Exposed

by Sierra Riley

  Exposed

  Sierra Riley

  Contents

  Copyright

  Exposed

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  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

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Also by Sierra Riley

  About the Author

  If you enjoyed this book…

  Exposed

  Sierra Riley

  Copyright © 2016 Sierra Riley

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without express written permission of the copyright holder. This book contains sexually explicit content which is suitable only for mature adults.

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  Exposed

  Sierra Riley

  Prologue

  Gabriel

  “You’re not made to follow orders.”

  It had been a long time since anyone had cut to the heart of Gabriel’s act in so few words, but Briar didn’t know the half of it.

  Now that Gabriel was free—as free as he could be in this goddamn industry—he wasn’t going to take shitty orders, even from his boss.

  If only Briar knew how much he’d shut up and taken. But Jordan and his new beau weren’t problems anymore. Or at least, they wouldn’t be once they heard that he was under Briar’s wing.

  Or under his body.

  Imagining the ugly jealousy twisting Jordan’s face drove Gabriel to shift his weight onto one hip, mirroring the way Briar licked his lips. It wasn’t hard to see the pure want that darkened his eyes, and Gabriel didn’t have to act out his own arousal for a second.

  Gabriel stared up into Briar’s eyes, daring him to tell him he’d been wrong. That photographer had been trying to get him into poses that wouldn’t flatter him. And the moment Hayes had put his hands on him roughly, he’d decided to make his job even harder.

  “Suppose not,” Gabriel answered after a moment.

  If the insane chemistry building between them like a crackling fire wasn’t enough, the two of them together would make a lot of people really fucking jealous.

  Gabriel loved that thought.

  His hands rose to his own throat. He popped one shirt button at a time free from its buttonhole, never looking away from Briar.

  “I like that you’re not cowed by anyone.”

  What a bizarre turn of phrase, but it made Gabriel smile. He had to bite back his amusement, though. He was trying to seduce Briar, not make him laugh. Instead, he parted his lips, breathing heavier as he finished unbuttoning his shirt.

  “Pushed around, I was gonna say, but Hayes was pushing you around.”

  The thought made Gabriel’s shoulders tense, but he had to push through that. In front of the agent and everyone, it wouldn’t have gone that far. Besides, this was a perfect segue.

  “I don’t mind a hot guy pushing me around.” Come on. Fuck me, Briar. I’m begging for it. “But he’s not my type.”

  “What is?”

  Although Briar’s voice was soft, it was unmistakable: he knew what he was up to, and he was playing along.

  “I think you have an idea.” Gabriel pulled his shirt over his wrists and rose to his feet. They were moving towards each other, the distance vanishing. Their lips met in a hard, hot, first clash of personalities and desires and needs.

  I need him.

  Gabriel ran his hands up under Briar’s shirt, up to his chest, and rolled his head back slightly when he sucked his lip hard.

  His body burned with the coiled-up frustration of that shitty test shoot and being yelled at by that fucking prick of a photographer and everything from the last couple months.

  All of it bubbled to the surface now as he pressed his palms hard to Briar’s body and groaned, breaking their silence.

  Deep in Briar’s throat, he growled. His thigh was suddenly between Gabriel’s, giving him something to grind against, until their hard cocks were slotted against each other through denim.

  And then Briar’s hands were at his jeans, pulling them open with a slow, sensual roll of their hips together between each button.

  “Hnnnh!” Gabriel’s nails dug into Briar’s back as he clutched him closer, his body already aching for him inside him, hard and fast and now.

  He’d made his bed. There was no going back now.

  1

  Gabriel

  The waiting room was painted in fresh, but cold, dark grays and blacks. Just around the corner, Gabriel Hunter glimpsed silver staircase railings. He’d taken the elevator up, but light flooded into the waiting room from the windows above the stairs, at the front of the building. Natural light was rare for New York City, so it must have been that certain half-hour in the day when the sun was at just the right angle.

  When he glanced back to the secretary, leaning back behind his desk and pushing his hair back and forth, Gabriel’s eyes fell to the stark white translucent acrylic that curved around the front of the desk.

  It felt like the whole place had just been built a month ago, but this was Exposed Modeling Agency. It had been around for years. Its CEO, Briar Fields, was a legend. He’d built the place from the ground up with four buddies, starting out in an old industrial building in Brooklyn.

  And, shit, now he ran one of the top—if anyone asked Gabe, he’d say the top—male modeling agency in NYC.

  And Gabriel was about to get an interview here. Him, of all people. A kid with three hundred bucks and a couple of boxes of clothes to his name, and an exceptional talent for styling the same few pieces.

  He trailed his fingers along the cool metal chair, tapping them to try to calm himself down. When that didn’t work, he recited the job ad in his head.

  Wanted: coolheaded self-starter with exec assistant experience.

  He fit probably none of those requirements, but fuck it, Gabe was desperate. He’d doctored his résumé a little… adjusted the job titles and descriptions, if you like.

  Gabriel wasn’t even that guilty about it. As far as he was concerned, survival came first. If that required him to lie a little, fine. He’d do whatever it took to get a job. Especially here, surrounded with the best-looking guys in the industry.

  And, you know, money.

  But at least half his interest was in being surrounded by gorgeous, usually gay, men. And so far, he hadn’t been disappointed.

  In his first-round interview—just handing over his résumé, consenting to a criminal record search, the usual shit—the HR guy, Dane or Derek or something like that, had been stunningly gorgeous.

  Now he was waiting for the second interview. He supposed that was a good sign.

  The secretary glanced over his desk at Gabriel, but when Gabe caught his eye, he looked away again.

  Gabriel shifted, crossing his ankle over his knee and spreading his arms along the back of the chairs to either side of him.

  Come get me.

 
This guy was a total bottom, though, and Gabriel really wanted to be fucked today. Christ, he had to go get laid at a club tonight or something.

  “Gabe? Or Gabriel? Do you mind being called Gabe?” It was the HR guy again. Gabriel pushed himself to his feet and put on his best charming smile for the blond, who beamed and swayed. The guy turned to gesture with one finger, getting Gabriel to follow him to his office.

  Gabriel snuck a glance at the nameplate on the way back.

  Right, Dayne. He took a moment to settle himself in the chair opposite Dayne’s desk. The door closed, so whisper-soft he barely heard it click.

  “So, Gabriel, I’ve had a look at your résumé and skills list.” Dayne came around the desk and sat in his comfortable leather chair.

  “Mhmm?” Gabriel answered, brushing his fingers through the close-cropped hair at the back of his head.

  Dayne rolled closer to the desk and flicked through papers. “You seem like a great fit for the job. I’d like to get you to meet the man you’ll be working for, if all goes well in this interview. All right?”

  “I’m free…” Gabriel checked his watch, which was a complete bluff. He was unemployed. He was free all day, every damn day.

  But it didn’t do to come off as desperate.

  He brushed a hand across his hair again as if thinking, then nodded. “I should have time, no problem.”

  Dayne’s face relaxed into a smile. He looked relieved, which was a fantastic sign. They didn’t want to lose him. Amazing what picking the right job title on his résumé could do. “Great. Thanks.”

  Gabriel inclined his head. “You had questions for me?”

  “Well, I noticed your address.”

  Not his address. His richest model friend’s house. He lived up in Tribeca, the neighborhood where Gabriel would and should be.

  Instead, he was stuck in crappy Long Island City, sharing a house with four other guys and their landlady.

  But not for long. If he could just land this job and keep it for long enough to become valuable to the company—or the guy he worked for, in any way he could…

  And he’d been honest about a few things on his résumé. He was proficient in oral presentations. Just not the type professionals usually gave.

  “Yes. I have reliable transportation, if that’s what you’re asking.” Gabriel raised his eyebrow, waiting to see if Dayne pressed the point.

  “Great.” Dayne made a note of that and moved on. “What made you apply for this position, exactly?”

  Rent being due next week?

  Gabriel resisted the obvious answer and sat up straighter. “What do you mean? A position at Exposed? Or as an assistant?”

  “Well, clearly your experience qualifies you for an assistant position.”

  Gabriel smiled, eager to move the conversation past that point. “At Exposed? Well, who doesn’t know this place? Anyone with half a brain knows this place. Well, anyone interested in fashion, obviously.”

  “Of course.” Dayne leaned back. “So you’re familiar with the company?”

  “Relatively. I haven’t scanned the Wikipedia article or anything, but I know your niche and specialties.”

  That much was true. Gabriel knew which agencies had the hottest models. When he partied with them, he made a point of finding out who represented them. Exposed always came out on top.

  Dayne beamed. “Perfect.”

  Gabriel pursed his lips. “So, executive assistant? We went over the job description in the first interview, but you never said who for.”

  “Ah.” Dayne leaned over when the phone rang, holding up a finger.

  Gabriel didn’t appreciate being interrupted. He leaned back slightly and pursed his lips.

  “Yes, if you could, thanks. Ten minutes?” Dayne appraised Gabriel for a moment, then looked down at his phone again. “Maybe fifteen? Yes. Thanks very much.”

  Gabriel was intrigued. That was someone important.

  When Dayne hung up, he looked back at Gabriel. “Would you like to meet the man you’d be working for? I’ve asked him to join us for a few minutes, while I conclude the interview. I’d like to get a sense for how you could work together.”

  “Of course,” Gabriel told him, still leaning back in his chair. He glanced idly around the office.

  “What would you say makes you most suitable for this position, as an executive assistant, rather than a general intern or admin assistant?”

  Gabriel arched an eyebrow again. Really? “My résumé made that pretty clear, I think. Experience, aptitude, and an interest in fashion, not just the… hum-drum.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Expense reports. General office maintenance. The executives shouldn’t be bothered with that stuff,” Gabriel said, still cool as a cucumber.

  He was starting to crack inside, though, restraining his irritation only barely. Either he was qualified or he wasn’t. What did Dayne want him to do? Beg for the job?

  Not a fucking chance.

  “But the duties listed on the job description—”

  “Won’t be a problem,” Gabriel interrupted. “Any intern can present expense reports. It takes someone with experience to tell whether a guest is in the industry or not from a single glance at his outfit.”

  That, he could do.

  “What can you tell from a visitor for your boss, at a glance?” Dayne asked. “Why is that important?”

  Gabriel snorted. “Hugo Boss? True Religion? Superdry? God forbid, H&M? They all say vastly different things about the guy wearing them.”

  God, HR was so annoying. And this guy was in an okay suit, but it clearly wasn’t something he’d picked for himself. There was some imaging guy behind the scenes making sure all the employees looked the part.

  “The average secretary wouldn’t have to know that. Someone gatekeeping a department head or VP or president or even the CEO,” Gabriel gestured one level higher with his fingers for each level he named, “should.”

  “I agree.”

  That was a deep, rustling voice behind him. Gabriel only barely managed not to jolt.

  He turned slightly in his chair, letting the other guy approach him instead of rising to see who it was.

  The muscled forearms with shirt sleeves rolled up over them, rock-hard chest under a crisp silk shirt and textured tie, and the perfectly-coordinated pocket square: those were the first things Gabriel noticed.

  That, and the bulge at his crotch, telling Gabriel that this was someone to look at twice.

  Then, Gabriel saw his face.

  Briar Fields. The CEO himself, one hand in his pocket, an amused smirk on his face.

  Holy shit.

  Gabriel took his time sitting up, then rising to his feet to offer his hand for a shake.

  “Gabriel Hunter.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  2

  Briar

  Shit, this kid had balls.

  All Briar knew about Gabriel was that he was blessed with the kind of looks that had got him in the front door, apparently had relevant experience, and was fueled with the bravado and arrogance of a twenty-two-year-old for whom the doors of the city would open in a flash… bedroom or boardroom.

  The first part was the most important to Briar.

  He’d walked in right when Gabriel was sassing Dayne, implying that he should check his résumé rather than ask stupid questions.

  Briar kind of liked that attitude, as much as he hated to admit it. He recognized it in himself; it was what had grown Exposed so fast. He’d been pretty young—just about this guy’s age—when he’d started the business. At twenty-seven now, that hadn’t been that long ago.

  In his early twenties, Briar hadn’t had as many friends or contacts as most other agencies. He’d just acted like an important CEO—too important for everyone—for a couple of years. Then, the agency had become important.

  Fake it ’till you make it.

  Gabriel clearly thought he was too good for expense reports. Briar was inclined t
o agree—at least, for now, he was too pretty for them.

  The consultant last year had insisted Briar look for an assistant of his own within the next eight months, rather than micromanaging his own affairs. It was the next phase in growth. Even a modest increase in his productivity would, apparently, pay for an assistant’s salary.

  But Briar liked booking his own flights, calling his friends and business contacts at other companies to get in touch directly, and fuck it, ordering his own lunches. He wasn’t lazy.

  On the contrary, growing up, he’d been called a higher-functioning kid. Briar had always needed to stay busy to keep himself sane.

  In the last few months, that had become especially true.

  He pulled his thoughts away from himself to take in Gabriel as the little blond spitfire rose to his feet.

  God, he was pretty. He had full, pink lips and long lashes—the kind that looked great wrapped around his cock and peering up at him for approval, respectively.

  He was thin—maybe a bit too thin. Model-wannabe? As he held out his slender hand to shake, Briar’s eyes fell to the slender fingers and limp wrist. He screamed gay from about the other side of the city.

  And those baby-blue eyes were captivating. Briar examined them for long moments, trying to guess what was going through his mind.

  “Gabriel Hunter.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Briar told him, keeping his voice soft and not confrontational. He was intrigued by this guy’s attitude. Another hot, firebrand young stallion raging against the world, but there was intelligence behind his eyes, whatever vain fashionista gay he liked to play the part of.

  Interesting.

  “Is this the final interview, then?” Gabriel asked, his long fingers sliding just a little too far down Briar’s palm. Soft fingertips pressed to his wrist for a moment before Gabriel’s palm lined up with Briar’s for a single slow handshake.