“What?” He glances my way, reading my face. What does it show him? Doubt? Distrust?
I take a deep breath. “You don’t kiss like a sleazy lawyer.”
His lips twitch against his bland mask. “Maybe because I’m not a lawyer.”
“You’re not sleazy, either.”
His lips turn down at that. “Don’t, Hailey.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t turn me into a white knight. I’m not a good guy.”
“You used to be.”
“Not really.” He sighs. “Even the good guys do bad things for good reasons.”
“Like what?”
He laughs, rough and hollow. “That’s classified.”
“Just how much of a bad guy is my father?”
“Don’t go there.”
“That sounds vaguely like ‘Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.’”
“Well, your head is quite pretty. And I don’t want you to worry.”
I let out an exasperated groan. “It’s not like I’m going to say anything to him. I’m not—”
He sighs, interrupting me. His next words come out a weird mix of a command and a request, like he’s trying to be polite and failing. “Let it go.”
“You were in his office tonight.”
“That’s not letting it go.”
“You’re a lousy spy.”
This time his laugh is warmer. “I’m not a spy.”
“I bet that’s what all the spies say.”
“Probably.”
So Cole’s not just a Washington fixer. Maybe this is why they can charge so much money for “PR expertise”, because they’re all secretly spooks and assassins.
On the one hand, that’s ridiculous. But for a second, I think, oh God, I made out with an assassin.
I let him go down on me. And enjoyed it.
If given half a chance, I’d probably give this assassin a blowjob because I can’t stop thinking about how big his cock felt and what it might look like. Did he have a tattoo of a sniper rifle on it or something freaky like that.
The James Bond fantasies were piling up like crazy. I needed to put a lid on them, but Cole scaling a building…Cole in hand-to-hand combat…Cole jumping out of a plane…
“Jesus, Hailey, what part of our conversation put that look on your face?” Cole roughly jerks the vehicle around a corner and accelerates out of the turn. He slides his hand over my knee, tugging my legs apart.
“I don’t have a look on my face,” I whisper, but my cheeks are hot and my lips are wet, because I just licked them, and Cole’s staring at me like he’s remembering our conversation at the Kennedy Center. I know I am.
I lick them again.
“I’m not a good guy,” he repeats, rubbing his fingers up the inside of my thigh. A searing brand I readily accept, because his touch sparks me like nothing else ever has.
“I don’t think I care.” My words are breathy, desperate. I don’t sound like myself at all. I don’t care about that, either.
“You should.”
Another turn, another hot press of his fingers against my leg. Another brain cell gives up the fight. Ha. I’m not fighting this. I want this more than my next breath.
As soon as he parks in front of my apartment building and puts his SUV in park, before I even have my seat belt undone, his hands are in my hair and his mouth is all over mine.
“I’m not a spy, you silly girl. But it’s complicated,” he rasps as he pulls away from a long, slow, deep kiss that leaves me breathless and aching for more. “It doesn’t have anything to do with how much I want you. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I laugh. “Sure you will. Don’t lie to me to get in my pants.”
He strokes his thumb over my cheekbone, his gaze hard and piercing as he parses my words. A nervous, guilty weight tugs in my chest, because I’m asking him for something that’s so far outside my realm of experience, it’s possible that it’s just not done. Hey, dangerous man. Wanna use each other for the night?
But it never takes Cole long to read a situation, I’ve learned, even when the situation is made up and in my head.
He squeezes the back of my neck, harder than I expect. Harder than is polite.
It makes me moan, and his eyes go dark. “Fine. This isn’t going to end well. And it’s not your pants I want to get into, but your hot, tight, sweet-as-fuck pussy. I’ve had my fingers inside you. You clench so tight, beautiful. You’ve got such a hungry little cunt, it’s gorgeous. And it tastes like the best kind of sin. Is that what you want me to say?”
I don’t answer him. I don’t have to. He’s on top of me again, pressing me back against the passenger door, licking his way into my mouth. He’s still stroking my cheek with his thumb, and his fingers curled almost painfully around the nape of my neck. The combination is intense and I want more of that.
“Yes,” I gasp, pulling at his jacket. “Say it. Do it.”
“Dirty girl,” he mutters, rocking his other hand against my tights-covered clit. “Let’s get you inside, then. Inside and on your knees. You owe my cock a long, wet kiss.”
—ten—
Hailey
Cole keeps one hand on my hip or the small of my back all the way up to my apartment. He opened the front door for me, because of course he knows the code, but when he pulls out his keys, and I realize he has a key to my apartment, that I did not give him, I open my mouth to give him an earful.
Before I can get even a single word out, he’s kissing me, hot and hard. And I’m kissing him back, because he tastes like man and mint and power. But then I bite his lower lip, because invasion of privacy and principles.
The conflict annoys me. That he’s not kissing me anymore annoys me, and that he’s laughing at me, his eyes raking down my body like he’s already got me naked and spread wide for him…that annoys me, too. And turns me on.
“Cole!” I shove against his body. He doesn’t move, but he does take off his jacket. I’m a complete idiot. It’s like my panties just take themselves off as soon as Cole wanders past and whispers something filthy in my ear.
“Get naked, beautiful.” He grins at me, another wolfish look that melts my insides, and peels off his tie.
I take off my coat, then cross my arms in front of my body. “You just let yourself into my apartment.”
“Your ass was in my hand and your mouth is bruised from my kisses. I assumed I had your permission to enter.”
“You had permission to enter after I opened the door. And invited you in.”
“An invitation is for coffee or a fucking board game, Hailey. I have a key, I used it. It was the fastest way to get my cock inside you. Which, by the way, needs to happen now. On your knees.” His hands go to his belt, and my womb tugs. My fucking womb. What the hell.
I lift up a hand. “Hold on, I think we need to establish some boundaries. You can’t have a key to my apartment.”
“If you let me keep it, I’ll wake you up with my tongue between your legs.”
Yes please. I can feel myself get wet at the mere thought, and I press my legs together in weak resistance. “Do you know how crazy that sounds?”
“Fine.” He pulls his keys from his pocket, stalking toward me as he strips one from the silver ring. He tucks it into the pocket on my jean skirt, then hooks his fingers into my waistband and slams our bodies together. “You make me crazy. I don’t need a fucking key. I can pick your lock anytime I want a taste of your pussy, but tell me more about these boundaries you want to erect between us.”
He tips my head to the side and blazes a hot, wet trail with his mouth down my neck. His fingers go to work on the buttons of my shirt, and I can’t think clearly. I want his thumbs on my nipples and his thigh between my legs, and I don’t have to ask. As soon as he gets a few buttons open, he’s teasing me through the lace of my bra, working me like a fine guitar as he grinds me against the door we’ve just come through. We fit together like the most fucked-up puzzle pieces, but maybe that�
�s the point.
Maybe I’m fucked up, and Cole is just what I need to not feel so completely alone.
I wrap my arms around his neck and imagine for a second he might just take me right here. But I’m wearing tights, and boots, and there’s nothing sexy about a chubby girl peeling herself out of spandex and leather.
“Hey…” I sigh as his mouth makes its way past my collarbone, raising goosebumps across the sensitive skin of my chest. “I’m going to get more comfortable, hang on.”
“Is that girl code for give yourself time to talk yourself out of this?” Cole opens his mouth, covering my nipple through the bra, and only sort-of gently scrapes his teeth over my flesh.
“Promise it’s not,” I whisper.
He steps back and waves his hand as if to say, go do your thing.
I scurry to my bedroom and flip on the lamp, grateful for it’s attractive-making glow. Kicking off my boots and tights, I shove them and the small pile of laundry in the corner all into my closet. My bed is made, check, and I double check I’ve got a box of condoms in my bedside table. Wishful thinking finally pays off.
I stare at myself in the mirror on the back of my door. My hair is mussed up, my lips are swollen, and my shirt is hanging open. I’m a hot mess, but…it’s kind of sexy. I grin at myself, do up two buttons to try and make the most of my curves. I think about taking off the skirt, but it’s better that Cole not see the full extent of my thighs until after we’ve had sex.
Plus I’m cute.
You’re cute, I mouth at myself in the mirror.
The chubby chick stares back, not quite believing me.
You give Cole Parker a hard-on.
That works. She flashes the world’s biggest smile back at me.
Stepping back into the living room, I find Cole bent over my knitting basket. “What is it with you guys? Wilson had a million questions about my knitting when you made him babysit me that day.”
He shrugs as he turns, and I almost miss it.
Almost.
My blood runs cold. “Cole?”
“Come here.” His voice is rough. Distracting.
Almost. “What’s in your pocket?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me something about knitting.”
He stalks toward me, and I know he’s going to change the subject to sex.
“You can’t distract me with your tongue. Stop it.”
“I can, and I will.” He stops a few feet short and looks at me from head to toe and back up again. “Look at you. Jesus. It’s a fucking miracle I didn’t fuck you that first night.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls you bug.”
“It wasn’t a bug, and I really don’t.” He laughs. “Do you want me to tell you about all the women I fuck and how none of them get under my skin the way you do, in your jean skirt and white bra peeking out like that?”
“What was it then?” I’m ignoring the part where he says I get under his skin. I know all about that, the strange hold someone can have on a heart and soul and how unnerving it is.
“Nothing.”
I make a harsh buzzing noise. “Wrong answer.”
“When Wilson was here that day, you probably couldn’t stop talking about your knitting, right? I bet you curled up right there in front of the basket and talked his ear off about it for an hour.”
I flush. “He was asking me a million questions!”
“He probably panicked. Fucking amateur. I’ll kick his ass for that.” Cole pulls out something that looks like a webcam from his pocket. “He was looking for an opportunity to take this back.”
It’s official, I’m not getting laid tonight. I sigh, surprised I’m not more pissed. I mean, I’m plenty mad, but now it’s mostly frustrated disappointment. “Seriously, Cole? Get out.”
“I’m not hiding it from you.”
A hysterical edge takes hold of my laugh. “Oh my god, like that makes it okay. You bugged my apartment. You bugged my apartment? What the hell?”
“For your security.”
“You cut a key for yourself.”
“I gave it back.”
I dig in my pocket, and pull out…not my key. The silver shape is too long, and it’s got the wrong number of bumps. I glare at Cole, who just shrugs.
“Okay, so I didn’t give it back. But that’s the key to my apartment. In case you ever need it.”
He lied to me. He’s always going to lie to me. I want this man more than my next breath, but I can’t trust him. I stare at him, my vision growing dark around the edges.
“Hailey, you need to breathe.”
I suck in an angry draw of air, then let my words fly. “I don’t need it. I’ll never need it. That’s not my world! And I don’t know where you live! This is beyond fucked up.”
He starts to say something, but I storm past him. I don’t get very far. He grabs me by the waist and hauls me into his body, my back to his front. His arms around my waist. His mouth against my ear. “Beautiful. I’m not a good guy. Right? You know that. But I’m not going to hurt you. And someday, you might need me for more than this. No matter what, you can always come to me.”
I shake my head, not wanting to process what he’s saying. It’s crazy.
“If we met at a different time and place, I’d want you to teach me how to be good. Because you’re so good it makes me wish I had a heart. For you, I’d try to be an average man, with feelings and everything.”
But that’s not going to happen. He’s right. It doesn’t matter. All we have is the raging heat between us—and right now, hearing him promise shit I’ll never get, there’s an extra dose of rage in me. Luckily, we don’t need to like each other to satisfy our physical hunger.
“Shut up,” I say, struggling in his arms. “Shut up! Stop being so calm and distant.”
He grinds his erection into my ass at the same time as he slides his hand inside my shirt. “Does this feel distant? I’m here, Hailey. Bad idea and everything, I’m here to screw you because it’s what you need. I’m calm because I’m trained to not give a fuck. Sorry, babe, that’s just how I am.”
His words and his actions don’t match up. He’s holding on so tight, but touching me so gently. He might be trained not to give a fuck, but I’m not the only one who needs this. A tear slides between my eyelids, burning my face, and I shake my head. No. I’m not going to be sad. I’m going to be sexy and brave and selfish.
Because I want him, however I can get it. And maybe it’s for the best if he slides out of my life once tonight is over.
I wrench myself out of his arms and twist around, my fingers feverishly working at the buttons on my shirt. Undoing them, for him. For his hungry, dark gaze. For the way he stalks toward me, backing me into my bedroom.
He pulls a gun from a holster on the back of his dress pants and clunks it down on my bedside table. Then he strips off his own shirt, and I take in the sight of his big, broad chest. His rippling shoulder muscles, one covered in faded ink, the other decorated with more horrifying scar tissue. I gasp and fly to him, touching him there, and he mutters into my hair, something about shit I don’t need to worry about. God.
My breath is ragged and harsh as he kisses me, slowly stripping both of us of the rest of our clothes as we sink into a bittersweet exchange of unspoken wishes.
For everything to be different.
For this night to last forever.
For me to not be quite so painfully innocent, or Cole to be so brutally cold. Maybe we could meet in the middle if I wasn’t such a Pollyanna, or if he didn’t carry two—no, three guns. Jesus. I stare at the collection growing on my bedside table and wonder just what the hell he was armed for when he went to my parents’ estate.
With me.
He curves around my back, shoving my torso forward onto my bed.
“Such a princess, with a big tall bed like this,” he mutters, his hands skimming down the line of my back to my ass. “Just the right height for a bad man to bend you over and fuck you hard.”
“Do it,” I urge, pressing into his touch.
“Is that what you want, beautiful princess? For the bad man to just do what you say?” Cole trails his fingers lower as he taunts me, finding me wet and ready for him. “I don’t think so. And frankly? I don’t care.”
“What are you going to do?” I ask this breathlessly, because I’m game for anything. Anticipation skitters beneath my skin, heating me from the inside out. I arch my back, shamelessly presenting myself. “Are you gonna spank me, bad man?”
Cole groans and smooths a palm over my ass while the other hand still strokes my pussy ever so gently. “That’s a good idea.”
My breath slows, or maybe I hold it, as he nudges my legs further apart. He rocks against me, his own inhales not as steady and calm as I’m sure he’d like them to be. I like that. I raise up on my tiptoes, giving him more of me. I’m slippery now, sloppy even, and his fingers feel so good. I could probably come just like this, just from rocking myself against—
Nothing. He pulls his hand away, making a disapproving sound. That makes two of us, but my whimper turns to a strangled gasp as his fingers return in a whip-fast spank.
Against my fucking pussy.
“Ow!” I’m panting now, trying to catch my breath, but I can’t figure out why. It’s not like that hurt. It just…I grind back at him, and he does it again, making me groan and press my face into the bedspread. Jesus. I’m so close to coming, hard, and all he has to do is tap me once more…
So of course he doesn’t. Bastard. He flips me over like I’m a fucking waif, and climbs on top of me. “Is this what you want, Hailey? You want some dirty sex with someone you don’t have to look at ever again?”
“I’m pretty sure the fucked up track record of my family guarantees I’m going to have to see you again.”
He braces his arms on either side of my head and brushes some hair off my cheek. His eyes are dark, almost black in the dim light of my room, and a nerve is twitching in his cheek. Between us, his cock rests heavy on the soft of my belly. His thighs press my own open, and it wouldn’t take much to bring us together.
I stare up at him, my breath slowing. I want it, in a deep, aching kind of way. But now I’m scared again, because this is too much. Too intimate. I’ll want this over and over again, for the rest of my life. Cole, hard and big and on top of me.
Hate F*@k: The Complete Story Page 7
