Exquisitely Hidden: A Sin City Tale

by M. Jay Granberry

  The two men have a conversation, heads bowed close together, nodding as they come to some understanding. Rivaldo’s man looks over Aiden’s shoulder, making eye contact with his boss, giving a terse nod. The exchange is so brief that had I not been laser focused on Aiden, I would’ve missed it. Rivaldo leans down and whispers into Sin’s ear, his body never losing rhythm. The couple finish the song before they make their way off the dance floor, smiles wide, bodies touching.

  Sin leaves her friend at the edge of the dance floor, but his eyes greedily shift down her body as she skips over to me, draping her arm over my shoulder. “You had fun, right?”

  I nod. “I give it to you, superstar, your version of bowling is not at all what I expected. Much better.” If it’s at all possible, her smile gets even bigger and those dimples go even deeper. “We’re gonna get out of here. Riva knows an after-hours spot. Wanna come?”

  “I’m good. Third wheel is not really my style.” I lean back, stretching my arms over my head and arching my back, cracking the vertebrae. “I think I’ll just head back to the hotel. You have fun though.”

  Her laugh pulls an answering smile to my lips. “It’s not like that. At the end of the night we’ll go our separate ways. There might be a kiss or two or three, but it ends there. He likes the chase and, maybe, one of these days I’ll let him catch me. He just . . . he reminds me of a guy I used to know.” Her smile dims, but she shakes it off.

  “Night. I’ll see you in the morning, right?”

  “Right. Have a good time out there, and don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”

  She nods, dropping a kiss on my cheek. “What wouldn’t you do, Seth? Just checking my parameters.”

  “Conversation for another day.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  “Bet,” I say with a wink.

  Sin rejoins Rivaldo and the two of them make their way out of the bowling alley, Rivaldo’s bodyguard out front and Aiden bringing up the rear.

  I settle in at the bar and order a couple of drinks, comfortable sitting by myself enjoying the atmosphere.

  The DJ switches up the music, moving from insistent repetitive techno to the smooth blend of R & B and hip-hop. Drake and Rihanna’s “Take Care” beats loud and strong through the speakers. I’m not a dancer, but even I start to sway in my seat. I let the music drown out my thoughts. I’m adrift, somewhere on the edge of consciousness, lost between the beat and the pending intoxication of a couple of shots and the beer I’m nursing, when I feel him. Recognition creeps down my spine, and when I turn my head seeking out the source, I see him. At the other end of the bar, leaning forward on elbows, fingers laced in front of his face, is Adam. His blue eyes trained on my face. For the first time since we met, I have no problem sifting through the emotion coursing under the surface.

  Our mutual attraction is definitely there, but the confusion and indecision I normally see in his crystal-clear gaze is gone. I don’t know if it’s because we’re alone and away from people who would know damn well this isn’t a game we should start, let alone finish, or if it’s just time. Whatever his reason, tonight all those fractured what-ifs have been replaced with what I clearly read as desire, and longing, and fuck . . . I’m definitely seeing an invitation. What is also clear is that he wants me to come to him.

  Before I have a chance to overthink it, I’m on my feet making my way to his end of the bar. I settle in the seat next to him just in time to watch his Adam’s apple bob as he tosses back a shot. I don’t know what he’s drinking, but the movement is precise, sexy. It’s the beginning of an age-old seduction that has played out in a thousand other bars, between a million other people, so far removed from this place and time, yet somehow still a relevant blueprint for how this night will play out.

  Adam swipes a thumb over his full bottom lip, rubbing a lingering drop of alcohol into his skin. His eyes are a little glassy from his drinks, but he’s not drunk. I watch rapt, unable to hide my interest. Not that I was doing all that well before, but now when he seems open to the possibility of me, I can’t force my eyes away from the picture he presents. The loose Blink-182 T-shirt clinging to his broad shoulders and the five-o’clock shadow covering his jaw. I let my eyes brush over his impossibly high cheekbones—strong and clearly defined—and the radiant blond hair that’s a close second only to the vitality of his golden skin.

  This moment is pregnant with potential and silence that I finally can’t stand.

  “Adam.” I say his name low and reverent.

  “I don’t typically do this,” he says in a rush of air.

  My gaze fastens to his. I can tell he’s nervous when both of his hands comb through his hair, securing the strands on top of his head with a rubber from around his wrist; it’s his tell.

  “This being . . . ?”

  “You know, picking up a guy. Someone I actually know. It’s hard for me.” He stops his gaze, searching inward even with his eyes on mine. “Because . . . Sin knows, but the others don’t, not really. Not that they don’t know I prefer . . . that I . . . It’s just easier to have no strings.” His words grind to a frustrated halt, but he doesn’t look away or hide, which is definitely a win in my book.

  From his broken explanation I got four things: One—he’s not out, which is a big fucking deal. Whether he’s gay or bi or anywhere on the rainbow spectrum, he can’t say the word and dating or fucking a man who can’t look you, or himself, in the eye after the deed is done is a bright red flag. A robot with flailing arms screaming “Danger, Will Robinson.” Two—he’s used to nameless, faceless fucks. And I don’t fit into either category, which makes him edgy. Three—he’s never had to work for it. Not at all surprising. He’s a walking, talking fantasy. I’m sure he gets ass thrown at him from every angle, from every possible gender. And four—he’s trying, albeit with questionable finesse, to pick me up. Just the thought he wants me, in his room, in his bed, has my heart pounding and my dick stirring hot and heavy in my pants.

  I rest my elbow next to his on the bar top erasing the narrow space separating his body from mine, needing the slight press of skin where our forearms and hands brush against each other. The contact is juvenile, the cliché yawn followed by the reach around. It’s innocuous and pure when my thoughts are crude and explicit, but so fucking perfect I almost lose my train of thought.

  Almost.

  “Is that your disclaimer?” A shadow moves across his face, but it’s gone before I have a chance to identify the emotion behind it.

  “More like a warning label,” he says, one side of his mouth pulling up in a lopsided grin.

  “Then consider me warned. But Adam,” I say, my voice an octave lower, rasping over the words. “You still haven’t asked the question.” I shift and lean forward until my lips hover over his, leaving the final move up to him. We’re in a very public place, although the VIP area is private, and I don’t know how open a closeted man wants to get when there are people around. We’re close, so close I smell the sweet scent of expensive aftershave and the spicy fragrance of . . . tequila.

  “What question?” he whispers. I can barely hear the words over the music.

  Our connected arms rest against each other creating a shield from the remaining bar patrons, sealing us into the intimacy of this moment. My eyes drop to his lips before coming back up to meet his eyes.

  “The only one that matters. The one right there on the tip of your tongue.”

  I leave the ball in his court and will him to move that last inch.

  “Can I . . .” he asks in a stilted breath that ripples over my lips, “have you?”

  Adam

  In my overeager need, I react like a clumsy adolescent. Leaning in at an awkward angle that smashes my nose against his and makes our teeth collide with a noticeable clink. I feel his mouth move into a smile beneath mine. His big hand slides along my jaw and holds my chin as he tilts his head to deepen our kiss.

  His movements, unlike mine, are slow and deliberate. The best k
ind of tease that unleashes an overwhelming desperation that rumbles in my core. Barely contained anticipation cages the breath in my lungs as he leans in and kisses me with just a touch of lips. I open my eyes to see him staring back at me.

  There is something uniquely sensual about the act of kissing with your eyes open. Taking the time to observe another person during one of the most intimate moments two people can share; it’s heady. It says let me see you, all of you.

  I should stop before things get too far. Adam is a client and there are unspoken rules like don’t shit where you eat, but his lips on mine is worth any blowback I might get.

  Our mouths meet again and again in light touches that tempt and coax. Just enough to make me burn, and it’s sensory overload. His mouth warm, his eyes piercing, the sound of his exhales louder with each touch, the fresh scent of his skin. I take everything he offers until I can’t stand it. Until every gentle touch of his lips pushes me to want more. More contact, more friction, just more than what he’s giving me.

  On the next swipe of his lips I take control, kissing him greedily. I grip the back of his neck and run my tongue over his, taking over the kiss. I bite at his lips and suck on his tongue. I kiss until our lips are swollen and sensitive. Until all that teasing and reserve from a moment ago falls away, dissolving between the seduction of our tongues twisting and the pleasure of our lips converging.

  Goddamn.

  This kiss.

  It’s everything a kiss should be: desire-filled synergy that is dynamic and innately masculine. His mouth is hot, and reckless, and so fucking good that every thrust of his tongue mirrors in phantom touches along my throbbing shaft.

  Seth breaks the kiss before I’m ready and drags his nose along the curve of my neck, nibbling at the pulse point behind my ear as he eases away.

  “Don’t stop,” I say on a groan, but my demand goes unanswered.

  He settles back onto the barstool and swivels in the seat to face me head-on. His chest lifts and falls in a broken staccato rhythm. Passion glazes over his eyes as they sweep my body. Stopping briefly at my lips, and my chest, and my dick, which jumps behind my zipper, begging to be freed, and then all the way down to my toes before moving back up to my face.

  “Damn, baby.” He breathes, eyeing me from under his dark brows. He absently runs his finger over his wet, swollen lips.

  I want that mouth back on mine—now. Coming to my feet, I take a step toward him, my fists finding the front pockets of my jeans, because if I touch him with my hands now, I won’t stop. Not until he’s naked under me and his ass presented to me like an offering for the taking. I move until I’m in the open space between his spread thighs. He has to angle his face up to mine to keep eye contact. In this dim light I can’t really make out the beautiful color that shines like polished mahogany. And I can’t read his shadowed expression.

  “What?” I hate the insecurity disguised as irritation that creeps into my voice.

  He tilts his head to the side. “You.”

  “What about me?”

  “Calm down, baby. You’re just . . . not at all what I expect. You’re so fucking sweet; it’s killing me over here.”

  My shoulders deflate because he called me baby, and I like the sweet word said by his gruff voice. And because I know he’s not here for the VIP status or to add another notch in his I-fucked-a-celebrity bedpost. He’s looked at me the same way since the first day we met.

  “I’m not that sweet,” I say.

  With two fingers hooking into my belt loops, he pulls me forward, obliterating the last few inches of my personal space. This close I can see and map the individual lines that converge on his lips. When he exhales, I breathe in desire.

  “But you are,” he says in a strangled voice.

  He uses the fingers at my belt to hoist himself off the barstool. The motion drags soft cotton against my skin and, although banal, the movement is erotic to my sensitized flesh. The weight of his chest on mine as he stands to full height sends my heart sprinting behind my rib cage. He’s a couple of inches shorter, but he feels bigger, stronger. His muscles sculpted and well-defined. His shoulders wider.

  The air between us is hot, weighted down with a month of shared looks, sexual tension, and forbidden temptation. Seth takes my breath away.

  “Let’s get out of here. We can go . . .” I take in our surrounding. It looks like outside of the bartender we’re one of the last groups of people here. Even if this is a very private place, with very specific rules like no pictures, no loud talking, no being an asshole, I’m not ready for public consumption. I keep searching for a space, any space, that we can make ours. As cliché as a long, dark hallway that leads to a semiprivate restroom may be, it’s the only place here and close and accessible.

  “Follow me,” I say in a husky voice, but I don’t move.

  His eyes raise to mine before lowering again to my mouth as Seth leans forward, touching our foreheads and taking my bottom lip between both of his. This kiss, wholly intimate and partially teasing, shreds the last of my control. I take one hand out of my pocket and lace my fingers with his, pulling us both in the direction of the hall.

  “Where are you trying to take me?”

  I turn back around, muscles so tight I’m practically vibrating. “The bathroom. It’s just . . .”

  He shakes his head, face suddenly serious. “The first time we fuck won’t be in a bathroom stall. Come on.”

  He pulls me in the opposite direction, toward the only door in or out of this room, our fingers still linked and our long strides matching as we walk. I stop short when we reach the doorway. Out of habit, I drop his hand and step a respectable distance away from his body.

  The freedom I had within the confines of the VIP area immediately dissipate as the very real world looms on the other side of the door. Seth cocks his head to the side, studying me for one long, uncomfortable minute. I see the exact moment when he gets it. Realization blooms across his features and pulls his eyebrows into a frown.

  “I’ll go out first. I’m your bodyguard. There is nothing crazy about us leaving together but stay with me, all right.” He directs that comment to my shoes. I step next to him and the look he gives me is so many things, it’s hard to pick just one. Everything in his gaze comes down to one emotion: pissed.

  We walk through the door. My lips are still swollen from his kisses and my body still humming in anticipation, but looking at him right now, I’d never guess minutes ago we were seconds away from fucking each other at the bar.

  Where did he shove all that emotion? I can barely place one foot in front of the other.

  There is no hoopla as we exit the building, or when we walk to the large, black Cadillac Escalade. He opens the passenger door for me. He walks around the front of the SUV and slides into the driver’s seat, pressing the ignition button. Our drive to the hotel is quiet, uncomfortably so. The silence is broken only by the tires hitting the asphalt and the clicking of the turn signal.

  I open my mouth to say . . . I don’t know what the hell to say, so I close it just as quickly. I shoot a furtive glance his way, reading his tense shoulders and the death grip on the steering wheel. The silence between us is uncomfortable, irritation pouring off him in waves.

  Seth still hasn’t spoken a word when he pulls into valet and hops out tossing the keys to the parking attendant. I open my own door and get out just as he makes his way to my side of the SUV. We walk into the hotel, but he stays a couple of paces behind me. Even when I slow down to give him time to catch up. At the elevator lobby he presses the up arrow, and I’m surprised when the doors immediately open. He holds the white plastic card in front of the keypad and types in the code that allows us to access the top floor.

  “Let me explain.” I turn toward him, leaning against the elevator wall. He’s facing forward, body stiff but his face softer in profile.

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I said no,” he says more forcibly.

  The e
levator dings and the doors open before my alcohol-soaked brain can come up with a convincing argument. Seth steps off the elevator, his steps quick. He’s in front of his room before I catch up.

  “Hold up for a sec.” I jog over to him. When I stop directly in front of him, he squeezes his eyes closed, rolling his head on his neck. He closes his eyes, disgruntled, before glaring at me.

  I nervously lick my top lip, trying to clear the alcohol haze from my jumbled thoughts. How long have I imagined how it would feel to have his mouth on mine and his body flexing and bowing into my touch? Even irritated, Seth Cody is a masterpiece. A stunning original I want to take my time to observe and appreciate.

  My fingers twitch with the need to touch, and after the heat of his mouth on mine I have to stifle a moan as my teeth sink into the corner of my bottom lip. His eyes track that motion like a cat hunting a mouse, and when they flit back up to mine, some of that annoyance dissipates. It’s replaced by a budding flame I really want to stoke into a fucking inferno.

  “Can we talk in your room? It’ll be quick.”

  “Adam, it’s been a long night. I just want to hit the shower and go to bed.”

  “I promise this won’t take that long.” I ramble in my head, Give in gracefully and put us both out of our misery. You want this—me—us, just as bad as I do. You’re just a little conflicted about the circumstances. I swear if you let me in that door the last thing on your mind will be unnecessary titles and relationships.

  I lean in closer, testing the waters, unable to resist the pull of his gravity. Unlike at the bar where he flowed into me, now he stumbles back. Giving me space I don’t want. I hate this coldness, especially after I finally got a taste of what it is to have his heat.

  Seth opens the door to his room and holds it open with a palm against the center. He signals for me to walk in. The hallway illuminates the small space, showcasing the king-sized bed that dominates the majority of the room. The air is cool in the room and chills me to the bone. The heavy door closes with a thud, encasing us in darkness.