Hollywood Dirt
Page 81
Silence fell on the set, and he stared down at her. There were so few times when he could really stare at her. She often caught him when he did, as if she could feel the weight of it. But in this moment, on camera, he was allowed, and he drank his fill, his eyes dragging from the light brown of her eyebrows to the thick fur of her lashes. Her golden eyes flicked to his, and he said nothing, did nothing, just watched the minute jumping of her pupils, their twitch as they settled. He rested his weight on his knees and one hand, lifting the other to her face. She didn’t look, didn’t react, just stared at him. His fingers soft, he ran the tips of them across her cheekbones and down to her lips, a dark red lipstick on them, typical Ida and nothing like Summer. He suddenly wanted it gone, and opened his mouth, sticking his thumb in and closing his lips around it. Her eyes dropped and she watched as he dragged the digit out, his teeth scraping at the pad. When he gripped her face, his fingertips rough against her cheekbone, earlobe, and jaw, she tensed beneath him. When his wet finger smeared across her mouth, taking the red with it, she opened her lips, and a hard sigh fell from him when she caught his thumb in her teeth, her eyes on him, then sucked it, going deep and then slowly pulling off. His thumb felt a hundred sensations that his cock wanted and—in that moment—there was no one else in the room, everything disappearing but the two of them.
The minute his thumb left her mouth, he dropped down atop her, his hand gripping the back of her head, his mouth crashing onto hers, and he kissed her like he’d wanted to from the start, rough and wild, her tongue fighting back, their kisses missing their mouths as much as they hit them.
Cole grabbed her, rolling onto his back and putting her above him, his hand yanking the sheet down, pulling the clasp of her bra, and the piece was suddenly gone, and her breasts were tumbling free onto him, and he groaned, pulling her down, the soft weight of them against his chest so beautiful, so incredible that he lost his fucking mind. He bit her ear, wrapped his hand deep in her hair, and pulled it tight, his mouth going to her throat, and then he was back to her mouth, and her hands were covering her chest and he remembered the scene, the fucking scene, and rolled back over, shielding her from the camera, his mouth softening as he pulled the sheet back up, his whisper at her ear almost silent. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
She tugged on his hair and brought his mouth back to hers, and he didn’t apologize again.
What happened between them when they touched… it was nothing like Nadia and nothing like the blonde and nothing like every other woman he’d ever had.
And that difference scared the hell out of him.
CHAPTER 91
“This is bullshit! Learn your marks and stay on them!” Cole threw up his hands and glared at me, and sohelpmeGod if there weren’t a hundred people staring at us, I would have his nuts in a vice. A steel one. With teeth.
“You’ve moved the marks five times in the last two hours. Make up your mind and there won’t be a problem!” I pushed on his chest with both hands, and the damn man barely wobbled. This was what I got for neglecting my chores and spending my days prancing around a movie set. Cole stepped closer to me, and his voice dropped.
“Touch me again, and I’ll put you on your damn mark and hold you there.”
I stepped back. When he was that close, something in my body lost control. I thought it would fade. It hadn’t. We’d shot four scenes since our fake bedroom scene. None of them had been sexual in nature, yet I still wanted to hump this man like a dog in heat whenever we were in arms’ reach. It was getting ridiculous.
“Cole, Summer,” Don’s voice rang out. “Let’s take five. Summer, you’re looking a little shiny.” Makeup ran forward, a powder brush in hand, and I looked away from Cole and smiled a polite greeting. We were in the front room of the Frank plantation, lighting crews angled up the grand staircase, beaming a thousand watts of hot light down on us. Mary stuck a Tervis tumbler in front of me with iced tea. I took a sip, careful not to mess up my lipstick. We were on our nineteenth take, hours spent on a simple scene that should have been knocked out easily. Interesting that the quickest scenes we did were the ones that had heat. I didn’t know what that said about us.
When the front door swung open, it was lost, no one looking up, our mid-shooting break taking center stage. But when the door shut, the wind caused a suction, its slam a little too strong, and the sound caught my ears. I turned my head and there, in the doorway, stood a tall woman with white hair, blood-red lipstick, a pencil skirt, and sky-high heels. She was looking right at me, a cell phone to her ear, briefcase in hand, and my stomach twisted. Brecken’s boss. I knew who she was, had seen the senior publicist meet with Cole countless times, the clip of her heels always causing a scowl to come over his face. But this time, her steps effortless despite the heels, her face hard and stressed, I knew she wasn’t coming for Cole. I knew, this time, this was about me.
Don intercepted her, his hand held up, his headphones pulled off. “Casey, we’re filming. Not now.”
Cole waved his hand, frustrated, a growl in his throat. “Make it quick, Casey.”
“We’re rolling in two,” Don said, squaring off with Cole. “Whether you’re done or not.”
“I’m not here about Cole.” I think I was the only one who heard her perfectly modulated tones.
“Don, run through Summer’s marks with her; that’ll eat up another ten minutes, easy.” Cole’s jab was tossed out with a glance in my direction, to make sure I was listening. I wasn’t. I was pushing to my feet, off the folding chair, the makeup applicator chasing me down with a big fluffy brush. I knew I couldn’t run from this, a part of me, in the gut, had known since the day Ben mentioned this job, that this was a side effect.
The minute his thumb left her mouth, he dropped down atop her, his hand gripping the back of her head, his mouth crashing onto hers, and he kissed her like he’d wanted to from the start, rough and wild, her tongue fighting back, their kisses missing their mouths as much as they hit them.
Cole grabbed her, rolling onto his back and putting her above him, his hand yanking the sheet down, pulling the clasp of her bra, and the piece was suddenly gone, and her breasts were tumbling free onto him, and he groaned, pulling her down, the soft weight of them against his chest so beautiful, so incredible that he lost his fucking mind. He bit her ear, wrapped his hand deep in her hair, and pulled it tight, his mouth going to her throat, and then he was back to her mouth, and her hands were covering her chest and he remembered the scene, the fucking scene, and rolled back over, shielding her from the camera, his mouth softening as he pulled the sheet back up, his whisper at her ear almost silent. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
She tugged on his hair and brought his mouth back to hers, and he didn’t apologize again.
What happened between them when they touched… it was nothing like Nadia and nothing like the blonde and nothing like every other woman he’d ever had.
And that difference scared the hell out of him.
CHAPTER 91
“This is bullshit! Learn your marks and stay on them!” Cole threw up his hands and glared at me, and sohelpmeGod if there weren’t a hundred people staring at us, I would have his nuts in a vice. A steel one. With teeth.
“You’ve moved the marks five times in the last two hours. Make up your mind and there won’t be a problem!” I pushed on his chest with both hands, and the damn man barely wobbled. This was what I got for neglecting my chores and spending my days prancing around a movie set. Cole stepped closer to me, and his voice dropped.
“Touch me again, and I’ll put you on your damn mark and hold you there.”
I stepped back. When he was that close, something in my body lost control. I thought it would fade. It hadn’t. We’d shot four scenes since our fake bedroom scene. None of them had been sexual in nature, yet I still wanted to hump this man like a dog in heat whenever we were in arms’ reach. It was getting ridiculous.
“Cole, Summer,” Don’s voice rang out. “Let’s take five. Summer, you’re looking a little shiny.” Makeup ran forward, a powder brush in hand, and I looked away from Cole and smiled a polite greeting. We were in the front room of the Frank plantation, lighting crews angled up the grand staircase, beaming a thousand watts of hot light down on us. Mary stuck a Tervis tumbler in front of me with iced tea. I took a sip, careful not to mess up my lipstick. We were on our nineteenth take, hours spent on a simple scene that should have been knocked out easily. Interesting that the quickest scenes we did were the ones that had heat. I didn’t know what that said about us.
When the front door swung open, it was lost, no one looking up, our mid-shooting break taking center stage. But when the door shut, the wind caused a suction, its slam a little too strong, and the sound caught my ears. I turned my head and there, in the doorway, stood a tall woman with white hair, blood-red lipstick, a pencil skirt, and sky-high heels. She was looking right at me, a cell phone to her ear, briefcase in hand, and my stomach twisted. Brecken’s boss. I knew who she was, had seen the senior publicist meet with Cole countless times, the clip of her heels always causing a scowl to come over his face. But this time, her steps effortless despite the heels, her face hard and stressed, I knew she wasn’t coming for Cole. I knew, this time, this was about me.
Don intercepted her, his hand held up, his headphones pulled off. “Casey, we’re filming. Not now.”
Cole waved his hand, frustrated, a growl in his throat. “Make it quick, Casey.”
“We’re rolling in two,” Don said, squaring off with Cole. “Whether you’re done or not.”
“I’m not here about Cole.” I think I was the only one who heard her perfectly modulated tones.
“Don, run through Summer’s marks with her; that’ll eat up another ten minutes, easy.” Cole’s jab was tossed out with a glance in my direction, to make sure I was listening. I wasn’t. I was pushing to my feet, off the folding chair, the makeup applicator chasing me down with a big fluffy brush. I knew I couldn’t run from this, a part of me, in the gut, had known since the day Ben mentioned this job, that this was a side effect.
