by Pamela Ann
“Then…”
“I was drunk, yes, but I made sure to double check if they broke and as far as I recall, they didn’t.”
“Unless…” she trailed off, thinking.
“Unless what?”
“She had sex with you when you were asleep.” Her eyes were questioning, but her mind was recalling the times she rode me while I was asleep.
“I would know, Emma. I hadn’t cared with you because it was you, but trust me when I tell you, I would know if she did.”
She was crying now, breaking me as I watched the pain in her eyes. “If it’s yours, what happens then?”
I was going to have a baby—my child, my own flesh and blood. The thought of it was terrifying and yet, I couldn’t somehow neglect the fact that if it were mine, I was more than okay with it. I had always wanted children, but I had wanted it to be with a woman I wanted to be with. However, life never pans out the way you pictured it to be. If this child was mine, then I would gladly take responsibility for it. “Then I would be a father to my child.”
Seeing the hurt and anguish cross Emma’s face made me realize what really was at stake here. I just got the woman who made my life worth living for and now I was back to where it all began, at the edge of the cliff, not knowing if she was going to stay this one out with me or not. “I want to be selfless here and say that if you can’t accept it, then I would have to let you go.” I swallowed my fears and faced the only purpose I had in life. “But I can’t. I’m a selfish man when it comes to you. Please, tell me you won’t leave me. The first time was awful. The second time was wretched. If you leave me for the third time, I won’t survive this one, Emma. I’m telling you now, I won’t survive it if you chose to leave again.”
She was shaking her head, kissing my chest, over my heart. “As long as your heart belongs to me, I never will leave you, Bass. I will love your child as my own because I love you.”
“I’m so sorry to put you through this after what we’ve just gone through. It seems that hell is adamant for me to pay for my sins.”
Emma clung on to me, solemn. “We can do this together, Bass.”
“Together, my love.”
I knew, with everything that I was and everything that I was going to be, it was never going to be me. It may seem rubbish and naïve of me to say that I was going to love Emma until I die, but it was the truth. There was nothing much more clear to me than what I felt for her.
Emma was holding her ground and I wanted to believe her, so fucking badly, but I knew once push came to shove, she might have to rethink her decision.
“Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is war; love is growing up.”
- James A. Baldwin
Torn Series:
1. Scornfully Yours (Emma) out now
2. Frayed (Trista) out now
3. Blasphemous (Emma #2)
4. Scorned (Lindsey) July 7 2013
5. Fixated on You (Emma #3) August 2013
6. Crushed (Amber) September 2013
Chasing Series:
Chasing Beautiful (out now)
Chasing Imperfection (out now)
Chasing Paradise (June 30)
Lily’s Mistake (out now)
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Much love,
Pamela Ann xo
UNDENIABLY YOURS
A TORN SERIES NOVELLA
Pamela Ann
Undeniably Yours
(A Torn Series Novella)
Pamela Ann
Copyright © 2013 by Pamela Ann
All rights reserved.
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.
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.
Interior book design by
Bob Houston eBook Formatting
ISBN: 978-14928198-5-1
“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 intertwined 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, everyth
ing 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; th
e 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.