Dangerous Temptation (Dark Dream 1)

I blinked when I emerged into the light at the bottom of the stairs.

A massive room laid with black mats sprawled out in front of me, filled with endless fitness equipment and a small boxing ring. My eyes snagged on Brando’s bright hair where he leaned against the ropes to the ring, shouting his approval as two men boxed within.

One of them was Ezra, his great, hulking body tensed to fight as he faced off with his opponent.

Tiernan.

My mouth went dry as I gaped at the man I was supposed to think of as some kind of father figure. He was barechested, his torso gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat that made him seem like a golden statue come to life. The long hair over the crown of his head was wet and dangling across his brow, catching in his eyelashes as he ducked a powerful punch, then sprung up to deliver his own hit to Ezra’s low left side. There were black boxing gloves on his hands, and black shorts slung precariously low on his narrow hips, revealing the top of his shorn pubic hair and a glimpse of that unknown tattoo.

My God, it should be criminal for such an asshole to be so outrageously sexy.

“Brando, what are you doing down here?” I demanded as I unstuck my feet and went to my little brother, gently untangling his hands from the ropes.

He frowned up at me. “Not now, Anca. Ezra and Tiernanny are fighting and I’ve got money on the match!”

“Excuse me?” I blinked, shocked that Brando even knew what putting money on a match meant.

He grinned at me and held up a fistful of crisp twenty-dollar bills. “Tiernan said it’s my allowance, so I can do what I want with it. I put ten dollars on him ’cause Henrik said Ezra was gonna win.”

I looked up and over at the man who was lifting weights in the corner of the room. He looked like a real-life Mr. Clean, his bald head shining under the lights, muscles bulging as he curled some impossible weight.

“Get him!” Brando yelled in excitement, leaning into the rope so heavily, he almost fell through.

I carted him upright, my eyes swinging back to the action in the ring. Tiernan’s face was a stone edifice, utterly impassible but for the burning eyes that tracked every movement Ezra made and calculated the best plan of attack. I watched as he let Ezra come at him, swinging punch after brutal punch that Tiernan was forced to duck or block. It was hard not to wince, thinking that it was only a matter of time before one of those heavy blows landed.

It seemed clear he was outmatched by the bigger man.

But then, a tiny, curling little grin claimed that scarred mouth, and a second later, Tiernan sprung into action.

My mouth dropped open and my breath arrested in my lungs as I watched him finally attack his opponent. He flew around the ring, weaving and lunging gracefully, so light on his feet he seemed to float even while his arms lashed out powerfully to deliver hit after hit against Ezra, most of them landing despite the other man’s attempts to block him. Regardless of my hatred for him, it was impossible not to note how glorious he was like that, spinning and darting violently, sinuously around the ring, so formidable, so self-assured. The entire time, that little, menacing grin furled the left side of his mouth.

Joy.

That’s what it was.

The first time I’d seen it truly expressed on Tiernan’s face.

That, even more than the gorgeousness of his lean, corded muscles flexing under all that golden, tattooed skin held me utterly in thrall.

It ended quickly, Tiernan’s leg darting out to trip Ezra’s weight into an unsteady stagger and then the punishing move, taking the large man to his back on the ground. Tiernan pinned his arms to the floor with his knees and cocked his right arm back to finish him off.

“Stop!” I cried out, unable to bear watching the kind, gentle man who’d saved Brando and me from the CPS agent get knocked out.

Tiernan paused, his chest heaving, sweat dripping off the tip of his strong nose, the ends of his wet hair. I could see his muscles quivering with the effort to harness his momentum. Finally, he turned his head so that those blazing pale eyes found mine.

“Afraid of a little violence, little girl?” he asked, cocking one eyebrow.

“Afraid the wrong man is winning,” I countered, raising my own brow haughtily.

Henrik’s laughter floated over to us, but I was too mired in Tiernan’s sticky gaze to look over at him as he spoke.

“If the right man always won, Tiernan would be dead already,” he joked, arriving at Brando’s side.

“Technically, Tiernan won,” Brando argued with him, holding out his empty palm. “Cough it up, mister.”