Painted on My Heart
By Kindle Alexander
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: Coming Soon
Artist Kellus
Hardin let love and loyalty cloud his past decisions, a mistake he definitely
won’t make again. Now, lost and alone, he’s left to pick up the shattered
pieces of his broken heart while facing the truth of his reality.
Arik Layne
exudes power, confidence, and determination. But when an encounter with the
guarded artist shakes him to the core and alters all his future goals, he finds
more than just his heart on the line.
For Kellus,
opening himself to love isn’t an option.
All Arik wants
is to make the artist his.
Can love create
a masterpiece when it’s painted on your heart?
Chapter 1
The shrill ring of his phone should have
startled him awake, but Kellus Hardin was just too damn tired to do much more
than roll in the direction of the irritating sound and throw a hand out to
half-ass search around his mattress for the device. When he came up empty
handed, he managed to turn the other way and do the same. By the time his
exhausted sleep-hazed brain identified the phone wasn’t anywhere around him, he
heard the chirp indicating a voice mail. He cracked an eyelid and lifted his
head enough to look over at the alarm clock. Four thirty in the morning.
Seriously? Nothing good could come from a call that time of night. He collapsed
back to the bed with an annoyed groan. He’d been asleep less than an hour after
working the fifteen before on the pieces he had due for the art gallery
opening.
“Fuck,” he growled out, turning over again.
He tucked a soft pillow into his side and decided he’d deal with that call in
the morning. His exhausted state gave a solid thumbs-up on the plan, and he
easily drifted back to sleep. What had to be a mere second later, the ringing
started again. Stupid cell phone.
Kellus threw the covers away from his body
and darted off the bed, angrier than he’d been in a very long time. He was
fucking tired—tired of his fucked-up life and tired of this motherfucker who
wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone.
Fuck!
With a vengeance, he zeroed in on the
location of the noise. He marched to his laundry basket by the bedroom door and
began tearing through the clothes to find the stupid phone, no doubt still
inside his paint-spattered coveralls where he’d dropped it not fifty-three
minutes ago before he’d finally managed to crawl into bed.
Palming the device, he glared at the caller
ID. John. Of course. Who else would call in the middle of the fucking night?
“What?” he shouted as he connected the call.
“Come get him.” A deep masculine voice with a
Spanish accent had him pulling the phone from his ear to look down at the
screen in confusion.
Wait. Great. Even fucking better—John’s
dealer.
“No,” he said firmly as he stood tall and
fisted his free hand at his side. His chest bowed in defiance as if the guy on
the other end of the phone were right there in his darkened bedroom. “You give
him that shit, you deal with him.”
The harsh laugh on the other end of the line
held what might have been genuine amusement. “I deal with him and it won’t end
well.” The line went dead. Kellus shoved his fingers through his hair to help
push the long strands out of his eyes.
“Fuck!” he bellowed to the empty room,
spinning in a complete circle, gripping his phone in his hand and punching his
fist through the air. Thank God he was alone, because if anybody had witnessed
that little outburst he’d have been carted off to the nearest mental facility.
He was just so fucking sick and tired of being sick and tired.
Breath heaving as anger and dread coursed
through his veins, Kellus stood there, staring absently at his bed. The fatigue
of the day settled heavy on his shoulders. He had responsibilities. He couldn’t
take on more of John’s bullshit. He jammed the heels of his palms against his
tired eyes and released an exhausted sigh. After so many hours holding a brush
for the fine details of his painting, his hands cramped with the movement, and
the muscles in his neck and back protested the long hours he’d put in today. He
needed sleep. More than the fifty-three minutes he’d gotten.
“I’m not fucking doing this again. I warned
him the last time. I made it clear. No more!” Kellus sliced the hand still
holding his cell through the air with finality. With that decision made, he
stalked across the room and tossed his phone on the nightstand. He climbed back
in his bed, whipping the covers over his exhausted body.
He hadn’t heard from John in six days.
Six glorious, productive, happy days.
Staring up at the ceiling, unable to get his
mind to shut off, he told himself he’d made the right decision. John needed to
stay away. Kellus forced his eyelids closed. At this point, he’d still get a
few good hours sleep before he had to start his day. The longer he lay there,
the more guilt crept in.
It always did.
Images of his best friend came to mind.
Happier times. Memories of his and John’s younger days and all the trouble
they’d managed to get into. Those thoughts actually calmed his breathing. His
mind drifted to the summer of their senior year. He hadn’t thought about that
time in so long. He and John had gone to the lake with some friends. A healthy,
glowing, handsome John had teased him unmercifully until he had finally agreed
to skinny dip…
“Fuck!” Kellus whipped off the covers and
rose, angry and worried.
He couldn’t leave John in that place.
Kellus stopped dead center in his bedroom,
fuming; he was so pissed at himself, at his own indecision, at John. What the
fuck was wrong with him? John had destroyed both their lives, shit on him over
and over with absolutely no regard for his feelings whatsoever. He’d lost
everything because of John. He swore he’d never do this again.
But he couldn’t leave John there.
Not there.
Dejected, Kellus ran a frustrated hand over
his face, sighed, then went for his closet to dress.
~~~
Topping out at max speed, Arik Layne flew
down the Dallas North Tollway. Being the only one on the highway might have
been the only benefit of flying home in the middle of the night from his Escape
Del Mar property.
God, he was past exhausted.
Less than five minutes later, Arik parked and
wearily made his way through the private entrance of his downtown Dallas
high-rise, shrugging out of his hand-tailored suit jacket before he reached the
elevator. At the elevator, he tossed the garment over his arm and entered his
exclusive security code into the wall-mounted keypad, effectively locking the
car for his personal use. The doors opened immediately. The technology didn’t
require him to do anything more than step inside before the doors closed and
the overhead floor-indicator light displayed each passing floor, a soft ding
sounding repeatedly as he traveled non-stop up the forty or so floors to his
penthouse. Arik rested against the back wall, forcing a finger into the knot of
his necktie to loosen its tight hold. He then removed each cuff link at his
wrist and absently dropped them into his slacks pockets. The more he removed
now, the faster he could hit his perfect Vera Wang mattress and shut his tired
eyes.
The entire building was quiet. Another
benefit to relocating to this area. Well, sort of. Dallas as a whole was
quieter than any place he’d ever lived. He walked the few steps to his front
door, pulling out his wallet to wave in front of the security pad when the
doors didn’t unlock at his arrival. Strangely, the key card inside his wallet
didn’t trigger the lock to release. Arik let out a yawn as he entered his code
into the attached keypad. He’d have to remember to check his card in the
morning.
The overhead lights automatically lit as he
entered his front door, and the motion sensors continued lighting his way the
deeper he ventured inside his home. Arik absently tossed his suit jacket on a
chair in the living room, never straying from the direct path to his bedroom.
He pulled his shirttails from his slacks, his level of sheer exhaustion rising
with each step he took. Honestly, that had to be the only reason he didn’t
register the glow of lights coming from underneath the closed door until he’d already
turned the handle.
“What the fuck?” His heart almost leaped out
of his chest when he stepped inside his bedroom to find someone sprawled across
his bed in what probably qualified as a seductive pose. Recognition took
another second to seep in.
“Surprise!” A small pop sounded and confetti
flew into the air, scattering across his bed.
Arik’s brows snapped together. Oh hell no. He
loved that bed.
“What the hell are you doing?” Arik asked as
he moved farther inside the room. He registered the slight look of indignation
and the flip of that long, black, silky hair before Boy Toy’s face morphed
again into a pleasant smile.
“I came to surprise you.” BT wiggled his sexy
ass and gave a cheeky little smile.
Even as tired and annoyed as he was, Arik
experienced a stir below his belt. He was human after all, and this particular
BT was especially skilled. He stopped at his dresser, reached inside his front
slacks pockets and casually tossed the contents on the small tray. He didn’t
like surprises of any kind, and BT, short for boy toy number one hundred
and—hell, he’d lost count of the willing men he’d bedded—had just shocked the
hell out of him.
This one was way too pretty and so
deliciously tempting that for a split second he almost gave in…almost.
No, he had to stay firm. This was utter
bullshit. He couldn’t have random BTs breaking into his home, surprising him at
every turn, desecrating his perfect bed with confetti.
“How did you get in here?” he asked, leaning
against the dresser, casually crossing his arms over his chest.
“I’ve been planning this since you left me
last week. I swiped your card from your wallet when you were in the shower.”
Boy Toy lost the erotic pose, probably too much strain for his delicate body.
“I guess I need to keep a closer eye on my
wallet in the future.” Arik shoved away from the dresser and headed toward his
closet.
“I’m beginning to think you’re not happy that
I’m here. You know I’d look good on your arm for the opening of Escape Dallas.”
BT hopped up from the bed and trailed after him, following him into the closet.
“Are these your things?” he asked, nodding
toward the garment bag hanging in his closet with luggage settled beneath.
Arik’s things had been pushed aside and replaced with BT’s, as if the guy
planned to stay awhile. First the bed, now the closet. He didn’t allow anyone
to breach his private space. That crossed every line he had.
Fuck, he’d known when he first saw this guy
he’d be trouble. The gorgeous ones always were. Arik shook his head.
“Yes, I put them next to yours. I arrived
late and didn’t have time to unpack.”
Arik abandoned his silk tie on the built-in
dresser and began to grab BT’s things. The level of pissed off coursing through
him now superseded any desire he might have mustered.
“You can’t ever do this again. I told you
from the beginning,” Arik said, shoving the garment bag toward BT as he went
for the two suitcases, then he tossed the strap of one over his shoulder and
grabbed the other by the handgrip. How long had he even planned to stay that he
needed all this?
“Be careful with that. It’s got my mink
inside!” BT carefully draped the bag over his arm, allowing Arik to take him by
his other arm and forcefully guide him from the closet.
“Why in the hell would you bring a fur coat
to Texas?” Arik kept his grip tight, even when BT tried to worm his way out.
“Why would I leave home without… What are you
doing?” BT actually held on to the doorframe to keep Arik from removing him
from the bedroom.
“You’re going to the guest room, BT. We’ll
talk—”
A solid outraged screech cut him off.
“Stop calling me that! I hate that. I have a
name.” The guy went into full-on diva mode right there in the middle of his
hall.
“You’ve known the deal from the beginning. I
don’t like these kinds of surprises. I was very clear,” Arik said. When he
realized it might take two hands to deposit BT into the guest bedroom, he went
for that door, pushed it open wide, and tossed the suitcase in his hand across
the room. For a second there, he’d thought the guy planned to go back to Arik’s
bedroom which would have turned things pretty shitty real quick. Luckily, BT
came toward him with a very calm, patient look on his face.
“If you would just go with it, we could have
a very special relationship,” BT said, placing a delicate hand on Arik's dress
shirt, letting his fingers trail down Arik’s chest as he took a step closer.
“I’m good at attending events with you. I look good on your arm. Besides, I’m
tired of modeling. It takes up so much of my time. And if we came to some sort
of arrangement, with all my extra free time, I could take care of you any way
you saw fit.”
“Not gonna happen.”
BT’s words couldn’t have been better
deterrent for giving in and indulging in a quick hook-up. Arik preferred his
fun with no strings attached. Not that he had anything against the whole
finding Mr. Right concept. But the boy toy currently groping his ass was not
anywhere close to his idea of relationship material. Arik stopped the hand at
his waistband and shrugged the case off his shoulder, dumping it right inside
the guest bedroom door. He left the gorgeous but clearly crazy man standing
there as he headed back toward his bedroom.
“I need to leave here by eight in the
morning. Be ready.’’
“Seriously? You’re just leaving? I stretched
myself to be ready for you.”
Arik looked back to see BT stomp his foot for
good measure, his now flaccid dick swinging in the process. BT was certainly beautifully
put together, tall, lean, chiseled abs, a perfect body that Arik knew from past
experience could bring a lot of pleasure.
No, Arik. That was how he’d gotten in this
situation in the first place. Stop. No. Walk away.
“Goodnight, BT. Don’t come back to my room,”
he said at the door.
“Stop calling me BT! I’m not just your boy
toy! My name is Steffan.”
Steffan—yeah, he remembered that now. Steffan
twirled around and stalked into the guest bedroom, that long hair floating out
around him. The door slammed shut in his wake.
Arik closed his door and reached down to
twist the lock when he heard something crashing against the guest room door.
Arik chuckled at that one and quickly opened his door again.
“Be ready by eight in the morning. I won’t be
happy if you make me late,” he yelled before closing and relocking the door.
He staggered to the bed. His bed. Even with
taking the time to rid the bedspread of the confetti and change the pillowcases
where that overly strong cologne lingered, he’d still, hopefully, get at least
a couple hours’ sleep.
Best Selling
Author Kindle Alexander is an innovative writer, and a genre-crosser who writes
classic fantasy, romance, suspense, and erotica in both the male/male and
male/female genres. It's always a surprise to see what's coming next!
I live in the
suburbs of Dallas where it's true, the only thing bigger than an over active
imagination, may be women's hair!
Usually, I try
for funny. Humor is a major part of my life - I love to laugh, and it seems to
be the thing I do in most situations - regardless of the situation, but jokes
are a tricky deal... I don't want to offend anyone and jokes tend to offend. So
instead I'm going to tell you about Kindle.
I tragically
lost my sixteen-year-old daughter to a drunk driver. She had just been at home,
it was early in the night and I heard the accident happen. I'll never forget
that moment. The sirens were immediate and something inside me just knew. I
left my house, drove straight to the accident on nothing more than instinct. I
got to be there when my little girl died - weirdly, I consider that a true gift
from above. She didn't have to be alone.
That time in my
life was terrible. It's everything you think it would be times about a billion.
I love that kid. I loved being her mother and I loved watching her grow into
this incredibly beautiful person, both inside and out. She was such a gift to
me. To have it all ripped away so suddenly broke me.
Her name was
Kindle. Honest to goodness - it was her name and she died a few weeks before
Amazon released their brand-new Kindle ereader. She had no idea it was coming
out and she would have finally gotten her name on something! Try finding a
ruler with the name Kindle on it.. It never happened.
Through the
course of that crippling event I was lucky enough to begin to write with a dear
friend in the fan fiction world of Facebook. She got me through those dark days
with her unwavering support and friendship. There wasn't a time she wasn't
there for me. Sometimes together and sometimes by myself, we built a world
where Kindle lives and stands for peace, love and harmony. It's its own kind of
support group. I know without question I wouldn't be here today without her.
Find out more by
visiting www.kindlealexander.com or email me at kindle@kindlealexander.com
very well
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