Hard & Fast (Rules to Break #1)

by Ana Gabriel

  “No you can’t. Trust me.”

  My cheeks blaze with heat. “I can clean this up. It’s my fault.”

  I reach for a shard of china but he grabs my wrist to stop me. I take in a sharp breath, my body igniting into flames at his touch.

  “You seem tense this morning,” Cole says. “Is something wrong?”

  There’s a teasing quality to his voice, and something else. A challenge. I can’t meet his eyes. I don’t trust myself. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

  “You sure?”

  I nod vehemently. He’s still holding my wrist. I finally risk a glance up. His eyes are an arresting shade of bright green specked with gold, rimmed with thick, dark lashes, and blazing into mine in a way that could only be called carnal. Warmth pools between my legs.

  “It’s going to burn,” I say.

  He smiles and releases me. I clamber to my feet and grab a new plate from the cupboard, piling the crepes into neat stacks. When Cole’s done cleaning the glass, he fixes himself a plate and takes a seat at the island. While he eats, I collect all the dirty dishes into a pile.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” he asks.

  I shake my head as I start stacking the dishwasher. There’s no way I’ll be able to choke down food the way my stomach is churning.

  “I’ll have something later. I need to get going. Unless you need me for something.”

  I look over my shoulder. He smirks, and I curse myself for the poor choice of words.

  “No, you’re free this morning,” he says.

  “Great!” I say brightly.

  “Where are you going?” he asks.

  It takes me a minute to realize what he’s asking, and then I don’t know what to say. The truth is, I hadn’t really thought about it—I just knew I needed to get away from here, be out of this damn house with its never-ending sexual tension—but now that I think about it, I’ll probably try to make the 11:30 acting class down at the V. I can’t bring myself to tell him this though. He’d think I was just another wannabe trying to get close to the acting world whatever way I can.

  I pause long enough that he chuckles. “What? It’s a secret?”

  “I just think . . . I think it’s a good idea to keep my personal life and my work life separate.”

  “Fair enough,” he says after a pause.

  I carefully add the last dish to the dishwasher and wipe my wet hands on my pants, careful to avoid his eyes. The eyes with the power to undo a girl’s best intentions.

  “I’ll see you later then. Enjoy your breakfast.”

  He waves goodbye with his toast.

  ~

  I’ve barely set foot inside the theatre when my phone buzzes. Cole’s name flashes across the screen. A jolt goes through me and I excuse myself from the class and scurry into the quiet hallway.

  “Hello?” I say.

  “Why are you out of breath?” Cole asks by way of hello.

  “I ran to get to the phone. You need me?”

  He pauses. “Yes. I need you to get my dry cleaning and bring it to set.”

  “Oh.”

  “Is that a problem?” he asks.

  Yes.

  “No,” I say. “When do you need it?”

  “Right now.”

  “Oh,” I say again. “Okay.”

  I send a longing glance at the theatre before I slip back outside to the parking lot.

  The Laundromat Cole uses is easy to find, but getting to the set is another story. Cole failed to mention to the set security that he has a new personal assistant, and I can’t get within twenty feet of the barricade around the Hollywood/Vine subway station where they’re shooting today. It takes twenty minutes of frantic phone calls before they finally let me inside.

  I’m escorted past crew trailers erected outside down into the bowels of the underground. Dozens of film crew with huge cameras and lighting equipment circle around a section of the subway station. A buzz goes through me. Despite living in L.A. for almost two years and trying out for every role I even remotely qualify for—and some that I don’t—I’ve only ever been on one film set. My breathing quickens. I long to be behind that camera. To be a part.

  And then I see him. Cole’s wearing a white tank top under a brown leather jacket and a pair of fitted dark jeans. His hair sticks up in all different directions and there’s dirt smeared on his stubbly cheeks. Each time I think he couldn’t get any sexier, he proves me wrong.

  He’s standing next to a woman with bright blond hair that falls down her back in loose waves, her perfect body fitted into a ripped tank top and cut off jean shorts that could double as underwear in a pinch. Then she turns and I recognize her: Kenzie Cruise, former model turned action star, and Cole Dean’s ex-girlfriend.

  “Quiet on the set,” someone yells. The chatter instantly dies down.

  “And action!” the director says, snapping the clapboard.

  Cole and Kenzie run onto the set, heaving for breath. The doors of the subway hiss open and Cole pulls her up short.

  “You need to get on,” Cole says.

  Kenzie shakes her head, tears pooling in her eyes. “I want to stay with you.”

  Cole takes her face in his hands and she looks up at him in desperate longing.

  “I’ll find you. I promise,” Cole says. Then he presses his lips to hers. A flash of jealousy rushes through me, and I look away.

  The director calls “Cut” and Cole and Kenzie break apart. He notices me and gives the universal hand signal for “one minute”. I nod and shift the dry cleaning to my other hand.

  One minute turns into ten. I find a seat and lay the dry cleaning carefully over my lap, then dig in my bag for the notebook I always carry with me. I’ve been writing the same screenplay for well over a year and I’m still not even halfway done. It would help if I could stop editing what I’ve already written and write new words.

  The director yells “Action!” again and the set quiets down as they film another take. My pen hovers on the page, but my attention is dragged up to Cole.

  Despite knowing him for ten plus years as Action Star Cole and for all of two days as Real Life Cole, it’s still weird seeing him work. He owns the camera, fills up every space with his big presence. It’s no wonder he’s a star. He has a quality about him that makes you unable to look away.

  Cole glances over at me. It’s so unexpected that I flush. The director yells, “Cut”, then marches onto the set. Terse words are exchanged, and I catch the phrase, “unfocused” before Cole’s storms off.

  The dry-cleaning lies limply in my lap.

  I don’t know what to do. I know I’m probably looking too far into it, but I get the uncomfortable feeling that I was the reason Cole was distracted. The least I can do is apologize.

  I trail upstairs after him into the sunlight and just catch him slip into one of the crew trailers. I hesitantly pad toward the trailer and listen outside the door. Finally, I rap on the door quietly. My heartbeat rushes in my ears. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. I should have left him alone.

  The door swings open and Cole is there.

  “I’m sorry,” I start to apologize, but he grabs my hand and yanks me inside, slamming the door behind us. He pushes me up against the wall, caging me in with his muscled arms. A thrill shoots through me, and my lips part in shock. Cole’s eyes flick down to my mouth, and for just one second, he hesitates. I should say no. Push him away. It would be the responsible thing to do. But who the fuck am I kidding.

  Do it, I plead with my eyes.

  Then Cole’s lips find mine. Everything inside me—all of my denial, all of the pent up tension—explodes at his touch. I shiver violently, and Cole makes a sound at the back of his throat, pressing into me so hard that it’s impossible to tell where he ends and I begin. I run my hands over his thick arms and brawny back, curl my fingers into his hair—I want to feel every inch of this man, do every single thing to him that I fantasized about last night.

  Cole’s hands are everywhere, big and hot and
masculine. Sliding over my breasts, down my ribs, cupping my ass and driving my hips into his hard cock, which is strained against his jeans. To my horror, I let out a groan. He grins against my lips and breaks away, his mouth moving to my throat. I tip my head back to give him better access, my pulse hammering in my neck.

  His mouth moves down to my collarbone and starbursts of pleasure ripple through me, my body spiralling out of control. He caresses my breasts through the thin material of my blouse, then, without warning, he rips it open. I gasp as the material breaks wide, exposing my chest, heaving in a black and pink lace bra. He studies me. That same dark hunger I saw in his face the first day in his room is back as he traces the lace delicately. Then he snags the material down with one finger, revealing my breast. I should feel shy. But I don’t. I want Cole to see all of me.

  I’m breathing fast as he takes my hard nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, his stubble grating my breast so that hot liquid pleasure shoots into my belly. His fingers tease the edge of my skirt. I want him to touch me so badly that I guide his hand down to slide over my panties.

  “You’re so wet,” he growls. His low, throaty voice makes my body tremble. He pulls the damp material aside and circles his fingertips slowly over my clit until I’m on fire with need, my body a violin string stretched tight and ready to sing. The whole time, he watches my face for my reaction, his breaths coming harder and faster and a dark grin turning up his lips. God, his lips are sexy. Sensual. Without thinking it through, I lean forward and take his bottom lip between my teeth, sucking it into my mouth. His eyes flutter closed in pure bliss.

  “Fuck me,” I whisper harshly, knowing exactly what the words will do to him.

  He growls, and I reach between us and unzip his pants, pulling them down around his hips until he’s hard and pulsing in my grip. A thrill goes through me. I’m doing this, I think. I’m making this man feel this way. I rub his erection against my wetness and he groans painfully.

  “Fuck, wait.”

  He reaches into the pocket of his pants and pulls out a package, ripping it apart with his teeth. He slides the condom on, and I dig my fingers into his hips, urging him to hurry, please hurry.

  He yanks my panties aside and shoves inside me in one fluid motion. I cry out with relief as he fills me with his shockingly hard cock.

  “You like that?” The rumble of his voice against my neck sends electricity racing through me. I tremble, but instead of fucking me harder, he drives into me with achingly slow thrusts until I’m begging him, please, as his fingers and mouth tease, grope, search and that aching pressure builds and builds. He keeps his eyes open as he fucks me, and I don’t think anything has ever been so erotic, so sexy, and I’m climbing, climbing, soaring.

  Someone bangs on the door, and I jump. My eyes meet Cole’s. His jaw tenses and he clears his throat.

  “What?” he calls, his voice tight and strained.

  A flustered female responds, “Alan really would like you to return to the set.”

  “I’m busy right now,” he answers.

  I cling to Cole, practically vibrating as I fight the urge to grind myself into his cock to finish the job. My legs are shaky and unstable beneath me, and I know that if it weren’t for him pressing me into the door, I wouldn’t be able to stand.

  “He’s really insistent that you come back,” the woman says nervously.

  Cole squeezes his eyes shut as if in physical pain. He groans. “Fine. Give me a minute.”

  He pulls out of me and yanks his pants up over his dick with the condom still on, then retreats to a bathroom. I shiver against the sudden cold and wrap my ruined shirt around myself, my groin still pulsing with need.

  Cole’s out of the bathroom a moment later. “Sorry,” he says. “I’ll get you a new shirt.”

  “It’s fine,” I mutter, still stunned at what just happened.

  “You can find a T-shirt to wear home.”

  I nod.

  He gestures at the door, and I realize he needs to pass. I stumble aside, and then he’s gone.

  I heave for breath, goosebumps flashing over my damp skin as my body cools. What just happened?

  Minutes pass and I still don’t move.

  I think I made a big mistake.

  My phone buzzes, and I fumble in my purse to retrieve it: Cole. Hope flutters in my heart like the wings of a caged bird.

  Please make dinner arrangements for two for tonight.

  I smile.

  Then another text comes through.

  And tell my mother I’ll pick her up at six instead of six-thirty.

  Chapter Four

  I’m standing in the living room when Cole gets back to his house three hours later. I’ve been sitting, standing, pacing, waiting since I crept out of that trailer, hiding behind my hair and praying nobody would notice I came out wearing a different top than the one I went in with.

  I’ve picked up my phone thirty different times to call Kate, but I just can’t tell her what I’ve done since I moved in to Cole’s house. She might not even believe me—I can barely believe myself.

  As soon as I got back, I threw all my clothes in the wash and showered. Not because I didn’t like smelling like Cole and sex, but because I liked it a dangerous amount.

  It will never happen again. Never.

  And then came the utter humiliation of being reduced to staff two second later. This isn’t me. I’ve never had sex with someone I only met two days ago. I’ve never had sex with someone I wasn’t dating. And I’ve certainly never had sex like that. I rip my thoughts away from the animal look in his eyes and focus as Cole’s key turns in the door.

  Heat burns up and, to my horror, down, as he steps in and throws his keys on a side table. “Rose,” he says, in a slightly surprised way, like he wasn’t expecting his assistant to be waiting for him. “Problem with the reservations?”

  I swallow, completely mortified all over again. “No,” I say, running my sweating hands down the pants I chose. They’re too hot for this weather, but I felt like I needed them.

  “Can we . . . talk?”

  Cole’s mouth pulls up at the corner. “Sounds ominous. Should I sit down?”

  No, but I probably should. My legs don’t feel like they’ll hold me up at all. I move so the black leather sofa is between me and Cole, who’s come into the room now and seems to be sucking all the air out of it.

  “Look,” I blurt, before my heart starts banging any harder and I pass out. “About what happened back there. That was so totally out of character for me that I don’t even know where to start and I just . . . I just wanted to tell you that. You’re my employer, and—” I lose my train of thought. Cole’s head is tilted down a little, but his green eyes are boring into me and even though I’m ridiculously hot in the outfit I put on, a shiver goes through me. “It won’t happen again,” I finish, lamely. Then I stand there, uncomfortable and hyperaware of him at the same time.

  He doesn’t say anything, and as the seconds tick by, I start feeling annoyed. I smother it. I’m not about to let him see that he winds me up in all the ways I can be wound up. No, I shouldn’t have done what I did, but neither should he. Clearly it’s nothing to him to have sex with any female that crosses his path, but I’m better than that.

  “It won’t happen again,” I repeat, this time sounding firm and looking right at him.

  He’s studying me with an unreadable look. Then his gaze drops down my body and back up again. “Fine,” he finally says, as if I just asked if he wanted pizza. I don’t know how it makes me feel.

  He throws himself down on one of the sofas. “I have to ask you, though, why is it such a huge deal? It’s just sex, Rose.”

  Just hearing him say the word sends a hot flash through me. But I come to sit on the sofa opposite. He doesn’t work the same way I do. The way he sent those texts barely a minute after he said “God, I want you” is proof of that and I shouldn’t have been so naïve. I never usually am. If I make him understand, we can get p
ast this.

  “Look, my parent’s run a hardware store in a little town in Illinois. They didn’t raise me to do things I haven’t thought through properly. They didn’t work hard all my life so I could just compromise all my principles now.”

  Cole leans forward, his forearms resting on his knees, dark hair falling forward. “And enjoying yourself is against your principles?”

  “No, and that’s not what I said.” My blouse is getting damp on my back. Damn, he’s like a magnet and my body’s threatening to let him pull me right in. “Having sex with my boss is against my principles and I don’t want you to think it means I want or need anything from you. Except a job.”

  “Why would I think that? You haven’t asked me for anything.” He smiles, and it looks innocent, but I’ve seen the wolf just underneath more than once now. But then he leans back abruptly and laces his fingers behind his head. “Did you work in the hardware store too?”

  “What? I—Well, yes. Every summer and after school too most days.”

  “But not now,” he says. “Now you’re in L.A. And they have someone else working in the store. Sister? Brother?”

  I shake my head. The truth is I don’t know who they have working there instead of me, or even if they have anyone at all. My phone calls home have been infrequent and what you might call strained since I announced my plans and packed my bags.

  Cole’s expression is thoughtful. Turns out his gaze can do more than set me on fire, because right now, it seems to be trying to read me. “You had some papers with you on set today. Something you were working on, and I don’t think it was for me. What was it?”

  My back stiffens. The screenplay. My screenplay. “I’ve been available 24/7 haven’t I? Done everything you asked? It was nothing. And it certainly won’t get in the way of me working for you.”

  Cole holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not expecting you to share your every secret with me. Just asking, that’s all.”

  God, I can’t react to anything this man does appropriately. I just wanted to keep my acting and writing work separate from this job with Cole. And this is why what happened in that trailer can’t happen again. I’m very definitely not looking at the way his muscles flex when he puts his hands back behind his head.