Dangerous Temptation (Dark Dream 1)

Brando sat on the island with his legs crossed, Iron Man beside him, a huge bowl in his lap that he stirred with a wooden spoon.

“Anca!” he cried on the tail end of his laughter. His arm arched wide, still clutching the wooden spoon so that some kind of batter flung from the end and splattered over the cabinets. “We’re making pancakes.”

I smiled at him automatically, but couldn’t pry my eyes from Tiernan at a messy stovetop with a flipper in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. It was clear he’d been roped into breakfast on his way to or from some business meeting because he wore one of those expensive black suits that perfectly skimmed every powerful inch of his frame. As a concession to the task at hand, he’d lost the suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves on his white dress shirt to reveal thickly corded forearms dusted in black hair and blacker tattoos.

My brain struggled to make sense of the cruel man in such a domestic setting and failed. He’d always been good to Brando, certainly kinder to him than he was with me, but this was new territory completely. Coupled with the knowledge Tilda had imparted yesterday about him being beaten as a child, I couldn’t stop the way the sight of him like that opened something up inside of me like a key in a lock. I shivered slightly, terrified of letting him in, but unable to help my burgeoning desire for exactly that.

Apparently, I was a masochist.

“He told me it’s his birthday,” Tiernan admitted with something like a grimace. “Apparently, it was the least I could do because I didn’t get him a present.”

When my eyes shot to Brando, his own were wide with faux innocence. He grinned at me, showing a large gap where he was still missing his right front tooth.

“Uh, yeah, well, it was,” he admitted shyly. “Four months ago.”

“Brando,” I admonished, but the scold held no weight because I was laughing at the look of shocked annoyance that flickered across Tiernan’s face. “You should absolutely not lie like that.”

“Well,” he reasoned, “I really wanted pancakes.”

Behind me, laughter erupted.

I looked over my shoulder, giggling too, to see Walcott and Patsy in the doorway, struggling to contain their mirth.

Tiernan scowled at them, which only made me laugh harder. I pressed a hand to my aching abs as I struggled to catch my breath. “Oh my gosh, that is too good.”

“I have no doubt who taught him how to use his charm like that,” Tiernan growled at me as he pressed the dirty pancake flipper into my chest, forcing me to grab it.

Melted remnants of the chocolate chips in the batter smeared across my new white sports bra. I choked on my laughter when Tiernan dipped his thumb in the mess and brought it to his mouth, sucking it off with his gaze hooked through my own.

Suddenly, I couldn’t remember what had been funny in the first place.

“See, Tiernan likes pancakes too,” Brando pointed out.

Dark delight moved through those peridot eyes as Tiernan sucked hard on his thumb, lips too pink and full. Unbidden, I imagined what they might look like suctioned around my nipple. If he would suck too hard, bite too harshly. If he’d leave pleasure like a wound.

“I’ll take over, Mr. M—”

“Yes,” he interrupted Patsy. “Please do.”

“You don’t want to make them with me?” Brando asked, his voice a sweet, high psalm.

Tiernan hesitated for just a beat, a tightening of his jaw, before he shook his head. “No, Brandon, I have work to do.”

We both watched as my little brother’s lower lip quivered before he bit down to hold it still. His eyes dropped into the bowl of remaining batter as he whispered, “Okay.”

My heart ached for him.

He’d lost his mother and his father and having me just wasn’t enough. He was a social, loving kid. He yearned for connection, especially in the wake of Aida’s death when we both felt cast adrift, isolated because of the simple fact that we had no one left to love us.

“I can help you, Brandy Boy,” I promised him, stepping in front of Tiernan deliberately before I walked over to my brother and bopped him on the nose. “I’ll even put in extra chocolate chips.”

Brando nodded, his curls veiling his face as he continued to stir the batter despondently. Behind me, the only signal that Tiernan had left was the brisk clip of his dress shoes over the slate floors. I wrapped my arms about around Brando, two fingers sliding gently against the pulse in his neck so I could count the beats. It helped dissipate the anger I felt at Tiernan for disappointing a little kid because he was too much of an asshole to take fifteen minutes for pancakes.