hand, his eyes catching the details. The rock on her finger. The tan skin, peeking out from a slouchy tee and capris. Her barely present makeup and long, natural hair. She released his hand, and he stopped himself from wondering if she’d be friends with Summer. This was ridiculous. The girl was stalking his thoughts.
His feet moved, following Brad and Justin to the front, a mini traffic jam caused by the crowd of hotel guests waiting in the lobby, their camera phones out. He swallowed. This place had only thirty suites, and every single resident must be there, on their toes, hands waving excitedly for his attention. He smiled, big and beautiful, his eyes dead behind his shades. Out front, steps away, his car. His retreat. He ducked into it, waiting for Justin, watching Brad step into an adjacent Mercedes, his wife taking an identical one. “You know where we’re going?” he growled to Justin, hitting the gas before the man’s door had safely shut.
“It was one mistake. I’ll have the manager fired. Don’t be an asshole about it.” Justin pointed to the outside lane. “Four lights down, take a right. It’ll be a block down.”
Cole’s tires squealed on their exit from the hotel, and it was the only sound until he pulled to a stop at their destination.
Either date, or befriend, or stay the fuck away from her. Those had been the options offered by DeLuca.
But how could he choose between three impossibilities?
