CHAPTER REVEAL
The Hideaway
A Lavender Shores Novel
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Lavender Shores’s resident tattoo artist, Connor Clark, looks the part—six foot six, musclebound, and covered in ink—and most definitely doesn’t blend in. Grafted into the Bryant family as a teenager to escape his abusive father, the Bryants saved his life, but Connor has never truly felt a part of the founding family royalty. And if his heart’s desire were revealed, it would betray everything the Bryants have done for him.
Micah Bryant was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He’s always had everything he ever wanted—save the one he desires most. Even moving to New York City for a few years didn’t dampen his passion. Not that Micah had expected it to. He’s known his destiny since he was nine years old, the moment it had walked through his door.
After years of longing, years of secrets and stolen moments of passion and love, Connor weakens enough to allow the town to see how he feels, and let the Bryants know his love for Micah is anything but brotherly. But no sooner had the decision been made than Connor’s biological family returns and shatters it all. Still, Micah holds on to the belief that their romance was written in the stars, but maybe he’d been wrong all those years…
Cover artist, Angsty G
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Thirteen
Micah
I ran my hand up Connor’s neck and over the back of his head, his thick hair stinging over the blisters from my work at the farm and the violin strings. I was thankful for the sting, for that touch of pain. It was proof I wasn’t dreaming, that I hadn’t gotten swept away in the music and the moonlit cave or the sound of the sea. Connor was really there. He’d truly said the things I’d been waiting my entire life to hear. We’d been close before, but even then, he hadn’t sounded so sure. So desperately certain. I pulled back from the kiss and searched his eyes just to make doubly sure.
Connor’s gaze met mine, clear and bright and, for once, unafraid. He knew what I needed. And I shouldn’t have been surprised, no one knew me like Connor. “I’m yours. Fully and completely. For as long as you will have me.”
My throat constricted, and my heart clenched. He was mine. Finally. I’d been his since the day he walked through the door. “About damn time.” I kissed him again, the feel of his lips, the pressure of his tongue, the strength of his hand on my back—all sweeping me away as surely as the music had done moments before.
Almost instantly, he began to rock against me, the hard thickness of him pressing slightly above my own. I started to reach up and rip my shirt off only to bash the violin against his hip. He broke the kiss and took a small step back, grinning. “Want to put that away real quick? Then head back to your house?”
I probably looked at him like he was insane. “Are you kidding? Number one, I’m not waiting that long to get you inside of me. And two”—I motioned with my free hand around the cavern—“what better place is there for us?”
“That’s what I hoped you’d say.” He took another step back. “I’ll go get the stuff.” And then he was heading to the other room.
I hurried to the edge of the cavern wall, where I’d left the case, and put the violin away and locked it tight, then began to strip off my clothes. I’d just stepped out of my shoes and sweatpants, the stone cold under my bare feet, when Connor walked back in, blankets in one hand, the bottle of lube in the other.
He halted, and his gaze traveled over me. I stood a little straighter and angled my hips so my erection was lit by the candlelight, basking in his desire. “I can’t believe I almost lost you.”
Where the hell had he gotten that idea? “You never would’ve lost me, Connor.”
“Well, now I’ll make sure of it.”
Another few moments passed as I spread the blankets and Connor nearly ripped the clothes from his body.
He stood a few inches from me, and he suddenly looked nervous.
“You still okay?” Surely he hadn’t flipped back to normal already.
He nodded. “Completely. I just can’t believe this is actually real. Probably sounds ridiculous, considering how many times….”
My favorite was when Connor was above me. It didn’t matter if I was on my back or my stomach, just as long as his huge, heavy mass weighed me down, sheltered me, claimed me. But that wasn’t what I needed. I took his hand, and pulled him gently onto the blanket. “Lie down.”
He did, lowering himself in front of me and then lying back.
I stood above him, straddling his hips. There truly was no other man for me. None had ever measured up. Not in physical beauty, not in sexual chemistry, not in his sweet and fiery nature. My gaze traveled over Connor as if seeing him for the first time—I suppose in a way I was. I no longer just saw Connor, I saw my Connor. Finally, mine. His long, thick legs leading up to his long thick, uncut cock and then the endless muscles and tattoos of his stomach, chest, shoulders, and arms. And his face. Handsome yet imperfect, slightly beautiful and defiant. The little curve of the right side of his lips that always gave him a cocky expression. Those hazel eyes, their gaze roaming over my body, then lifting to meet mine. I saw the proof there, just like I had moments before, just like I had heard in his voice. I could see the change. Couldn’t put words to it, but it was there. The candlelight illuminated the slight scar in the crease of his left cheek and the other one under his eyebrow. They’d been there as long as I’d known him. He never told me the story of where they came from, just said they were reminders of how lucky he was with his new family.
Nearly overcome, I sank to my knees, his erection grazing my ass. I barely noticed. I bent closer and kissed the scar on his eyebrow and then the scar on his cheek before pulling back to meet his eyes once more. “I will keep you safe.”
For a second I thought I was seeing things, a glistening that wasn’t there. Connor did not cry. Ever. But then a tear fell, and he reached up with his large hands and cupped my face. “And I will protect you with my life.”
Silly promises, maybe. We were in the middle of Lavender Shores. The only real threat might be a sudden tsunami sending a wave into the cavern. But Connor was all too aware of how extremely unsafe life truly was. Thanks to him, so was I.
Our lips met again, and this time, while there was heat—there was always heat with Connor—it was more of a seal to our vow. The signing of a contract, the promise of hearts.
Part of me wondered if I’d ever expected to have what I’d been waiting for. I’d held on to it my entire life, waited for it, never let go of hope. But maybe I hadn’t truly believed it would ever happen, because I had no expectations of that moment. No preconceived fantasies of what should happen.
As we kissed, he stayed hard, pressed against my ass. I stayed hard, pressed against his stomach. I could feel his desire for me, and I had no doubt mine was obvious. But neither of us were swept away in passion, not like we had been a billion times before. Not like in the classroom, not in some dark closet, not in hidden moments in a bedroom, not even in our hideaway.
This was… I wasn’t sure. Different. Slow.
I don’t know how much longer until I broke the kiss, slightly aware of the cool draft over the naked skin of my back. I raised up slightly, retrieved the lube beside us, poured some out, and then reached behind me to encircle Connor’s cock. Then I lined him up with my entrance.
Our eyes found each other again. Connor’s widened slightly as I sank down slowly, taking the head of him into me. I paused there, letting my body adjust, not that it needed much time—I was more than used to his girth by that point. I released his erection, bringing my slick hand back around and swiping the lube over my own dick. Then I fixed both my hands over the muscles of his chest. Still holding his gaze, I sank down onto him, slower than I ever had before, reveling at the feel of him stretching me out, the sensation of him filling me.
Connor sucked in a little breath, a hiss of pleasure, but didn’t speak, didn’t look away or close his eyes.
Finally, I surrounded his length, and he was buried almost as deep inside of me as he could go. I rocked one time, loving the feel of him moving in me, and then held still. “I just want to stay here for a second. I want to feel you, just have you inside of me as long as I can.”
Connor moved his hands, placed them over mine and then grazed the top my forearms to grip my elbows. “My body is yours. You can do with it anything you want. As long as I’m inside of you, I’m happy.”
Though our story was secret, at least for the time being, I knew that anyone on the outside looking in would judge me a fool. See all the years I’d pined over Connor, every man I’d rejected who claimed they loved me, every argument Connor and I’d had, and every tear I had shed.
Well, maybe that judgment would be accurate. Who knew?
Foolish or not, this was why I had never been able to let go, why I’d never stopped believing, even when I wasn’t sure it would ever happen. I knew nothing and no one could give me whatever this unnamable feeling was, whatever this sense of rightness was called that settled into my gut, into my soul. I was never sure if it was promised to arrive, but I had known what this was. Destiny. Pure and simple.
Turned out, destiny came for fools.
My gaze traveled over his flawless body, returning to places I’d already committed to memory. Tracing the feathers spreading over his chest, then glancing past the flower over his shoulder and focusing on the wolf howling on his right bicep.
I never needed to ask what Connor’s tattoos meant. They told the story of his life, of how he saw himself. Maybe that wolf more than any other. The symbol of a pack animal who could at any moment become solitary and forced to survive the harsh winters alone.
Connor would face no winter by himself. Ever again. And neither would I.
When I met his gaze again, I wasn’t sure if the words I spoke next were seeking assurance or just stating a fact. I suppose it didn’t really matter. “No going back.”
Connor smiled gently and gave a small shake of his head. “No, no going back.”
Then I began to move. At first simply rocking slowly back and forth, feeling the length of him deep inside of me, feeling him grow harder at my motions. One of his hands left the grip on my elbow and grasped my cock, and he ran his thumb over the head, smearing my precome and causing me to let out a hiss of my own.
It was just the touch of his hand on me. A sensation I’d experienced countless times, but it felt new in that moment. Different yet familiar. Beautiful.
I lifted slightly, rising just enough so I could build a new kind of rhythm. I arched forward and pulled nearly off his length, then leaned back and took him fully inside once more, relishing the feel of him stretching me, filling me. I did it again and then again. A little faster each time, even though I wanted to keep it slow, to revel in our joining that spoke of promises as much as our word. But my desire didn’t allow it, the pleasure of his body too much to ignore. I sank over him, violently, again and again.
“That’s it, Micah, use me. Use your man.” Though Connor never broke eye contact, he began to stroke my cock, the slickness from the lube and the precome causing me to shudder. “I want you to come first. Come while I’m inside of you.” His voice was gravel and heat. With a hint of coming undone.
I released my grip on his chest so I could lean back, build up an even quicker rhythm on his cock, thrust with greater force into his fist.
At the motion, he released my other elbow and stroked over my abs, then up over my chest and began to tease my nipple. His touch teasing and claiming, ensured I wouldn’t last long.
I groaned, and he chuckled, pleased. Almost prideful.
“That’s it. Come for me, Micah. Come for me.”
I skewered myself onto him as I thrust into his fist, feeling him stretching out my ass further as he pumped my cock.
All too soon, my orgasm built.
Connor knew me well, knew my body. Could tell by my breathing, by how my erection got harder, my balls drew tighter, the flow of precome increased, that I was about to shoot over the edge. At some point I’d closed my eyes. “Micah. Look at me when you come.”
I looked down at him, even as I slammed myself back onto his hardness.
“I love you with all of my heart. With everything I am.” Connor’s fingers swiped over the head of my cock, then wrapped around the shaft once more as he pumped. “I’m yours. Forever.”
Forever. Connor and me. The words I’d always known I’d hear, feared I never would.
Forever.
My soul belonged to him. As did my body. And he belonged to me.
With a final thrust down over his length, I orgasmed with a cry of pleasure, exultation, and relief, my load shooting all over his chest and stomach, covering his fist as he continued to jerk me off. I cried out again and then shuddered once more as my ass suddenly became overly sensitive. I sank down on him and held still, breathing heavily.
“You meant that one.” Connor’s cocky grin twitched, and he smoothed his hand over my hips. “I did too. But, damn, I loved watching you lose yourself, feeling your body control mine how you needed.”
“Yeah, I did mean it.” I grinned down at him. “And I’m not done meaning either.” I shifted slightly, causing his erection to push in a bit deeper once more.
“You don’t have to keep going, my love. I know it can be too much after you come.” Connor smiled up at me again, looking fully satisfied.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Like hell.” I sucked in a breath, held it for a moment and let it out. “If you think I’m letting this moment pass without having every drop of you inside of me, you’re fucking crazy.”
Connor laughed again, and I realized I’d been wrong. Now he looked satisfied, or at least on the edge of it.
I took one more deep breath and then returned to my rhythm, fast and hard, nearly pulling off him and then slamming down, taking him as deep as he could go. It hurt. Almost too much. And then, the pain threshold broke, and it was nothing but pleasure.
Connor gripped my thighs, his fingers digging into the muscles as he began to thrust his hips, matching his rhythm with mine. He caught my gaze again, and I knew him as well as he knew me. I could see the climax seconds away, feel the change of his cock inside of me, the stuttering of his rhythm. “Tell me how you love me, Micah.”
“With everything I am, Connor. I am yours. I was made for you.” I slammed down onto him again. “You were made for me.”
He came with a loud cry, not closing his eyes or looking away, then pounding up into me so hard that it lifted me off the stone floor. Before my knees made contact, he thrust again, releasing more into me. Even as he lowered, both of us touching down once more, still he thrust. Emptying himself.
When he slowed, I sank back down onto him a final time, but didn’t pull off, reticent to separate. “Wow.”
Connor gave a snort. “Yeah, no shit.” He glanced at my thighs, and relaxed his grip. “Sorry. I think I might have bruised you.”
I looked down at the red marks, then rolled my eyes. “Like I care.” I leaned down, carefully so he stayed inside of me, and kissed him.
One of Connor's hands slipped into my hair, holding me to him gently.
This was real. It was finally real.
We kissed until I felt him grow soft. Until, though I wasn’t ready, our bodies separated. Finally I pulled back and met his gaze again.
He smiled up at me. “I love you.”
Maybe he’d seen I needed that assurance, just for a heartbeat. That, this time, orgasms wouldn’t lead to him running for the hills. Connor didn’t look like he was in a hurry to go anywhere. I sat up straighter, still straddling him. “I love you, too.”
I made a move to get off him, but he held me still by gripping one of my thighs. His free left hand lifted to my chest, and his fingers traced the Lavender Shores tattoo, the Connor tattoo. “I almost refused to put your tattoo there.” His voice was quiet, a little distant. “I would have if Gilbert hadn’t been there.”
“Andrew has his in the exact same spot.” All of the Bryants and Kellys had gotten the tattoo, our way of confirming to Connor he was fully accepted and part of our family, but everyone had gotten the tattoo in a different place, each one having a different reason or meaning for the location. Only Andrew’s and mine matched.
“Yeah, but his is there because he actually loves Lavender Shores that much. The town is in his heart, and his blood.”
I shrugged, grinning down at him. “Yeah, that’s why I said I got it there too.”
His gaze flicked to mine again. “I knew that wasn’t why you got it there.”
“Duh. I knew you were a stubborn ass, I never thought you were an idiot. Of course you knew.”
He chuckled. “Maybe I should get a second one. Put it on my heart as well.”
“No.” I took his hand away from my chest, twisted it so I could see the back, and traced the heart tattoo with my thumb. “You put it here so everyone could see it. Claiming yourself as a Bryant to the world. It’s the right place for you.” Then I did something I had never done before. I allowed my thumb to go to the center of the heart, where it was blank on the other eleven of us that have the tattoo. I traced the puckered skin there, and Connor sucked in a breath. One so different than he had during sex. Then I lifted his hand and pressed my lips to the scar. To the cigarette burn that hadn’t been there when he first walked through our doors, but had been fresh, deep, and blistering when he’d returned right before Christmas.
My eyes stung, and I squeezed them tight, refusing to let tears fall. I wouldn’t cry over Connor’s pain in front of him. Not when his eyes were always dry. I repositioned, rising off him and then settling against his side, placing my head on his chest. “We’ve lost so much time.”
“I know. And I know it’s my fault.”
I grimaced at the guilt in Connor’s tone. I didn’t want to take away from the happiness of the moment, but melancholy began to sink in, at the sight of Connors scars, the reminder of how many times I could’ve lost him, of all the years we’d wasted. “It’s not that. I just don’t want to lose any more time.”
“We won’t.” He stroked his hands soothingly over my back. “And we’ve got many years left, still young. You haven’t even hit thirty yet.”
I nodded, but couldn’t keep my thoughts at bay. “Remember that box of pills I found in the bathroom when I moved in?”
Connor hesitated, probably needing a second to follow my train of thought. “Yeah, the ones that belonged to Alan, Alex’s husband.”
“Yeah.” I’d only mentioned to Connor a couple of things I’d discovered in the house. Most of the rest I had learned in the past year, when Connor and I didn’t have much time together. “I found a bunch more stuff in the attic. Journals, lots of medical files, a ton of photo albums.”
Again he hesitated. “Sounds like what you found wasn’t pleasant?”
“Some of it was. Most of the photo albums were filled with countless trips Alex and Alan took. They looked so happy.”
“Really?” Connor chuckled. “I can barely remember Alan at all, but from what little I saw of Alex, I can’t picture him ever being happy.”
That was my point. “I try to talk to Adrian about Alex, about some of the stuff I found. But he gets weird every time I bring it up. There’s definitely a lot of guilt around how the family treated Alex and Alan.”
“One more match that the founding families never approved of.” He continued to stroke my back. “Why are you thinking about them right now?”
I snuggled in, unable to get close enough. “I just don’t want to waste another second with you.”
Connor didn’t respond, just tightened his arm around me.
“It looks like the two of them were so happy, for a long time, but then from what I’m piecing together from the few journals and all the medical bills, it seems like Alan went downhill fast. Early-onset Alzheimer’s, along with bipolar disorder, and probably a few other things if the medication is any indication.”
“Shit. Sounds intense.”
“Yeah. I think those last years, Alan probably wasn’t even himself. I’m betting he’s the one who put the holes in the walls. Probably should’ve been hospitalized, but the few things Adrian said, it sounds like Alex was just as stubborn as the rest of the family about everything. I think the last couple of decades of their relationship, Alex shut them both away in that house. I can’t imagine what life would’ve been like for them. Then after Alan died, it seems Alex just kept up the same routine.”
Connor thought for a long time, his hand coming to rest over my shoulder and then returning to stroking my back. “Gives a slightly different picture to crazy, grumpy old Alex Rivera in the old scary house.”
“Exactly.” I almost didn’t say my next thoughts. They were too ridiculous, too sentimental. “I want us to give that house a different love story. A happier ending. And maybe, somehow, Alex and Alan will watch us there, and maybe they’ll find some comfort through us.”
Despite the heaviness of the conversation, Connor chuckled. “The thought of the ghost of Alex and Alan hanging around us doesn’t exactly spell romance to me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want us to waste any more time. The two of them thought they had forever, but they didn’t. Not really.”
“Just because you’re in that house doesn’t mean we have their destiny.”
“I know. I don’t feel like that. Just the opposite, in fact. The more I find out about the two of them, the more at home I feel in a strange way. And it drives home how important seizing the moment is. I’ve almost lost you so many times.”
Connor angled up suddenly, wrapping his arm around my neck, twisting to face me, and crushing me into his chest. “No. You haven’t. Even if I’d found a way to run from you, some way to never return, I would’ve always been yours. I’ve never questioned that, even though I have everything else. I’ve always known all I am is yours. I just didn’t want to be the thing that chained you down. And we have decades to be together. We won’t end up like Alex and Alan.”
I breathed deep, taking in the familiar, nearly burnt scent of ink that was always in his skin, the smell of his sweat, the smell of my seed already drying in his chest hair, and I prayed he was right. “Be my chains, Connor. I’ll be yours. We’ll hold tight to everything we love, and we won’t let anything or anyone rip them away.”
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Rosalind Abel grew up tending chickens alongside her sweet and faithful Chow, Lord Elgin. While her fantasy of writing novels was born during her teen years, she never would have dreamed she’d one day publish steamy romances about gorgeous men. However, sometimes life turns out better than planned.
In between crafting scorching sex scenes and helping her men find their soul mates, Rosalind enjoys cooking, collecting toys, and making the best damn scrapbooks in the world (this claim hasn’t been proven, but she’s willing to put good money on it).
She adores MM Romance, the power it has to sweep the reader away into worlds filled with passion, steam, and love. Rosalind also enjoys her collection of plot bunnies and welcomes new fuzzy ones into her home all the time, so feel free to send any adorable ones her way.
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