He catches up Jason and Tag on what we know, and what the Vanity Fair reporter said to Hailey during the interview. My skin crawls at the thought of her and her sister processing this shit all alone right now.
“So shit’s about to hit the fan for Lively.”
“About to…or will in a few months…or maybe never. Who knows who he has in his pocket? Isn’t that why we’re on it, too? Because PRISM doesn’t trust that he’ll ever be prosecuted, and he can bring down too many big fish?” I shake my head at some of the names we’re protecting. “Seriously, you don’t want to send me to the Caribbean with Reid. I may just massacre the lot of them.”
Jason snorts. “Wouldn’t be the worst idea I’ve entertained, except for the whole global destabilization thing.”
“Hell of a side effect to justice.” Launching us into World War III is exactly what PRISM is trying to avoid. The true cost of that disgusts me, but I understand their mission. I don’t always understand the domino effect of things that they think they can see. Jason does, more than me. Instinct? Intuition? Sometimes I act on them, when I’m not thinking too hard. But I never trust my gut, not really.
I learned early on how emotional responses can lead people to devastating consequences.
It turned me into the hard-ass motherfucker I am today, and usually, I’m just fine with that. Not so much tonight. It feels like I’ve got razor blades under my skin and a fucking marching band of monkeys inside my chest.
Wilson points at Jason. “You need to get us some direction. Figure out what the puppet masters want us to do. Then we can decide who should do whatever it is that needs to be done.” Now he’s pointing at me. “You need to admit that you’re not just sleeping with the Reid girl.”
I shift uncomfortably and cross my arms. “I have no idea what I’m doing with Hailey.” God’s honest truth, right there. “I swear. I haven’t shared because…”
When I trail off, Tag clears his throat. “I get it. Shit gets complicated, it’s hard to talk about.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Seriously?” Jason shakes his head. “No. No relationships, no women, no falling in love. Cole here is proof positive that it makes men weak.”
“Distracted, maybe. Not weak.” Tag shrugs. “If someone threatened Kendra, I’d rip them apart, limb from limb.”
“You know she divorced your sorry ass, right?”
Another shrug. “We don’t live well together. Doesn’t mean she’s not important to me. Doesn’t mean I can’t still do my job while wanting to keep her safe.”
I want to ask Tag how to balance this shit out, still care about the job and care about the woman at the same time. Because I feel fucking tilted. Instead I nod. “Yeah. What he said.”
“He loves Kendra. Is that how you feel about Hailey Dashford Reid? Sweet, good girl daughter of the rich and famous, who has rejected everything your sexy ass in a tux represents?” Jason snorts. “You know there’s not a chance in hell of that working out, right?”
Is this love? If it is, I fucking hate it. It’s painful and uncomfortable, distracting and not nearly naked enough.
“Little early to call it anything. I care about her. More than I expected to, I’ll grant you that. You saw that coming, I guess.” I’d wanted her for months. Thought that if I had her, I could get her out of my system. Turns out I wasn’t the only one in the equation, and Hailey wanted more. Fuck me, I needed more. We both did. And do.
Two weeks might be my limit.
Jason just shakes his head. “It’s almost morning in Geneva. I’ll stay up and make some calls. What we need here is some cooling off time. Take the night, get your head on straight, and let’s discuss a game plan over breakfast tomorrow. Deal?”
We shake on it, and I go back to my office. At the other end of the hall, Jason closes his door without looking back at me. Beside him, Wilson leaves his door open, but flicks off his light. He’s about to fall deep into a pile of computer code and probably won’t sleep before breakfast.
Tag just shrugs at me, apparently his favorite gesture today, grabs his bag and hits the stairs.
I should leave, too. Instead, I log into my computer and pull up the video feed of Hailey’s apartment. We have cameras on the front entrance and her door. I choose the latter and hit rewind. Two hours back, I see Hailey and Alison leaving together. I immediately flip to the front door camera and time synch the feeds, to get a clue as to where they’re going, but Hailey just waits for a town car to pull up for Alison, hugs her goodbye, then heads back inside. I watch her climb the stairs, and if she just locked herself into her apartment, I’d have powered down and gone home.
Instead, she stops on the landing outside her apartment, her hand on the handle, and looks up at the camera.
The look on her face—tight, drawn, sad—destroys me.
And I head for the door.
—nine—
Hailey
It takes me a minute to realize why I’ve woken up. It was the creak of the front door that did it, or maybe the beep of the alarm system as he turned it off. I’m not sure, because my first fully conscious observation of the apartment is total silence.
What the hell just woke me up?
Then I hear footsteps.
He’s not trying to be quiet, not really. I have no doubt, if he wanted to be quiet, I wouldn’t know he was here until he was on top of me. I shiver against my will, hating how much that excites me.
“Get out.” I want him here, like crazy, but all of a sudden, the emotions of the last few weeks crash inside me and I’m angry at him. Pissed that it took him so long to come. That it’s in the middle of the night and I know he’ll be gone again before dawn.
Livid that we both need this to keep going.
He pauses in the doorway for a second before prowling closer. “I’m not here.”
“And yet obviously…” I sigh as he steps into the moonlight streaming through my window. God, he looks good. Rumpled. Tired. But hard as fuck and sizzling with energy. I want to touch him all over, absorb that intensity and sooth the raging beast inside him. My reaction isn’t selfless, though—not at all.
While we were apart, I could pretend I was getting over him. Now he’s here, and my chest hurts at how much I need him. Emotionally and physically. I press my thighs together, a futile effort against the instant ache he creates inside me.
“In the morning you can pretend this was just a dream. Or a nightmare.”
I shake my head. “Never that. But will this just torture us more? Because tomorrow you’ll be gone again, and we’ll start this cycle all over.”
His eyes glitter in the dark, his teeth flashing white as he grimaces. “Wilson told me about the interview. Is your sister okay? Are you okay?”
“Seriously? You break into my apartment to ask me if I’m fine?” I’m shaking with relief that he’s finally come to me, and angry that it took so long. And I’m still pushing him away. “I don’t know what kind of monster my father really is—I won’t be surprised if it turns out he’s the worst kind—but he never hurt us like that. Thank God.”
“I’m sorry anyway.”
“Why? It has nothing to do with me.” I prickle at the conversation. I don’t want to talk. I want to touch and hold and bite and cry from pleasure, but I don’t want to talk anymore.
“You found out some shitty fucking news today. That kind of thing can mess with your head.”
He would know, I’m sure. The last shitty news he got nearly landed him in jail. Which reminds me… “I’m not your problem anymore, Cole. Remember? I never was, not really.”
“You don’t think you’re my problem?” He slides out of his jacket and unbuttons his shirt. “You don’t get to decide that for me. You can push me away and tell yourself that I’m not your problem. That’s fine.” He strides toward me, and I’m so glad my drapes are open and we have a full moon tonight. Cole stripped down to just dress pants, his thick, muscled torso twisting in the moonlight is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. He c
limbs on top of me and shoves the blankets out of the way. “But you are mine. My problem, my concern, my fucking constant worry because I’m not good enough to be in your bed and at your side, keeping you safe.”
His words are heavy and sharp, and they land on me like that, but they don’t hurt. I can feel them, though, pointy and meaningful, and if I fight against them…that hurts. A part of me wants to relax, and let him slide closer. Slide inside me the way he’s said I’m deep in him already.
He’s already there. And it’s too much, so I’m in denial.
“This is crazy.” When he’s this close, I can’t remember all the reasons we shouldn’t be together. All I can feel is how right it is when he’s touching me. How perfect it will be when he thrusts himself inside me and claims me the only way I’ll let him. I’m wet. Ready. Swollen and aching and hot for him. Only him, spoiled for all others.
“No shit.” He rolls his face against mine, forehead to forehead, nose to nose…lips to lips. I whimper as he kisses me. I’ve missed him so much. Needed this so much. “Good crazy or bad crazy?”
“Don’t stop crazy,” I whisper, arching into his hands as they move over my body. He strips me out of the tiny sleep shorts and tank top I’m wearing. Was wearing, because now they’re on the floor, along with the rest of his clothes.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters after grazing his teeth over my bottom lip. “I should have called you. Tonight. Before. You deserve more than this.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not the princess you think I am. I won’t pretend I’m happy about all the rest, but this is…fine. I’d rather have you in the middle of the night than not at all. Even when I’m upset with you…I want you.”
“God, I’ve missed you, Hailey.” He kisses me so hard it hurts. I wrap my arms around his neck. I want more.
“Shut up and fuck me, okay?” It’s the wrong thing to say. It’s flippant and dirty, and he deserves to know I feel the same way. I missed you, too, I say in my head. But I when I open my mouth, no words come out. So I kiss him back, then bite his chin on my way to his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs under my tongue as I lick him there, savoring the taste of his skin. “I’m still on the pill. I’m such a good girl, I take it every day.”
“Jesus, I’m sorry about that.” But his cock flexes against my inner thigh. Gotcha.
“Really? You didn’t like being the only man who’s ever been bare inside me?” He tightens all around me, and I throb for him everywhere—heavy, sensitive breasts. Wet between the legs. Hungry mouth. But this isn’t quite right. “You don’t need to be sorry.” I drop my voice, dropping the act. Dropping everything, including the mask. “I missed you, too. So much.”
Another growl, and he surges over me. For a second I think he’s just going to drive his cock into me, and God knows I’m wet enough, but he just rocks above me on all fours, stretching out this moment like it’s made of bubble gum or something similarly nice and sweet and not at all the brittle, desperate desire threatening to crack inside me.
“You are not a good girl. You’re a goddamn vixen.” He rakes his gaze down my body, writhing beneath him, and exhales slowly. With intent. Like that little bit of honesty was enough, and now we can play again.
I shiver again, impatient for more. “Misrepresenting myself…that sounds punishment-worthy.”
He laughs and crawls back a few inches, dropping his face to my neck. His breath brushes against my skin. “Is that what you think I should do? I come to you because I need you, and I think you need me, and you want me to spank you again?”
“You didn’t really spank me the first time,” I say, panting, because yes, I want his hand print on my ass. I want that sting, that sharp bite that fades into the most delicious warmth. I only got a taste of it, and I want more. “Did you come here for something else?”
He skims his cheek over my collarbone and down my chest, inhaling deeply as he buries his face between my breasts. The scruff on his jaw tells me he hasn’t shaved in a few days, and I never want him to shave. I want everything about Cole to have this edge—sex with spanking, kisses with beard burn, and our words to never, ever have whatever softness is about to come out of his mouth.
Not just because I can’t handle it—although the last time we were together kind of proves I can’t. I’d fall for this man in a heartbeat. You’ve already fallen for him. Right. I’ve fallen for a man I can’t have except between the hours of one and four in the morning every few weeks. And I can barely hang on to being cool with that, but I need to. So he can’t be lovely. He just can’t. It’s not allowed.
Plus I like the bad boy thing. I didn’t know I wanted it until I wanted him, and maybe I only want it because it’s him.
But I don’t want him ever thinking that I want him to dial back the dirty.
“Cole?”
He looks up at me, his mouth wet and his eyes glazed, and my stomach drops. He doesn’t need to say anything, after all. A single look does it.
I shake my head. Please don’t make this heavy. I can’t say it out loud, because if he needs that, I’ll give it to him.
I’ll give him my heart even if it means tearing it out of my chest while it’s still beating.
He licks his lips and blinks, and the look is gone. “I had something else in mind for tonight,” he says, his voice all husky and sexy and not at all needy. Like he knows. “Something I’ve been thinking about since you leaned against my door and wiggled that gorgeous ass of yours at me.”
I don’t remember wiggling anything, and I tell him as much.
“Hmm.” He sucks one of my nipples into his mouth as he thinks about this, and it’s like an electric current straight to my clit. Oh God. He releases it with a wet pop. “It was something incredibly tempting, anyway.” He curves one hand under my body as he’s talking, cupping his hand over my ass, his fingertips teasing at the sensitive tissue in the middle. “Have you ever had anyone here, Hailey?”
I shake my head, my heart pounding a mile a minute.
“Too much?”
Is it obvious on my face? “No,” I squeak, because while it’s much more intense, more intimate, than anything I’ve experienced before, I don’t want him to stop.
I never want him to stop.
He hums against my sternum as he moves slowly down my body. “Is it okay if I touch you like this?”
“Yes.” Definitely yes. I squirm inside the warm, safe circle of his arms, but yeah, it felt good. Surprisingly good. Like I might kick him if he stopped.
“Don’t think about it. Just feel.”
Oh, I’m feeling. And reacting. My pussy clenches, demanding to be filled, or licked, or both. Yes, definitely both.
“This was worth me playing burglar, yes?”
That reminds me. “You’re lucky, you know. Another day or two and you’d have been out of luck.”
“Why?” He licks a lazy circle around my belly button, and my eyes roll back in my head.
This has to be why I share what I say next, because I’m not thinking clearly. He’s worked his way behind all my filters and censors and good girl nonsense, and now I’m going deep in the TMI zone. His finger is circling the inside of my ass cheeks, it’s his own damn fault. “My period’s due later this week. You really should schedule your break-ins in advance.” He bites my belly and I squeal. “You know,” I continue, more breathlessly this time. “To avoid inconveniences.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not so much of a jerk that I’d call that an inconvenience.” He clearly thinks the label applies in other ways. Maybe it does.
The sum total of what I know about Cole—really know, truly in my heart—is how right it feels when he’s between my legs. His hands, his head, his cock.
Right now, it’s his head, and I’m in heaven.
In the morning? Maybe hell. But it’ll be worth it.
With his free hand, he squeezes my inside thigh as he presses it up the bed, holding me wide open for his questing tongue. And fingers.
I whi
mper as his thumbs stokes over my perineum, sliding into the slippery wetness that proves I like exactly what he’s doing. And then he pulls that moisture back and—
“Oh!” This time it’s more of a gasp than a whimper as he uses my own arousal to ease his fingertip into my tight rear hole. Just the tip. Just enough to make it burn. The muscles there clench and relax on their own, blooming in arousal, and I wiggle—okay, now I’m wiggling, damn him.
“Yes,” he mutters, his gaze hooded and heavy, fixed on the spot where he’s just barely penetrating me. “That’s so fucking hot. You are unbelievable, Hailey. You’ll take anything I give you, won’t you?”
I nod and push against his finger, not even realizing I’m doing it, but as I press, I open for him, and his finger slides slowly into my body. Where nobody has ever been before. I’m going to die, and it’s not from embarrassment, because it feels too good. Intense. Almost painful. Burning, yes. But so damn good, I never want him to stop touching me there. I gasp again, that’s all I’m reduced to now, noises and mewling, as my hands grab at the bed beneath me.
He dips his head, dark spiky hair covering my view of his mouth as he begins going down on me, but I can feel it. All of it. The licks. The sucks. The swirls that make my legs tremble. He kisses every bit of my pussy, and with each sizzling contact, my world narrows to the push and pull of impending climax. I rock my hips under his face, and at first I try to hold on to the bed, to contain myself, but then I’m sliding my hands into his hair and it’s so much better.
Restraint is totally the wrong way to go when the man of your dreams is licking your pussy like it’s made of spun sugar.
And finger-fucking my ass. I can’t forget that. He won’t let me, because as he slowly twists me towards what feels like it’s going to be a heavy, layered orgasm, he’s still talking. Individual words like “tight” and “wet”, “sweet” and “hungry.”
Then his thumb takes over, sliding deep into my pussy before lazily rolling up and around my clit, a slow slide of thick flesh on lubricated skin. And that frees up his mouth for full-on sentences again, and I die and go to heaven, coming all over his hand as he presses his rough cheek against my thigh and tells me I’m beautiful. “You come so sweet, Hailey. Jesus, I need you.”
Hate F*@k: part two Page 6
