Exquisitely Broken (A Sin City Tale Book 1)

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Exquisitely Broken (A Sin City Tale Book 1) Page 8

by M. Jay Granberry


  This girl is under my skin. Has been since day one. The fact that I can’t pin her down, ask her out, figure out her class schedule, or what she does when she’s not in class makes it worse. Much worse.

  “I’m going to talk to her. Check my breath.” He blows a hot stream of air up my nose, and I jerk my head back at the offensive odor.

  “Damn, man.” I wave a hand in front of my face.

  “It’s that bad? You have gum?” He tries to straighten his wrinkled shirt.

  “Nah, sorry, bro. You gotta find that shit on your own.”

  “Come on, Jake, help me out. She’ll be gone by the time I get back.”

  “Then you better hurry up, huh?”

  When he walks away, I turn toward Sinclair and follow her into the kitchen. The sway of her perky ass encased in a jean skirt just short enough to court my imagination mesmerizes me. She stops and leans her hip on the counter. Every couple of seconds her eyes flit from the blonde I hadn’t even noticed at her side to the door, like she waiting for something or someone to arrive.

  I pull the fresh pack of gum out of my back pocket, take out a foil wrapped piece, and quickly open it. I fold the piece into my mouth letting the fresh minty flavor coat my tongue.

  My system suddenly floods with testosterone. A caveman impulse pounds in my head, telling me to get in there, claim her, and put my stamp on it, so that the only person she’ll look for is me. The only entrance she’ll anticipate is mine.

  After the blonde finishes at the keg. I grab one of the red cups stacked on the counter next to her hip.

  “There she is,” I say in a low voice next to her ear. I’m standing well within her personal space, probably closer than necessary and way closer than I should.

  Sin turns her curious brown eyes and an answering smile on me. Those fucking dimples carve out matching valleys in both her cheeks and, for the second time in so many minutes, my night grinds to a slow halt for this girl. Only because of this girl.

  “I didn’t realize I was lost. Were you looking for me?” She smiles at me, but her eyes slide over my shoulder once again looking at the door. Who you waiting for, Sin? I’m here. Right here. In front of you.

  “I was,” I say. “You’re a hard woman to pin down.”

  “Well, you got me,” she says. Her eyes drop to her phone before bouncing back up to mine. “At least for the next couple of minutes.”

  Boss up, Jake. If you have a couple of minutes. Make every single one of them count.

  “Omigod… Jake, is that you?” The blonde next to Sin squeals, pulling me into a hug.

  She’s vaguely familiar in a Vegas is a big small city and there is six degrees of separation between people in a certain age group kind of way, but I can’t place her.

  “A yeah.” I squint at her face. Her name is something with a T. Tanya. Tammy. Trina. I got it. “Tina, right?”

  “Right.” She beams at me. “This is my roommate, Sinclair.” She waves a dismissive hand in Sin’s direction. Completely oblivious to the exchange Sin and I just had.

  “Yeah, I got that.” I say. I can’t hide the thread irritation making its way into my voice.

  Sin’s eyes once again move to the door. This time staying on it for a longer period. I’m envious of that door and, by default, the person she’s waiting to come through it.

  “Tina, I’m trying to convince Sinclair here to give me just a little bit of her time, and I could use your endorsement. Tell her I’m a good guy.” I wink at Sin and finally she looks at me with something other than amused indifference.

  “Who needs good when dealing with Vegas royalty?”

  I roll my eyes at that comment. Vegas doesn’t have royalty. There is new money and older new money, most of it is ill-gotten gains from every conceivable vice. Las Vegas high society doesn’t necessarily fit in with the cotton kings from the South, the railroad barons from Colorado, or the industrial revolutionaries from Detroit. This city made its bones catering to immorality. We’re upper society’s dirty little secret. Everyone has been here, done the drugs, sampled the prostitutes, and gambled in the back rooms, but no one wants to admit they enjoy it.

  “Jake, take my number. We should get together.” There is no mistaking the invitation in Tina’s words or Sin’s waning interest as she fingers the edge of her skirt . I absently hand Tina my phone when Sin’s phone rings, and she immediately answers. I shamelessly listen, greedy for information, anything that will give me an in with her.

  “Hey Adam…”

  Adam? Who is he? Her boyfriend? She doesn’t have a boyfriend, right?

  “Tina drug me to a party.” She presses the phone tight to her ear and sticks a finger in the opposite ear, trying to block out the background noise.

  “Twenty minutes? But that’ll only leave us fifteen minutes to get there,” she says. “Yeah. I’m dressed but…” She pauses to listen. “No, I didn’t bring the helmet. I straightened my hair. That sweaty thing will…” She nods at something he’s saying.

  God I wish I could hear what he’s saying? I bet its candy, sickly sweet, sticky bullshit. That’s what men my age looking to get laid do. That’s what I’d be doing right now if she wasn’t on the phone.

  “At the Kappa house.” She says.

  “I’ll be outside when you get here.” She smiles into the phone before saying, “Absolutely.”

  The only thing I understood from the one side of the conversation was she’ll be here for at least another fifteen minutes.

  “Here you go.” Tina slides my phone into my palm, making sure to drag her nails along my skin. “Sin, I think Lauren and Stacy just walked in. I’m…” Sin holds up a finger dipping her head to catch the rest of what Adam is saying, and Tina walks across the room without a backward glance.

  “Kay. Just be careful and get here as fast as you can.” Sin presses the button to end the call. A slight frown creases the skin between her eyes, her full lips are drawn down in a cute pout, and those dimples come out even when she’s upset.

  “Boyfriend,” I ask flipping the cell phone in my hand.

  “Best friend,” she answers.

  I expel a breath. I can work with that. Now, I have fifteen minutes to take my shot.

  “Want to dance?” I hold out my hand.

  She looks between it and my face a couple of times before she says, “Sure.”

  But she doesn’t take my hand as she walks toward the makeshift dance floor. I follow her lithe figure through the throngs of people that have doubled in the last couple of minutes, and I grab her hand before I lose her.

  Black lights hang above the dance floor. The purple hue washes Sin’s white shirt and light-colored jean skirt with an iridescent glow. She finds a decent spot in the middle of all the bodies and turns to face me.

  It’s too dark to see her expression, but when I place my hands on the naked skin of her waist and start a sensual rhythm, she rocks with me. We move together like it’s natural, like it’s the hundredth time I’ve had her in my arms instead of the first.

  I pull her in closer and curve my body around hers, erasing the last couple of inches respectable distance. Her lips are an inch from my lips, her chest flush against my chest, and when her legs part to cradle one of mine, my dick takes notice and hardens at our proximity. I ease her hips away from mine, trying hard not to offend her and embarrass myself.

  “Let me take you out on a date.”

  “I don’t date.”

  “Because of Adam?” I run my fingertips along the dip of her spine, gently digging into the muscles of her back.

  “Not even close.” She lets out a sigh as I hit a spot.

  “You don’t like me?”

  “I don’t know you.” She laughs with a toss of her head. Those dimples pop, and the ends of her hair tickle as the length skims my arm. My semi becomes full and heavy between my legs.

  “Ask me anything. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  She half sighs, half moans, leaning into me, giving me
more of her weight. “You sure about that?” she breathes against my lips.

  “I’m sure I want to take you out. So yeah.”

  “How will I know if your answers are the truth?”

  “Faith.”

  Her lips slip into a small smile, but the dimples don’t pop this time. I’m a little disappointed until she presses her soft lips against my ear, and purrs in a husky voice, “Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?”

  “That’s easy. You.”

  “Is this where I have faith?”

  “You tell me. What I just said was one hundred percent true. I want to know you. Everything about you. I would love to sit across from you or next to you and have your undivided attention for however long you’ll give it to me.”

  She pulls back, tilting her head up to mine. The whites of her eyes glow under the black light, but I can’t make out her pupils. What is she thinking?

  A new song starts, the base deeper, the rhythmic flow of the rapper hypnotic. Sin’s body does this sexy roll, her back muscles flex under my fingers, and I’m not sure but, fuck me, I think her pussy just brushed my thigh. Her hands slide up my arms and curve around the back of my neck.

  “Would you like to be famous? And in what way?” There is a weight to her words, one I don’t understand. I stare into her eyes and try to formulate an answer, but her body is the ultimate distraction.

  “Um… No. I never pictured myself famous. I look at famous people, and I can’t imagine living under that microscope. Opening my life up to ridicule and judgement. Instead of fame I want freedom. To live my life on my own terms. What about you?”

  “Do I want to be famous? Or Free?”

  “Famous.”

  “Sometimes.” She tilts her head to the side.

  God, I wish I could see her eyes. If only so I could guess what she’s thinking.

  “I sing in a band. Music and fame kinda go hand in hand. It’s crazy, right?”

  “Not at all.” I can totally picture her on a stage with her raspy voice reaching out like a siren’s call.

  My forehead drops to hers, our breathing comes together in hot, short, spurts.

  “Can I kiss you?” I thread my fingers into her hair, easing forward the last fraction of an inch between us.

  Since the first moment I saw her wandering through the quad and helped her find her dorm room, I’ve thought about how her lips would feel against mine. If she’s taste as sweet as she looks.

  “No,” she says, her lips close enough to tease but still too far to taste.

  The slightest shifts in our position would definitely satisfy my question of if she tastes as sweet as she looks. And God, do I want to taste her. I trail my tongue along my bottom lip, begging her without words. Kiss me. Just a hint of taste. That’s all I need.

  Her coquettish eyes turn up to mine, and I know she’s playing me or, at the very least, playing with me. The eyes, the dimples, the made for sin body. Her. Everything about her does it for me. Lust spirals through my body, bottoming out in my balls, drawing them up almost painfully tight. I’m leaking like a fucking preteen, and I can’t make myself care. She’s a fantasy in the flesh, a lucid dream. One that I want to take my time to learn and explore.

  A high-pitched ring goes off close to my ear, and Sin leans back, the light from her screen illuminating the otherwise dark dance floor. I hadn’t even noticed she was holding the phone. We both look at the screen. It’s Adam.

  “Don’t answer that.” I take a chance and place a single openmouthed kiss at the base of her throat. The touch is brief but still enough to make my lips tingle with wasted lust.

  “I have to.” She untangles her body from mine, her hands smoothing out her clothes.

  “Hey,” she says into the phone, pressing a palm against the opposite ear. “You’re already here?” She pauses for a second. “It’s been how long?” She raises her voice on the last word. “Shit. Sorry. I’m headed out.” Sin presses the red button to end the call. She turns to go and throws a muttered, “Sorry” in my general on her way toward the door.

  “Hold up.” I grab one of her hands, trying to pull her back to me, but her limbs are stiff, making it hard to maneuver through the bodies still dancing around us. “You’re leaving? Right now? I thought we were having a good time.”

  “We were and now I have to go.” She turns her back on me again, walking with purpose away from me.

  It’s taken me months to finally pin her down long enough to get this far. I’m not just letting her go. That leaves me no choice but to follow as she pushes her way through crowd. When we finally exit the house, she expels a relieved breath, and runs her hands subconsciously over her hair and down her skirt.

  The sound of a motorcycle engine pulls my attention off Sin to the man straddling the bike in front of the house. He pulls the helmet off his head and from this distance, we look about the same height. He has long blond hair pulled into a bun on top of his head. A worn leather jacket covers a Notorious B.I.G T-shirt. Skinny black jeans and heavy leather boots round out the look.

  “Sin, wait.” She looks at me over her shoulder. Under the bright light of the full moon I can clearly see her studying me, but I still can’t read the emotions in the depth of her eyes. Desire is definitely there. But there is something else. Regret. Maybe irritation. Fuck me. I wish I knew her better.

  I close the distance between us, and she turns quickly to face me. She presses her hand solidly to the center of my chest. I place my hand over hers, letting the heat of her palm soak into my muscles and ease the rapid beat of my heart.

  “I have to go, Jake. We’re already late.” The white boy on the bike revs his engine burning rubber on his back tire and once again, she goes to pull away. I tighten my hand over hers, keeping us connected. Even if in a small way.

  “Can you cut out? Just this once? Just for tonight?” I ask over the noise of the motorcycle. My eyes flicker from her to the man behind her obnoxiously interrupting our conversation and successfully cockblocking me.

  “Not the way this works, Jake.”

  “Then give me some rules. I can’t wait another two months to see you again.”

  “There are no rules. I just…”

  I run my hand up the smooth skin of her arm and settle my palm on the sensitive skin between her neck and shoulder. I sweep my thumb over the ridge of her collarbone. Chemistry, or connection, or pheromones, or something uniquely us flares to life. She lets out a barely audible sigh, but she leans forward possibly against her better judgement. Her lips brush over mine in a touch so chaste and fleeting. It’s better than every other kiss I’ve had before it. But it’s not enough. I need more.

  My fingertips find the side of her face as I go in to deepen the kiss. My tongue traces the line between her lips, dipping inside her mouth, chasing my new favorite flavor. I nip at her lips, trying to devour her. She pulls back on a shaky breath.

  “Why do I have a feeling tonight just changed everything?” She says biting the corner of her lip as she looks up at me.

  “Faith?” I try to laugh off the significance of her question, but it hangs in the air between us. As real as the moon over our heads, or the desert heat warming our skin.

  “Let me go, Jake,” she whispers. I know she means right now, but I hate the sound of those words, hate that she thinks it’s even possible to let her go.

  “No.”

  Sin smiles at that, but she entwines her fingers with mine and pulls my hand away from her face. She looks at our hands, unlacing our fingers, and she take a step back.

  “Give me something,” I say and I mean it. “A phone number would be nice, but I’ll settle for a time, a place, anything.”

  Sin drops her head forward. The long strands of her straightened hair float over her shoulder, and she bites the corner of her lip.

  “It’s 555-0108,” she finally says after what seems like a minute of silence. Her naturally raspy voice an octave lower.

  “
Is that 702?”

  “Nah.” She shakes her head. “It’s 775.” She takes a couple more steps away from me.

  “I’ll call you tonight so…”

  “Call me tomorrow. I won’t be around tonight,” she yells over her shoulder. Sin throws a leg over the bike, wrapping a loose arm around the guy’s waist, plastered to his back, as if she belongs there.

  I watch them drive off, and I blow out a frustrated breath when they hit the corner and fade out of sight.

  NOW

  Jake

  Early this morning I got bombarded with phone calls from both Connor and Jeanine. The message was pretty clear—do the interviews and clean up my mess. I knew going in it would be hard. That I would be sensitive and exposed.

  I walked into her villa, the one I booked because I thought it would be more comfortable and had the bright idea to talk to her. That conversation turned into a disaster. She’s just too set against me and everything associated with us to even try to find common ground.

  I slip back into the room unnoticed since a million different people litter the space. Housekeeping sweeps the hardwood floors and polishes all the reflective surfaces. I recognize a couple of people from the marketing department staging furniture, adding pillows and flowers to the table tops, and vacuuming the rugs. Which is overkill because I made sure shit was tight before she arrived yesterday. I wanted her to have a space that felt like her own, even if she is staying in a hotel.

  Instead of the villa looking like Sin’s private domain, it looks like the set of a promotional shoot or a playpen for the pampered and frivolous. Four-foot-tall bouquets of flowers rest on every flat surface. The sofa and the chairs have all been adorned with plush pillows, some furry, others jeweled. There’s one that has The Hotel name and emblem embroidered on it. There is even a stack of them on the floor. The only curtains that have been opened are the ones that display the Strip. There are cameras in every corner, wires crisscross the floor every couple of feet, and a large screen computer monitor has been set up on the dining table.

 

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