Breaking Hollywood
Page 5
He purses his lips in thought. “You know, Ava, you’re smarter than you look.”
Ava.
That’s the first time he’s said my name. It does something strange to me. It makes my heart beat a little faster, and my stomach flips.
“I think there was a compliment in there somewhere, Gabriel.”
His eyes warm, crinkling at the corners. “Call me Gabe.”
“Gabe, it is.”
His brown eyes seem to turn a shade darker, and all of a sudden, it starts to feel a hell of a lot warmer in here.
I look away. “So, Tate. Is he older or younger?”
“Younger.”
“How many years?”
“Five.”
“My brother’s four years older than me,” I tell him.
“You close?”
“Yeah, we talk on the phone all the time, but Jayce lives back home in New York. He’s a corporate lawyer, and he consults for a lot of big firms, so he travels quite a bit with work. I don’t get to see him as often as I’d like.”
The elevator reaches the fifth floor. Gabe slings his arm around my shoulders, and I put my arm around his back.
“You know”—I tip my head back to look at him—“that’s the longest we’ve had a conversation without arguing or hurling insults at each other.”
His eyes meet mine. “Felt really weird, right?”
“So weird.” I grin.
“Okay, as soon as we’re out of this elevator, we resume our normal bickering.”
“Definitely,” I agree.
The doors slide open, and we step out of the elevator.
Gabe
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
“God, that felt good,” I faux groan. “Did it feel good for you, Speedy?”
“So good,” she moans.
And the sound reverberates through my chest.
I wonder if that’s the sound she would make if my head was between her legs.
“But we made a deal, remember?” Her tiny finger pokes my chest. “No more calling me Speedy.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot.” Like hell I did. I just like calling her it.
It’s perfect for her. Not just for the fact that she drives like she’s trying to beat the land-speed record. She is the definition of a motormouth. She can talk at speeds I didn’t know were possible. I’ve seriously never heard anything like it. She doesn’t even stop to breathe. Run-on sentences actually exist in speech. She must have the lung capacity of a whale, which could come in handy for some serious deep-throating.
Yes, I want to fuck her.
Sure, she’s annoying as hell. But, when her mouth is shut—or, if I had my way, full of my cock—she’s incredibly fuckable.
A total babe.
I wanted to fuck her the moment I saw her. And I don’t mean today.
I remember her from the club. Of course I do.
You don’t forget a woman who looks like her.
She’s stunning. A mane of long brown hair, which is sadly tied back into a ponytail today. But, man, does it look soft as fuck. I want to pull that hair tie out and slip my hands into all that gorgeous hair, getting my fingers tangled up in it, while I fuck that tight body of hers and stare into those smoky-blue feline eyes, watching her lose control as she comes.
I would have made a move on her that night in the club, but before I even had the chance, she mentioned a boyfriend, so that was the end of that. And, even if she hadn’t had a boyfriend, she got totally trashed that night, and I never screw a drunk woman. I would have just waited until the morning when she was sober, and then I’d have banged her.
Of course I would have taken her home with me. Look at her; she’s fucking gorgeous.
But it didn’t happen.
And, since that night, I never thought of her.
Until, out of nowhere, there she was, leaving the studio building, tears running down her pretty face.
I had the urge to follow her and find out what or who had made her cry.
But I didn’t follow.
And then I saw her walk off down the street from where my car was parked.
So, I made the decision to go over to her car and knock on the window to check if she was okay, which is not like me at all. I don’t like it when women cry. It makes me uncomfortable, so I avoid crying women at all costs.
I’m kind of an asshole if you haven’t guessed.
But something drew me over to her, and I was just approaching her car when it suddenly moved, and she ran over my foot.
And that was when everything went to shit. And, after that, no way was I going to admit that I remembered her.
Admitting I remembered her would have meant that she had had an impact on me even if it was only a small one. She didn’t need to know. Knowing that would give her the upper hand, and when it comes to women, I need to be on top every time. Literally and figuratively.
“Well, that was your last chance, Gabe.” Her voice pulls me back. “Call me Speedy again, and you’ll see what happens.”
She’s so argumentative.
Seriously, I’m not used to women giving me shit like she does. They’re usually all, Yes, Gabe. Whatever you say, Gabe. Put it in whatever hole you want to, Gabe, no matter how I speak to them.
But not Speedy. She doesn’t take my shit. She’s quick-witted and feisty. Different. And, oddly, I like that about her.
It makes her even hotter.
“And what are you gonna do if I call you it again?” Of course, my tone is mocking. Gotta bait if I want to get a bite.
It’s like a game of verbal chess.
Waiting to see what barb she’ll say next, it’s entertaining as fuck. Has my heart beating faster and my dick getting harder. Who knew insults turned me on so much?
Her small body tenses under my arm. “Guess you’ll find out if you call me it again.” Her tone is edgy.
Oh, yes.
And, obviously, because I can’t help myself and I seem to have developed the mentality of a teenage boy when I’m around her, I say, “Bring it on, Speedy.”
She huffs this cute little growly sound that has me grinning from ear to ear.
“You’re an asshole.”
“Is that my punishment?” I mock. “Because I thought you had more in you than that, Speedy.”
“Ha! That wasn’t even close to payback, Hoppy.”
She scowls up at me, and I want to kiss it off her face.
“Gabriel! Oh my word! What have you done?”
We’re interrupted by Agnes, one of the nurses who works here with Tate. Out from behind the reception desk, she comes barreling toward me.
I love Agnes. She’s my favorite. She always showers me with affection and feeds me cookies when I’m here. And it’s not just because of who I am or because she wants on my cock. It’s because she genuinely likes me. And, also, she’s been married to the same guy for forty years, and her kids are older than me.
“She ran over me with her car and broke my foot.” I thumb in Speedy’s direction.
I hear her gasp, and I grin.
God, I’m a dick. And I love it.
“Why on earth did you do that?” Agnes frowns at Speedy.
“I-I…it wasn’t on purpose,” Speedy splutters to Agnes. “It was an accident.”
“I don’t know, Agnes. I think she did it on purpose,” I stage-whisper.
I glance at Speedy, and her face is all pinched and angry. She looks like she wants to murder me in my sleep.
Sexy as fuck.
“Never! No one would hurt you on purpose. You’re adorable.” Agnes takes my face in her hands and smushes my cheeks like I’m a little kid.
And I fucking love it. I’m an attention whore. What can I say?
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I give a dramatic sigh. “She must just be a really bad driver. Apparently, she didn’t see me, but it’s not like you could miss me. Right?”
I can feel the rage emanating from Speedy. It’s taking everything in me not to laugh.
“Of course! You’re unmissable, sweetheart. She must be a really bad driver.” Agnes cuts another dirty look to Speedy.
Then, she extracts me from Speedy, and I go willingly.
Agnes is built a lot sturdier than Speedy. I felt bad about putting my weight on Speedy, so I was bearing the brunt of it, even while my foot was in agony, but I don’t feel too bad about leaning on Agnes because I know she can take it.
Ava.
That’s the first time he’s said my name. It does something strange to me. It makes my heart beat a little faster, and my stomach flips.
“I think there was a compliment in there somewhere, Gabriel.”
His eyes warm, crinkling at the corners. “Call me Gabe.”
“Gabe, it is.”
His brown eyes seem to turn a shade darker, and all of a sudden, it starts to feel a hell of a lot warmer in here.
I look away. “So, Tate. Is he older or younger?”
“Younger.”
“How many years?”
“Five.”
“My brother’s four years older than me,” I tell him.
“You close?”
“Yeah, we talk on the phone all the time, but Jayce lives back home in New York. He’s a corporate lawyer, and he consults for a lot of big firms, so he travels quite a bit with work. I don’t get to see him as often as I’d like.”
The elevator reaches the fifth floor. Gabe slings his arm around my shoulders, and I put my arm around his back.
“You know”—I tip my head back to look at him—“that’s the longest we’ve had a conversation without arguing or hurling insults at each other.”
His eyes meet mine. “Felt really weird, right?”
“So weird.” I grin.
“Okay, as soon as we’re out of this elevator, we resume our normal bickering.”
“Definitely,” I agree.
The doors slide open, and we step out of the elevator.
Gabe
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
“God, that felt good,” I faux groan. “Did it feel good for you, Speedy?”
“So good,” she moans.
And the sound reverberates through my chest.
I wonder if that’s the sound she would make if my head was between her legs.
“But we made a deal, remember?” Her tiny finger pokes my chest. “No more calling me Speedy.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot.” Like hell I did. I just like calling her it.
It’s perfect for her. Not just for the fact that she drives like she’s trying to beat the land-speed record. She is the definition of a motormouth. She can talk at speeds I didn’t know were possible. I’ve seriously never heard anything like it. She doesn’t even stop to breathe. Run-on sentences actually exist in speech. She must have the lung capacity of a whale, which could come in handy for some serious deep-throating.
Yes, I want to fuck her.
Sure, she’s annoying as hell. But, when her mouth is shut—or, if I had my way, full of my cock—she’s incredibly fuckable.
A total babe.
I wanted to fuck her the moment I saw her. And I don’t mean today.
I remember her from the club. Of course I do.
You don’t forget a woman who looks like her.
She’s stunning. A mane of long brown hair, which is sadly tied back into a ponytail today. But, man, does it look soft as fuck. I want to pull that hair tie out and slip my hands into all that gorgeous hair, getting my fingers tangled up in it, while I fuck that tight body of hers and stare into those smoky-blue feline eyes, watching her lose control as she comes.
I would have made a move on her that night in the club, but before I even had the chance, she mentioned a boyfriend, so that was the end of that. And, even if she hadn’t had a boyfriend, she got totally trashed that night, and I never screw a drunk woman. I would have just waited until the morning when she was sober, and then I’d have banged her.
Of course I would have taken her home with me. Look at her; she’s fucking gorgeous.
But it didn’t happen.
And, since that night, I never thought of her.
Until, out of nowhere, there she was, leaving the studio building, tears running down her pretty face.
I had the urge to follow her and find out what or who had made her cry.
But I didn’t follow.
And then I saw her walk off down the street from where my car was parked.
So, I made the decision to go over to her car and knock on the window to check if she was okay, which is not like me at all. I don’t like it when women cry. It makes me uncomfortable, so I avoid crying women at all costs.
I’m kind of an asshole if you haven’t guessed.
But something drew me over to her, and I was just approaching her car when it suddenly moved, and she ran over my foot.
And that was when everything went to shit. And, after that, no way was I going to admit that I remembered her.
Admitting I remembered her would have meant that she had had an impact on me even if it was only a small one. She didn’t need to know. Knowing that would give her the upper hand, and when it comes to women, I need to be on top every time. Literally and figuratively.
“Well, that was your last chance, Gabe.” Her voice pulls me back. “Call me Speedy again, and you’ll see what happens.”
She’s so argumentative.
Seriously, I’m not used to women giving me shit like she does. They’re usually all, Yes, Gabe. Whatever you say, Gabe. Put it in whatever hole you want to, Gabe, no matter how I speak to them.
But not Speedy. She doesn’t take my shit. She’s quick-witted and feisty. Different. And, oddly, I like that about her.
It makes her even hotter.
“And what are you gonna do if I call you it again?” Of course, my tone is mocking. Gotta bait if I want to get a bite.
It’s like a game of verbal chess.
Waiting to see what barb she’ll say next, it’s entertaining as fuck. Has my heart beating faster and my dick getting harder. Who knew insults turned me on so much?
Her small body tenses under my arm. “Guess you’ll find out if you call me it again.” Her tone is edgy.
Oh, yes.
And, obviously, because I can’t help myself and I seem to have developed the mentality of a teenage boy when I’m around her, I say, “Bring it on, Speedy.”
She huffs this cute little growly sound that has me grinning from ear to ear.
“You’re an asshole.”
“Is that my punishment?” I mock. “Because I thought you had more in you than that, Speedy.”
“Ha! That wasn’t even close to payback, Hoppy.”
She scowls up at me, and I want to kiss it off her face.
“Gabriel! Oh my word! What have you done?”
We’re interrupted by Agnes, one of the nurses who works here with Tate. Out from behind the reception desk, she comes barreling toward me.
I love Agnes. She’s my favorite. She always showers me with affection and feeds me cookies when I’m here. And it’s not just because of who I am or because she wants on my cock. It’s because she genuinely likes me. And, also, she’s been married to the same guy for forty years, and her kids are older than me.
“She ran over me with her car and broke my foot.” I thumb in Speedy’s direction.
I hear her gasp, and I grin.
God, I’m a dick. And I love it.
“Why on earth did you do that?” Agnes frowns at Speedy.
“I-I…it wasn’t on purpose,” Speedy splutters to Agnes. “It was an accident.”
“I don’t know, Agnes. I think she did it on purpose,” I stage-whisper.
I glance at Speedy, and her face is all pinched and angry. She looks like she wants to murder me in my sleep.
Sexy as fuck.
“Never! No one would hurt you on purpose. You’re adorable.” Agnes takes my face in her hands and smushes my cheeks like I’m a little kid.
And I fucking love it. I’m an attention whore. What can I say?
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I give a dramatic sigh. “She must just be a really bad driver. Apparently, she didn’t see me, but it’s not like you could miss me. Right?”
I can feel the rage emanating from Speedy. It’s taking everything in me not to laugh.
“Of course! You’re unmissable, sweetheart. She must be a really bad driver.” Agnes cuts another dirty look to Speedy.
Then, she extracts me from Speedy, and I go willingly.
Agnes is built a lot sturdier than Speedy. I felt bad about putting my weight on Speedy, so I was bearing the brunt of it, even while my foot was in agony, but I don’t feel too bad about leaning on Agnes because I know she can take it.
