Exquisitely Hidden
Copyright © M. Jay Granberry, 2019
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both copyright owner and the above publisher of the book.
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Editor: Lauren Schmelz, www.writedivasediting.com
Proof Reading: www.writedivasediting.com
Cover Design: Najla Qambers, www.najlaqamberdesigns.com
Cover Photo: © Regina Wamba
Formatting: Champagne Book Design, Stacey Blake
Visit my website at www.authormjaygranberry.com
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Also by M. Jay Granberry
About This Book
Epigraph
Dedication
Prologue
Part 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Part Two
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Part Three
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Preview of Exquisitely Broken
Acknowledgements
Also by M. Jay Granberry
About the Author
A Sin City Tale Series
Available Now
EXQUISITELY BROKEN (A Sin City Tale Novel)
Ebook & Paperback
EXQUISITELY HIDDEN (A Sin City Tale Novel)
Coming Soon
EXQUISITELY YOURS (A Sin City Tale Novel)
He was everything I needed when I thought I had it all…
As front man for the band everyone’s eyes are on me.
I bask in the spotlight
Because it hides the flaws.
Everyone has secrets.
Mine will ruin everything I’ve built.
My career, my music, my life…
But keeping this secret?
It’s breaking my heart.
I knew how we would end before we started
And still I can’t resist him.
Not everyone will understand.
But I do.
It’s simple.
He’s the man I’m meant to love.
How long can I deny who I truly am?
Should I keep my secret or risk it all?
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
—Pablo Neruda
For the hidden lovers that found love in the light.
Adam
LAS VEGAS
I sink into the cushions of the chaise lounge as I eye the backyard. Trimmed hedges line the brick fence, and towering palm trees rest in the corners of the yard. Wicker patio furniture with bright blue cushions sits under the covered patio and, to round it off, the infinity pool overlooks the Las Vegas skyline.
Nestled in the Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area on the western edge of the valley, it’s perfect.
Sometimes, I have the urge to pinch myself because I still can’t believe this is my life.
The sun warms my skin, soaking into muscle and bone, relaxing me to the point of senselessness. I look over the top of my mirrored sunglasses as a big body breaks the surface of the water. Seth’s lithe form cuts through the water, smooth and deliberate. His last strokes shorten as he nears the side of the pool. Instead of turning for another lap, he places both palms on the edge of the pool and lifts himself out.
I can’t help but to stare. Even when I know his body as well as I know my own. I’ve caressed every sinewy inch, memorized every peak, kissed every valley, but I’m still in awe of all things Seth Cody.
He walks toward me, unblinking, chiseled jaw clenched, and I have to fight the urge to fidget under his gaze. He doesn’t stop walking until he’s right in front of me. Lowering, his solid body settles near my hip, and his soft, cool lips brush along the whiskers on my jaw in a slow tease before moving across my mouth.
“Seth,” I say in warning as I turn slightly, dislodging his lips from mine. Even the briefest touch of his lips against mine makes my blood rush through my veins and my body hum with the need for more.
More skin.
More touches.
More everything that after today will no longer be mine.
Seth leans into me. The beads of water glistening on his tanned skin roll forward to splatter on my chest and arms. His nimble fingers remove my sunglasses, and I stare into his sad, whiskey-colored eyes. His hands move into my hair as he angles my head, licking up the center of my lips, asking permission.
“Kiss me,” he says.
But I shouldn’t.
Last night we had spoken like two sensible adults, no yelling, no cursing, no tears. I made it clear I don’t do relationships. Even when every fiber of my being is begging me to reconsider. I let him know I have no intention of picking up the mantle and becoming a representation for gay men everywhere, let alone in the music industry. Regardless of the fact, when I look into his eyes, I see forever. I told him that being in Las Vegas, trying to get custody of my little sister, and being the leader and the glue for my band are more important than our fledgling relationship. Although the idea of never touching or kissing or simply being with him—really connecting as two human beings who can lust for and love one another—kills me.
I try to turn my head away from the sweetest temptation, but his hand in my hair hampers my half-hearted escape.
“You want me, Adam. I’m right here.” He nibbles on my bottom lip. “Right in front of you. Take me,” he pleads. This time when our lips meet, my heart whispers “one more time, please” and I let him in. He tastes like chlorine and summer, tangy with the bitterness of unrealized hope. I revel in the pressure of his mouth and the heady taste I get when his tongue finally breaks the barrier of my lips to twist with mine.
I ache for him. Always for him. Only for him.
I groan into his mouth and curl my hand around the back of his neck, pulling him into me. If this is the last time, I might as well make it count, right? That’s why he woke up in my bed, swam in my pool, and kissed me with a sad acquiescence. Letting him go is its o
wn kind of torture, and not allowing us these last couple of hours to say good-bye . . . ? My brain can’t even comprehend that, even if it’s asking for trouble.
I’m a glutton for this man. A greedy whore for his lust and desires. So, I take what he’s offering and plunder his mouth. I kiss him like it’s the last time because it is. I kiss him like he’s precious, and like I’ll miss him because he is, and I will. I own his mouth the way I want to own his body—deep and sweet with the sting of pain.
We part on a breath, and I look into those pretty, pretty brown eyes and, for the first time since I told him we were over, I regret it.
He deserves better than me.
He deserves a man who can love him out loud and in front of world. One he can build a life and a future with.
I chose my path at seventeen and claiming a man for my very own has never been part of the plan. I have the music and my band, my family. I always knew fame would demand its due. It’s the way this world works.
I trail my fingers across the thin, red material of his swim trunks. His shaft twitches under my touch and air hisses from his mouth at the contact. I smile because I love that his body is so expressive and reactive to the softest touch. I work my hands under the waistband of his shorts and pull them down his hips. I see nothing but unfettered inches of honey-kissed skin and a long, thick dick lined with veins tapered to a flared crown as I slide down the cushions. My lips brush across the sensitive skin of his ribs and the divots of his abs.
“Adam, it doesn’t have to end here. We . . . ahhhh—”
The words die on his lips as I open my mouth wide and moan around his length as it slides along my taste buds to the back of my throat. His hands cradle the back of my head, while his hips involuntarily roll with pleasure.
I suck him down until he launches forward, and my nose settles in the soft hair at the root of his dick. I suck him until the muscles in his thighs shake and his shaft becomes impossibly hard and pulses.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” he pants, twisting his hands in my hair, pulling to the point of pain, and pumping into my mouth with stilted, jagged thrusts of his hips.
Stop? Stopping isn’t an option. We’re too far gone, too lust-drunk and needy. There is no stopping. There is only us, and his body taking what he wants from mine.
Primal.
Possessive.
Abso-fucking-lute.
I’m not stopping until his essence floods my mouth, until the memory of me sucking him deep and taking him to the edge of ecstasy is scorched on his retinas.
“I’m almost there. Just a little . . .”
I grip him in a tight fist working in tandem with my mouth. His eyes never leave mine as he shudders and releases deep in my throat.
Seth pulls himself free with a groan and those pillow-soft lips immediately find mine. We kiss until our pulses slow and our breaths even out, until his lips on mine is little more than skin meeting skin. The quiet is somber. The ache of two breaking hearts replaces our shared passion with unspoken sadness.
When he pulls back, his eyes are glassy with unshed tears as he studies me.
“So, this is good-bye then?”
“This is good-bye,” I parrot with hard finality that leaves little room for what-ifs or maybes.
A couple of tears leak from the corners of his eyes, but he squeezes them shut, cutting off the flow.
“Aw, baby,” I say. I swipe my thumb over the ridge of his cheekbone. You’re breaking my fucking heart. He leans forward again, kissing me one last time before he stands. His movements are slow and methodical. There is a slight tremor to his hands when he pulls up his shorts. I see him start to morph into the ideal bodyguard—the elite soldier. His eyes lose their innate softness, and his jaw sets in an unforgiving hard line. He pulls in all that emotion and stuffs its somewhere far away from the surface. A little part of me hurts that I’ve caused this.
“Seth . . .” I say, guilt coating his name in my increasing misery.
I can’t do this.
I can’t let him go.
“Don’t,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “No explanation necessary. I understand. I do. Let’s just . . . Let’s just take it for what it is . . . I mean, was.” He won’t look at me as he speaks. When I sit up, naturally leaning toward him, I attempt to rest my hand on the back of his knee. It is an automatic gesture. He skirts my touch, immediately backing away. The rejection, however slight, however deserved, guts me.
“I gotta go. Sin gets in today. I have to get to the hotel and make sure everything is ready.” He continues to refuse my gaze as he steps into the house, slipping quietly through the door.
I drop back on the chaise lounge with a thud. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuuck! I punch my hands into the air and thump my head on the thick padding of the chaise. I’ve never been a romantic. That’s my best friend, Sin, not me. Dammit, just this once I wish I was. I wish I had it in me to give him an epic kind of love. The kind that fills the pages of a notebook and inspires hit songs.
Fifteen minutes later I catch a glimpse of Seth through the sliding glass doors. He’s dressed with a backpack slung over his broad shoulder, radio piece in his ear, and a gun clipped to his belt. Those gorgeous brown eyes are covered with dark sunglasses and those soft lips I kissed are pressed tight into a thin, stoic line. The sound of his boots beats a steady cadence on the wooden floor as he passes in the hallway.
I stand just outside the open door, my hands pressed on either side of the metal frame.
“Seth?” I whisper.
His footsteps pause halfway to the front door, but he doesn’t turn around.
“I’m . . .” Terrified that when you walk out that door, you’ll take a piece of me. A giant piece I’ll never get back.
“I’m sorry,” I say instead. His shoulders rise and fall with one big heaving breath before he continues toward the door. He doesn’t look at me or acknowledge my unbefitting apology.
I let my head hang heavy and the muscles between my shoulder blades pull tight. I can’t watch him walk out. Even though it’s the right thing—possibly the best thing—I can’t watch it. I won’t. My heart beats faster as his footsteps move away. I hold my breath when the door opens, and when it closes, I exhale a long-frustrated stream of moist air.
So, this is what a real good-bye feels like? Like someone just placed my heart in a blender and pulverized it.
Seth
I should’ve stayed in. If I had known when I decided not to reenlist in the Marine Corps I’d be spending the next five months sleeping on my mother’s couch—and applying for the most menial jobs when I used to lead men—I would’ve stayed at Camp Pendleton. Going on interviews, shuckin’ and jivin’ for people, and ultimately not getting the gig was the ultimate kick in the dick.
Vets get preferential treatment, they said. You can do the same job you were doing in the military with more pay and less bureaucracy, they said. I’m sure somewhere for some people that’s right.
I loosen the knot in my tie as I walk across the manicured lawn in front of the tiny ranch-style house my parents have called home for most of my life. Before I take the keys out of my pocket, the front door swings open and my mother comes out. She grabs me—all sixty inches of her—and hugs me with all the strength she can muster. Pushing me back, she looks me over as I do the same. She’s wearing a pastel blue tracksuit, and her long, dark hair is sprinkled grayer than I remember. Her deep olive skin is still wrinkle free, and her eyes are the exact replica of my own light brown ones. She smiles with relief in her features that only a mother will have—happy to have her baby back in her arms. Precious the vicious German shepherd, who looks more like a dire wolf, is at her side. The damn dog snarls at me as I sling an arm over my mother’s shoulder and place a kiss on her temple.
“Precious, don’t snarl at your brother,” my mother chides, taking a treat out of her pocket and tossing it up in the air for the dog to catch. Precious—she named a vicious German shepherd Precious. J
ust one of the many reasons I love my mother.
“How’d it go, sweetie?”
“I guess it went okay. At this point it’s a waiting game.” I shrug because what else is there to say?
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s okay to take some time off and concentrate on what it is you really want to do. Besides, me and your dad love having you home again.” She pulls me into another tight hug. One of those embraces that transcends muscle and bone, that goes soul deep, that only a mother can give. One that says everything is going to be all right.
Precious lets out a couple of high-pitched barks before growling again, and this time I growl back because I had her first and Precious needs to learn his place. “Seth Theodore Cody, did you just growl at my dog?”
“He growled at me first.”
A startled laugh escapes her mouth before she tries to give me a stern look.
“Be nice,” she says, wagging a finger at me.
“I will if he will.”
“You will if he . . .” She roots through the outside pocket on her ginormous purse and pulls out a pair of sunglasses. “You will be gone before my dog. Remember that, Seth.” She walks past me with the vicious canine at her side, his head held high like he’s the chosen one.
“Sure, Mom. Where you off to?”
“The dog park with Aunt Mari and then to PetSmart so the baby can get groomed.” She runs a hand through the dog’s thick fur. “Isn’t that right, Precious?” She scratches between the dog’s ears.
“See you when I get back, mijo. Te amo.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
Out of habit, I watch as my mom and Precious get in an older red SUV and pull out of the driveway before I go into the house.
“That dog would kill us both if he thought he’d get your mother all to himself,” my dad grumbles from the recliner situated in the corner of the living room.
“I have some buddies who can take care of that problem for us. Precious will disappear without a trace.”
Exquisitely Hidden: A Sin City Tale Page 1
