Rapturous (8 page)

Flynn asked me to help train Leah to be Marlowe’s “Addie.” I know it’s a
huge compliment that Flynn and the other Quantum principals think I set the gold standard for Hollywood assistants, but today I can’t seem to muster my usual enthusiasm for my job.
 

In the thirty minutes it takes me to travel four miles to the office, I have myself convinced I can handle being in the same building with him today. I can pretend everything is fine, that I’m not shattered by his
callous disregard after life-altering sex. I want to call it lovemaking, but that’s not what it was for him. If he loved me, if he cared about me at all, he wouldn’t have left without saying good-bye. He wouldn’t have let more than a day go by without a word.

So screw him. Screw him every which way to next Tuesday. He can go fuck himself, because he is never going to get another chance to fuck
me if this is how he handles the aftermath. No wonder he can’t seem to maintain a relationship. He’s an emotionally stunted fucked-up disaster area, and I’m better off without him.

Having moved from devastated to furious in the time it takes me to get to work, I pull into the parking lot and into my space next to Hayden’s black Range Rover with the HAR license plate. Hayden Anthony Roth, named
after both his grandfathers, and I hate that I know that, because I hate him, and I don’t want to know every little thing there is to know about him.

I don’t want to know the details of his hideous childhood or remember the photos of him with every hot young actress to come through the Hollywood mill in the last ten years. I don’t want to think about him anymore. I’m done.

Grabbing my messenger
bag and purse, I head into the building and use the palm scanner to gain access to the elevator. During the ride to the fifth floor, I go over the plan for the day—act normal, pretend like nothing is wrong, smile and under no circumstances show him that you give the first shit about him. Got it. I can do that.

The elevator doors open and who do you think is standing at the reception desk, chatting
with our receptionist, Mackenzie, and laughing like he doesn't have the first care in the word? Yep, you guessed it, the man himself. And isn’t it just my luck that he’s wearing sexy faded jeans that hug his perfect ass, the same ass I clutched two nights ago as he slammed into me with that big—

Stop! You’re over him. You’re done with him and his big… thing.
 

“Morning,” I say cheerfully, keeping
my focus on Mackenzie as I manage to avoid looking at him at all—other than the ass shot, of course. I’d have to be dead not to notice that, and I’m done, not dead.
 

“Hey, Addie,” Mackenzie says. “I put a few calls through to your voice mail this morning already, and you’ve got two deliveries in your office.”

“Thank you.”

“Addie,” Hayden says, “could I have a minute?”

“Can’t right now,” I
say, breezing by him. “Got a conference call in five minutes that I’m not ready for.”

“Oh. Okay. Later, then.”

“Sure,” I say, though I’m thinking
when hell freezes over
. This might be a good time to mention that while Flynn is my boss and my number-one priority, in addition to what he pays me to be his beck-and-call girl, I also collect a salary from Quantum to assist the other principals as
needed. So
technically
Hayden is also one of my bosses. Technically, however, he can kiss my ass. I’ve got nothing to say to him, even if my nipples tingled at the sound of his gruff voice saying he wanted to talk to me.

Fuck. Him.

I go into my office and shut the door, hoping he and everyone else stays out and leaves me alone until I get my shit together. I wish I had a conference call to lose
myself in, but I have nothing on my calendar until the ten-o’clock foundation board meeting and I took care of everything for that on Friday. Damn my blasted efficiency.
 

It occurs to me then that he’ll be able to tell I’m not on the phone when the red light for my extension isn’t on. I pick up the phone and press the button for an outside line and then hit the mute button before placing the
receiver on my desktop. Whatever it takes to avoid him.
 

I dive into my email, which includes a long one from our publicist Liza, outlining the four million interview requests Flynn has received since winning the Oscar. He did several of the big ones yesterday, but there are many more who want him. I print a copy of the email to give to him when I see him so he can choose what he wants to do—and
what he doesn’t. There will be far more in the latter category, as he’s been burned by the media so many times that he’s extremely choosy about who he talks to.

I can’t say I blame him, especially after the recent feeding frenzy that erupted when Natalie’s painful past was sold to the highest bidder. Natalie’s father murdered the unscrupulous lawyer who sold her out to the media. I’m still trying
to get my head around that part of the story and how her father killed the lawyer for besmirching the man who attacked Natalie. Speaking of fucked up…

How she can be the generous, thoughtful, beautiful person she is after what she endured as a teen is admirable, to say the least. They are so blissfully happy together, despite what they both went through before they met. She’s absolutely perfect
for him, and their story gives me hope that someday I might find the man who’s perfect for me.

One thing I now know is that man will not be Hayden Roth. And I’m fine with that. A tingle of sensation between my legs takes me right back to the early hours of Monday when he was deep inside me as I writhed under him, seeking relief from the almost painful pleasure of his possession. And just that
quickly, I forget all about my plans to forget all about him.

Dropping my head into my hands, I focus on breathing, on thinking about anything other than
him
. I hate him. I love him. I want him. I hate him. I love him. I’m a hot fucking mess over him, and I hate
that
most of all. I don’t go crazy over men, and I never have. It isn’t like me to obsess over
one
of them when there’re so many to
choose from. So what is it about Hayden that makes me nuts?

Before Monday morning or since then? Before Monday, when I thought of him—far too often—it was always his eyes that got to me. One minute so icy blue and the next minute hot and passionate, and then just as quickly, wounded and fragile. You have to know him, really
know
him, to ever catch a glimpse of his wounded or fragile side, but
I’ve seen it. I know it’s in there while the rest of the world mostly sees the ice.
 

Since Monday, I’ve got a whole new set of images to add to my mental library, none of which will be helpful to my forget-he-exists campaign. As much as I loved it as it was happening, I wish with every fiber of my being that I never slept with him. This crush or obsession or whatever you want to call it was bad
enough before I knew what it was like to kiss him and touch him and…

A moan escapes from my tightly clenched jaw. I can almost feel the intense stretch and burn of him burrowing into me, ruthless and relentless and yet somehow tender at the same time. It had been earthy and erotic and dirty and sexy, and God help me, I want more of it. Maybe it would be enough to be his fuck buddy if it meant
getting down and dirty with him once in a while. Wouldn’t that be better than nothing?

No, it wouldn’t be better.
 

Someone knocks on the door, forcing me out of my increasingly desperate thoughts to remember I’m at work. Hoping it’s not Hayden, I say, “Come in.”

Mackenzie sticks her head in, notices the receiver sitting on my desk and then looks at me. “Flynn is wondering if you’re coming to
the board meeting.”

“Crap, is it already ten?”

“Ten after.”

“Ugh, tell him I’ll be right there.”

I begin gathering up the agendas and other items I printed at Natalie’s request on Friday and rush out of my office where I crash into someone in my haste.
Him
. Of course I crash into
him
, and my papers fly out of my hands, and it’s all I can do not to break down right in front of him. At least
I didn’t drop my laptop, too.

Squatting, I gather the papers, thankful that I stapled everything on Friday, so it isn’t a total disaster.

He squats next to me, helping.

I want to tell him not to bother, that I’ve got this, that I don’t need his help or anything else. Remember the part about him being one of my bosses? Yeah, that’s why I don’t say any of those things. Rather, I take the papers
he hands me without actually looking at him and mumble my thanks.

We both stand.

“Addie—”

“I’m late for a meeting.”
 

I brush by him, hating the way my body reacts to even that slight contact. I hate him. I hate myself. I hate walking into the conference room now twelve minutes late when I’m never late for anything—ever. That’s Hayden’s fault, too. Everything is his fault. I hate that Natalie,
Flynn, his parents, sisters and the other Hollywood heavy-hitters he recruited for the foundation board stop their conversation when I enter the room probably looking as frazzled as I feel.
 

I’m never going near him again.
 

And then he walks into the room, smiling as if he hasn’t a care in the world. “What’d I miss?”

I hate him.

Chapter 5

She won’t look at me. I know this because I haven’t taken my eyes off her since I came into the conference room to officially join the board of Flynn and Natalie’s foundation. I wasn’t going to attend the meeting until I saw an opportunity to be in the same room with Addie for an hour to gauge
what’s up with her.

She’s ignoring me. That’s what’s up with her.

And why does that bother me so much when it’s exactly what I want her to do? It’s what I
need
her to do. Except, the thought of losing my friend Addie is excruciating. Goddamn, I fucked this up so bad by having sex with her in the first place, then sneaking out and going silent on her afterward. I suck. I know I do. But better
she find out now that I’m no good than to let her think I’m someone I’m not.

 
Now she knows exactly who and what I am—someone who would fuck his friend and then go silent on her when I know she has feelings for me that go beyond friendship. I’ve known that for a long time. Hell, I have those feelings, too. I feel more for her than I have for any other woman. She’s amazing and smart and scary
efficient and beautiful and so fucking sexy she makes me drool—and that was before I had the sublime pleasure of seeing her naked and losing myself in her.

And the pleasure was sublime. It’s all I’ve thought about since the early hours of Monday when I took what I’ve wanted for so damned long. Though I keep thinking about what a heartless, selfish bastard I am for fucking her, I can’t forget
the way she took the lead, how she offered herself to me.

In addition to being a selfish bastard, I’m also no saint. When someone I’m painfully attracted to offers herself to me on a silver platter, I’m going to indulge like the glutton I am.
 

Staring at her now as she studiously avoids me, I remember every detail of what happened in her bedroom. I remember every sound and every touch. I remember
how tight and wet she was, how she struggled to take all of me and what it felt like when she came so hard she tested my legendary control. More than a day later, I can still taste her sweet flavor.