The Alcove (Lavender Shores Book 7) Read online

  The Alcove

  Rosalind Abel

  Wings of Ink Publications, LLC

  Contents

  The Alcove

  About The Alcove

  Prologue - Part One

  Prologue - Part Two

  1. One

  2. Two

  3. Three

  4. Four

  5. Five

  6. Six

  7. Seven

  8. Eight

  9. Nine

  10. Ten

  11. Eleven

  12. Twelve

  13. Thirteen

  14. Fourteen

  15. Fifteen

  16. Sixteen

  17. Seventeen

  18. Eighteen

  19. Nineteen

  20. Twenty

  21. Twenty-One

  22. Twenty-Two

  23. Twenty-Three

  24. Twenty-Four

  25. Twenty-Five

  26. Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Family Trees & Lavender Shores Maps

  Family Trees & Maps

  About the Author

  Author Note

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Rosalind Abel

  The Alcove

  Rosalind Abel

  Copyright © 2018 by Rosalind Abel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Designer: AngstyG - AngstyG.com

  Main Editor: Desi Chapman

  2nd Editor: Cristina Manole

  3rd Editor: Corrine Harris

  Family Trees & Map Design: Ron Perry - rperrydesign.com

  Visit Rosalind’s Webpage: RosalindAbel.com

  Visit Lavender Shores: LavenderShores.com

  Created with Vellum

  for Agatha Frost, Lucy Lennox, and Mildred Abbott

  for having a sense of humor

  and helping us get lost from ourselves for a little while

  About The Alcove

  Jasper Getty is living his dream as the owner of the charming bookshop, Lavender Pages. For seven years, he’s enjoyed the safety and freedom to be himself, selling books by day and curling up and getting lost in novels by night. But a dark page from the past comes back to haunt Jasper as his ex begins stalking him.

  Russell Wallace hit reset on his life in Nashville and became a bodyguard after decades of living according to family expectations. But even years later, he doesn’t believe he deserves happiness. When Russell is asked to travel to the beautiful seaside town of Lavender Shores to protect a friend’s brother, he expects nothing more than a job and a paycheck.

  But Lavender Shores reveals a world Russell never imagined, and his immediate attraction to the adorably geeky Jasper complicates an already difficult job. Jolted by the memory of a shared moment and paths that crossed years ago intensifies the sparks into a bonfire of passion and hope.

  When danger comes pounding at the door, Jasper is in danger of losing his life… and his heart.

  Prologue - Part One

  Jasper

  Seven Years Ago

  “You’re a pretty little thing.” A gravelly voice breathed against my ear and fingers traveled down my spine, causing me to stiffen and suck in a breath. Before I could think of a response, the voice was back. “I have a thing for gingers.” The man tugged lightly on my ponytail.

  For a heartbeat, the moment had been hot—the stranger at my back, the feel of his body heat against my skin, the promise of sex in his voice. But arousal vanished the moment he pulled my hair.

  “Bet you used a fake ID to get in here tonight, didn’t you? Young thing like you. Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” With one hand still playing with my hair, his other moved the towel secured at my waist and squeezed my ass, pushing his fingers into the crease. “You looking for a daddy tonight? Want to make your daddy feel good?”

  My throat constricted, stealing my answer, but I managed to shake my head as I stepped away from him. Not that there was anywhere to go with my bare chest pressed against the cool of the lockers.

  Both his touch and his response hesitated, but after a second, fingers started to slip under the edge of the towel. “Come on. Make Daddy happy.”

  “No.” My voice burst from me and I shook my head again, hard enough that I yanked my ponytail free of his grip. “No, thank you.”

  His hands fell away instantly. Though I didn’t turn around, I could feel him step away. “Fine. No need to be a bitch about it.” The deep rumble had left his voice.

  At the sound of his bare feet retreating across the tile floor, I dared to look over. The man was bald, a monster of muscles, and tattoos covered his back.

  Relief flooded through me and I let out a shaky breath, but an instant later it was chased by regret as the man disappeared around the darkened corner. Maybe I should’ve said yes. That’s why I’d come to the Male Box.

  I just hadn’t expected it so quickly. I’d barely gotten naked and placed my folded clothes in the locker when the man started touching me. I panicked. But again, that’s why I had come to a bathhouse. To have a stranger touch me.

  Whatever. No matter the reason I’d come, daddy role-playing wasn’t on the list. If that was my only option, I might as well leave.

  The thought brought some relief. I could leave. Put my clothes back on and rush out the door, back into the warm, Tennessee evening.

  But then what? Order in pizza and watch a movie by myself?

  No. I’d come here to celebrate. After five years, I was free. Finally free. Neal was behind bars, the nightmare was over, and I was safe. That called for more than pizza and a movie. Even more than a long bubble bath and falling asleep to a good book. It called for a celebration. And in a bathhouse, it didn’t matter that after those five years, I didn’t have any friends remaining to celebrate with. I’d find a stranger. A beautiful, sexy stranger and we’d celebrate it any way we wanted.

  As long as he didn’t want me to pretend he was my daddy.

  With another glance around the locker room to assure myself I was alone, I shook off the effects of the tattooed guy. He’d probably been harmless. I just hadn’t been prepared. I readjusted my towel, secured it tighter a few inches below my navel, and then considered the condoms that had been provided with the locker.

  I left them where they were. Just because I’d come for a hot time didn’t mean I had to have full-blown fucking. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that much celebration. Still, if I changed my mind, I could come back and get them.

  After taking off my glasses, I put them beside the condoms. I shut the locker door, clicked the lock, and slipped the key on the elastic band around my ankle, then turned to leave the locker room. Time to find that beautiful, sexy stranger.

  And after… I could still do a bubble bath and finish with a good book. I was nearly done with Nora Roberts’ latest. That would be a good way to finish the night.

  Though it felt like my heart was going to pound out of my chest as I explored the nooks and crannies of the Male Box, with every passing step, each heartbeat slowly transitioned from fear back to excitement.

  While I’d never been to a bathhouse, I’d seen enough videos online that I wasn’t completely unprepared for what I found—which was rather disappointing. The ones I’d seen from LA to New York were… well… exactly what you’d expect from LA and New York. Filled with model-perfect men cavorting through rooms that looked like movie sets. Or porn sets, more accurately.

  From the online reviews, I knew not to expect
high standards from the Male Box. Not surprising. Nashville, Tennessee, wouldn’t be home to the best gay bathhouse in the world.

  Still, the longer I was there, the better it seemed. From the outside the building looked small—about the size of two Taco Bells stuck together. But by some magic, the twists and turns kept going, taking me ever deeper. The narrow hallway glowed in a dim red light.

  Despite occasionally having to turn sideways to pass another man in the hallway—as our bare arms, chests, and stomachs grazed and our eyes met, held, then looked away—the place was far from packed. I wasn’t sure if that was because it was a Wednesday evening or because we were in the middle of Nashville. Either way, the place had enough of an assortment of men. I could find someone I wanted and who wanted me. Surely.

  Several of the rooms I looked in, those filled with bare mattresses, gym equipment, and large-screen TVs playing vintage porn, were empty.

  The perimeter of the one after the porn room was lined with tall narrow dividers, splitting the wall into what looked like voting booths, complete with curtains to close off the partitions. Despite having seen the videos online, I didn’t realize what the room was until I noticed one of the booths close to me where the curtain had been drawn. An older man was on his knees, servicing a massive erection that protruded from a cutout connecting the adjoining booth.

  Glory holes.

  I nearly laughed. It shouldn’t have taken me so long to realize where I was. As soon as I did, I noticed all the pairs of feet sticking out from below curtains and beside most of them were hands on knees sticking out from the adjoining curtains. It was a popular room. I stepped a little farther inside, tempted. There was one booth, curtains open, with a massive cock protruding through the hole, waiting.

  Waiting for me?

  I took a couple of steps toward it. Enough that I could see the appendage clearly in the dim lighting, even without my glasses. The penis was beautiful. Thick and long. Heavy balls. Below the partition, furry calves showed and gave way to large feet, one of which was tapping along to the thundering techno beat that filled the bathhouse. It was almost cute, that tapping foot. Who the hell foot-tapped to techno? Although, that tapping caused the cock to do an alluring dance of its own.

  I took a couple more steps, entered the narrow booth, and reached for the temptingly jiggling cock.

  My hands stopped less than an inch away. A wave of loneliness crashed over me.

  Not a new sensation. Not even close.

  Feeling like a literal cocktease, I withdrew my hand, squeezed out of the booth, and hurried out of the room. I hadn’t been sure exactly what I would find at the Male Box, but if it left me feeling lonely, then I wasn’t interested.

  I wasn’t looking for love, and sure as fuck wasn’t looking for a relationship. Didn’t need one of those again for a very, very long time. If ever.

  But I wanted more than just to service a floating dick with God-only-knew-who attached on the other side.

  The bubble bath and book were sounding better every moment.

  I kept going. Just in case.

  Another twist in the hallway and a sweat-covered glass door revealed the steam room. I stepped inside. The smell of mildew nearly caused me to gag, and I peered into the growing darkness. This room had faint purple lighting reflecting through the steam. It did little to illuminate anything. I couldn’t tell how large or small the room was, but I thought I could make out a tile-covered bench nearby. From the sound of it, this room was also popular. Multiple low voices groaned in pleasure, and there was a smack of flesh. Narrowing my eyes further, they adjusted slowly, and I could make out a silhouetted group of men. There were at least four of them, possibly more.

  I thought one of their hands motioned me forward, but I couldn’t tell. Again, I was tempted. That didn’t look lonely. Although, a little too much, too fast. It was one thing to see such activities on the computer, quite another to dive out of a long-term monogamous relationship into the arms of multiple sweating men.

  Once in the hallway, my skin chilled after the heat of the steam room. I’d check a few more places. If nothing looked good, maybe I’d come back to that. Maybe. I wasn’t in a long-term, monogamous relationship anymore. Thank God. Maybe countless sweaty men, in the dark surrounding me, were exactly what I needed.

  I found the bald, tattooed guy in the next room. A sling hung in the center, occupied by a waifish blond young man. He could have been my twin if he traded his long flowing blond hair for a red ponytail. His head was thrown back, his mouth open wide as he grunted loudly while the bald man used the chains of the sling to build a punishing rhythm as he fucked him.

  Noticing me, a wicked smile grew on the tattooed man’s surprisingly handsome face as he continued to pound the blond. “Come on in, Red. Feed Blondie here your cock. When I’m done fucking him, I’ll do you next.”

  Nope.

  Nope. Nope. Nope.

  Maybe if he’d said it in any other tone I would’ve taken him up on it. The scene was hot. But I was done being told what to do. Absolutely done.

  After making my escape, I glanced back toward the steam room door, then continued down the hallway. Only two rooms left.

  This was going to be a bust. So much for my celebration of freedom and liberty.

  The next room was complete darkness. And from the sounds, it wasn’t empty. I barely did more than stick my head in before pulling back out and moving away.

  One final room. Another glass door. One that led into a sauna. I’d peek in, just so I could say I’d seen it all and go home.

  I put my hand on the door and changed my mind. After this, I’d go back to the steam room. Back to the group of men, however many there were. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what I’d wanted, or exactly what I was comfortable with, but I’d come here to not only celebrate but to turn the page on my life. On my actual life, not just another page in a book.

  I thought I knew what I wanted that new life to look like, at least partly. And I knew my days in Nashville were numbered. While I didn’t envision my future being filled with bathhouse pleasures, I wasn’t going to close myself off to any experiences, not anymore. So I was going to make the most of what the Male Box had to offer and make myself enjoy it, dammit.

  The blurry vision of steam-room group sex dissipated the second I walked into the sauna. Though I hadn’t been able to articulate it, this was what I wanted. Even with the lighting still dim, every inch of space was covered in glowing cedar planks, and while the air was thick and hot, it wasn’t suffocating. More of a pleasant, safe feeling somehow.

  Yes. This would do. Even if I was simply in here alone for a while and ended up jerking myself off. That was fine.

  A quiet squeak of shifting wood sounded to my right, and I realized this room too, wove around. Cautiously, I walked in farther so I could see past the corner—and I saw him. The reason I had come. Just as surely as the presence of the bald guy had felt instantly wrong, my first glimpse of this man, though slightly blurry without my glasses, felt right.

  He sat on the lower level of the wooden benches that ran around the wall of the sauna. A towel thrown over his lap, its dampness clinging to his thick, muscular thighs and displaying a significant bulge, before revealing the taut tan skin of rock-hard abs and a massive hairy chest. His tree-trunk arms were spread over the upper bench as he reclined. With his eyes closed, he allowed me the privacy to inspect. His face was clean-shaven, showcasing a wide, chiseled jaw, dark, heavy eyebrows, and thick, deep brown hair swept over his forehead.

  My older brother was the quarterback for the Tennessee Titans, and from the looks of this man, I wondered if he might be a teammate. There was no doubt, from his long legs, that he was over six foot, and from his girth, he might be a linebacker.

  I studied him a little closer, just to be sure. I had no great affinity for sports, but I adored my brother and knew every one of his teammates. The last thing I would ever do would be to cause him problems. And having a random hookup with one of his tea
mmates would most definitely cause problems.

  I wished I’d brought my glasses. The man was just blurry enough I couldn’t tell. A couple more steps forward clarified the man’s features. My last step betrayed me as it creaked.

  The man’s eyes shot open, and his relaxed posture transitioned to warrior mode in a flash. He stood, fists clenched in front of him, as his towel fell to the floor.

  I took a step back, startled.

  Startled, but not afraid. Fear should have been my instant response. I was hardly quarterback material and weighed a hundred and fifty pounds dripping wet. The man towered over me, and from the looks of him, he could have broken me in half with one hand while casually drinking a beer with the other. Despite myself, I couldn’t keep my gaze from traveling down his body. The towel hadn’t lied. Even soft, his uncut cock matched the rest of his huge, spectacular body.

  Forcing my gaze up to his, I lifted my hands. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you.”

  He studied me for a second, those brown eyes intense and hard. Then they softened, along with the rest of him. His muscles relaxed, his fists falling to his sides. “No. I’m the one who’s sorry. Guess I was completely zoned out.” His voice was low, like the bald guy’s had been. However, his was warm, soft.

  Somehow, in his relaxed state, his endless, thick planes of muscles were even more apparent. I dared to glance down him once more. He was probably fifteen to twenty years older than me, but without a doubt, the sexiest man I’d ever seen in real life.