Tempting

by Crystal Kaswell

  When he's alone, period.

  God, I want in his head so badly I'm shaking.

  This is wrong. What if it was your journal?

  I force myself to set the book down.

  To plant on the bed.

  To cross my legs. Fold my hands. Keep my gaze on the floor.

  I shouldn't look.

  But this is the only chance I'm going to get.

  If I don't look, I'll never get inside his head.

  I'll never know what he's thinking.

  I'll never know if he's thinking about me.

  I place the book in my lap and pry it open. The first few pages are familiar tattoo mockups—Brendon always shows off his finished work. Or maybe I check the shop's Facebook religiously. Either way.

  Then there are figure drawings. More tattoo mockups. A fierce dragon defending a castle. A giant octopus destroying a sea monster. A topless mermaid sunning on a rock.

  A librarian pin up.

  Only...

  No.

  She looks like me. Same champagne blond hair. Same green eyes. Same pretty pink cardigan. Same thick blue glasses. These aren't exactly standard frames.

  And she's wearing a Mockingjay pin.

  Exactly like the one attached to my backpack.

  That's nothing. Lots of people like The Hunger Games. Even Brendon.

  There's no way he's looking at me like this.

  My heartbeat picks up.

  My breath flees my body at an alarming rate.

  I shouldn't turn the page, but I can't stop myself.

  It's that same pin up, only her cardigan is unbuttoned. Her breasts are exposed.

  In the next picture, she's lying on her back, her arms over her head, her cardigan binding her wrists.

  The next.

  That's me. Splayed out over this bed. Naked. Bound to the railing.

  I turn the page.

  Fuck.

  I suck a deep breath between my teeth.

  I press my thighs together.

  I'm on my knees, resting on my heels, looking up.

  Naked.

  Waiting.

  Hungry.

  He wants me.

  Brendon wants me.

  Chapter Eight

  Brendon

  Kaylee pushes her glasses up her nose. "I think I have everything."

  It's Tuesday morning. Our furniture date. More than twelve hours since this place officially became Kay's.

  A night on the couch didn't do shit to help with my head space.

  I'm exhausted. It lowers my inhibitions. Gets me saying all the shit I want to say to her.

  Looking at her the way I want to.

  "You have everything?" she asks.

  I nod and try to keep my eyes off her tits.

  Fuck, the way her sun dress is falling down her chest—

  I know she doesn't wear this shit to torture me. I know Emma curated half of Kaylee's wardrobe.

  But I don't see my sister's handiwork when I look at her. I don't see the kid I'm supposed to protect.

  I see long legs, lush tits, soft lips, sweet green eyes—

  I want to rip off her cotton panties.

  I want to pin her to the table and lick her until she's groaning my name.

  She's not going to stay a virgin forever.

  Someone is going to be her first.

  It should be someone she trusts.

  Someone who will make sure she comes.

  Someone who will teach her every fucking thing she needs to know.

  "You... you ready, Brendon?" She looks up at me with those soft green eyes.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  This isn't about my cock.

  Or my hands or lips or my tongue.

  Kaylee is here because her parents bailed on her. Because her grandma is sick. Because she needs someone to protect her.

  That's what I signed up for.

  There's no way I'm taking advantage of that trust.

  Yeah, this isn't how I imagined my life when I was her age. That guy would kill somebody if he knew he was going to grow up to get his furniture at Ikea.

  And, fuck, if he had any idea how much pop-rock he'd listen to on the way—

  I'm not proud of what a judgmental shit I used to be. But I did stand for something. Well, against something. Against all the bullshit my parents jammed down my throat.

  Now that I am a parent—legally, at least—I get it.

  It's hard taking care of someone. Wanting what's best for them. Trying to figure out where to draw the line.

  That doesn't excuse my mom's constant reminders that I'd never be good enough.

  But it does explain them.

  I promised myself Emma would never go through any of the shit I did. That she'd never hear that who she was or what she wanted was wrong. But fuck, it's hard. She tests my resolve all the time.

  Even Kaylee pushes my resolve.

  "Brendon? You okay?" Her voice is soft. Caring.

  "Yeah." I push myself to my feet.

  She stares at my empty coffee mug. "You're going to leave that there?"

  I nod.

  "I'm fine with that." She slides her purse onto her shoulder. The grey one with the gorilla key chain. "Really, I am."

  "Of course."

  She tries and fails to pry her eyes away. "Really?"

  I chuckle. "Not that it bothers you."

  "You're doing it on purpose."

  "Why would I do that?"

  "Cruelty." She grabs the mug, brings it to the sink, shoots me a you win look. "Why else?"

  She's adorable flustered.

  Too adorable.

  It's sending my thoughts straight to my bedroom. To her splayed out on my black sheets, wearing nothing but those glasses and that tiny turquoise cardigan.

  "Brendon?" Her fingers curl around my forearm. Her index finger slips. Traces the lines of my sleeve tattoo. "We can leave later if you have something to do."

  Yeah, I do, but it's going to take all fucking day.

  Go to my room, take off your dress, sit on the bed and wait for me.

  "And delay our three-dollar meatballs?" I force my voice to something light. "I don't think so."

  She follows me to the car. Her cheeks flush as she folds her arms over her chest. She tugs at her purse, pulling it closer. "Three dollar meatballs?"

  "Ikea."

  "Ikea?" Kaylee arches a brow. "Really?"

  I nod.

  She pushes her blue glasses up her nose. "Why?"

  "Three-dollar meatballs are enough of a reason."

  "Ew."

  "They're good. Try them." I let the back of my hand brush against her arm as I lead her to the car.

  She moves around the back and reaches for the passenger-side door. "I'll consider it."

  I unlock the car and pull the door open. "You trust me?"

  She shoots me a really look as she slides inside. "It has nothing to do with trust."

  "Nothing?"

  "Yeah, nothing." She clicks her seatbelt. Sets her purse in her lap. Plays with its strap. "No offense, Brendon, but don't you have more money than that?"

  I can't help but chuckle. "I'm a humble craftsman."

  "With a million-dollar house on the beach. Or, um, I guess I've never asked about your finances."

  "Don't. I've got it under control."

  Her lip corners turn down. "I... Did my parents offer to help you out?"

  "Yeah."

  "And?"

  "I turned them down."

  "And you can afford that?"

  "Yeah."

  She stares at me, those green eyes wide. "If you don't convince me with some numbers, I'm going to start buying groceries. And trying to cook dinner. And no wants that."

  My chest warms. Kaylee's a terrible cook. It's the only thing she isn't good at. I nod. "That's horrifying."

  "Yeah, even worse than what those assassins did to John Wick's dog."

  Fuck, it's like she's trying to drive me out of my mind.
<
br />   Kay always joins me when I watch action movies on the couch. She spends the entire time hiding behind her hands or complaining about how everyone is quick to violence, or about how the plot is incomprehensible, but she keeps watching them.

  She doesn't like the movies.

  She watches them to hang out with me.

  Fuck, I'm not stupid.

  I know she doesn't like me as a brother or a parent or a friend.

  "My parents bought this place before I was born. Mortgage is almost paid off. And it's cheap. Based on the value from nearly thirty years ago." And they had good life insurance. My dad was careful before he was anything else.

  "How cheap?"

  "I can cover it in a week of work, easy."

  "Oh. Good." She presses her lips together. "You probably know already."

  I shake my head. The Harts didn't explain much. They didn't have to. I get it.

  "They want to stay in Jersey. Permanently."

  That's a knife in my chest. I can't imagine how she feels.

  I turn the car on and pull onto the street. "I'm sorry, Kay."

  "Thanks. I... I don't know. I guess, if they gave me the choice, I probably would have stayed here. But I hate feeling like I'm not in control of my life. And I miss Grandma. She was my best friend when I was a kid. Still is."

  "You can stay as long as you want."

  "Yeah?" Her fingers skim my wrist. "That won't get in the way of your... relationships?"

  "My what?" I arch a brow.

  "You used to date a lot. Not as much lately."

  Not for the last few months, give or take. Not since she found her way into my brain.

  "I wouldn't want you to feel... deprived."

  "Deprived?"

  "You know what I mean." There's this tone to her voice. One I can't place. "You're a young guy. Prime of your life. I'm sure you want to be having fun."

  "You saying Ikea isn't fun?"

  "I don't know. We aren't there yet." She leans back in her seat. "Do you still date?"

  "Why?"

  "Don't friends talk about this kind of thing?"

  Yeah, technically. Dean and Walker brag about their conquests. Ryan... well, everyone knows where Ryan stands. "Do you date?"

  "Sometimes. You know Em and her double dates. You?"

  I can't tell her it's been awhile. That will encourage her. But I've got to say something. "There's a lot going on right now."

  "Like?"

  "This."

  "This just happened."

  "Manning is selling the shop."

  "Oh." She runs her fingertips up my arm. "Brendon, I'm sorry. Will you have to go somewhere else?"

  "Maybe. He's offering it to us first. Any of us."

  "Hmm."

  "Hmm?"

  "You only have a few years left on the mortgage. What's a few more to be the proud owner of Inked Hearts?"

  "It's Emma's house too."

  "You know she'd say yes."

  She would. She's always wanted to run her own business. This would be perfect training wheels.

  Which is why she can't know.

  I protect Emma from this kinda thing.

  I'm not sacrificing her stability.

  There's got to be another way.

  "I'll think about it," I say.

  "Lies, lies, lies." Kaylee laughs. "You've already decided."

  She knows me too well.

  "Someone at the shop will tell Emma. You really want her finding out from Dean?"

  She has a point. But I will find a way to do this without sacrificing Emma's future. Period.

  "How much cash do you have on hand?"

  "Why? You pitching a business."

  She folds her arms. "Could you buy a quarter of the company?"

  I nod.

  "You could buy it together."

  I've thought about it. A lot, actually. I could stretch to cover half the company. But if anything happened, shit would be hard.

  A quarter is safer.

  Half of me is over the moon at the idea of owning Inked Hearts with the three guys who are essentially family. The other half is screaming hell no, I don't want to be legally tied to those annoying assholes.

  Either way, I don't want her worrying. "I've got it under control."

  "You always do."

  Huh.

  There's something in her voice.

  Like she knows about my penchant for handcuffs and riding crops.

  Dean has a big mouth.

  She might know.

  It's not like I hide my tastes.

  But there's something in Kaylee's eyes.

  Something more than Dean told me this rumor.

  I shake it off.

  It doesn't matter.

  This trip is staying clean. Period. "How is your grandma?"

  "I'm not sure, really. My parents aren't giving me all the details. She seems okay. She texted me yesterday asking when I was going to write her another... never mind."

  "Another what?"

  She shakes her head. "Nothing."

  "Something."

  "No... Nothing."

  "Tell me."

  "It's embarrassing." She leans in to turn the stereo on. It's on the alternative station and it's playing some pop-rock song. "Oh, I love this one." She settles into her seat. Her eyes go to me. "Let me guess. Too polished for you?"

  "It's a crime, enjoying punk music?"

  "It's a little 1980s."

  "Arrest me."

  Her laugh dissolves the tension in the car. "Sure. But, really, Brendon, you seem more like the type to cuff someone."

  Fuck.

  She knows something.

  But my brain is skipping right over that.

  It's skipping right to handcuffs slapped over Kaylee's wrists.

  This car is way too small for how badly I want to bind her to my bed.

  New topic.

  "What is it that's embarrassing?" I ask.

  "How much you secretly love pop music."

  "In your dreams."

  She smiles. "Sounds like a waste of a dream." There's a gleam in her eyes.

  I know women.

  And I know Kay.

  She's flirting.

  What the hell?

  I take a deep breath. Turn to the road. Attempt to get my thoughts in order.

  Nothing has changed.

  I'm the guy who's supposed to protect Kay.

  Even from herself.

  That means we need a new subject.

  "Is this that band Emma is in love with?" I ask.

  "The one band?"

  "One of the bands."

  "Yeah. But it's more the lead singer and that sexy, breathy voice of his." Kaylee motions to the radio. "He sounds like he's in the middle of... you know."

  "I know?"

  "Sex."

  He does. Which means it is the band. And even though the singer does sound like he's in the middle of a fuck, this is a much safer topic than handcuffs. "You know two of the guys get their work done at Inked Hearts."

  "They do not."

  I nod then attempt to turn my attention back to the road as I take the 10 to the 405. It's a straight shot for another fifteen miles. Luckily, we're late enough into morning to skip traffic. Mostly.

  Kaylee turns toward me, her smile brightening her light eyes. "Brendon Kane, I can't believe it."

  "Yeah?"

  "You're a name dropper."

  "Didn't say a name."

  "Brendon Kane, the celebrity name dropper. Who else do you work with, oh great tattoo artist?"

  "A lot of musicians."

  "Yeah?" Her voice perks. She clears her throat, trying to play down her interest. Kaylee and Emma were obsessed with a few bands for a while. And I mean know the guys' birthdays, tattoos, and favorite foods obsessed.

  Only all those bands sound the same to me.

  "Not that you care," I tease back.

  "Yeah. Of course not." She smooths her dress. "Who was it?" When I don't respond, she motions to th
e stereo.

  "Artist client confidentiality."

  "Tease."

  Fuck yeah. "And that's a bad thing?"

  That gets her chest flushing red. She still manages to hold my gaze. "Don't make me beg."

  So much for a safe topic. There's no way I can handle her begging. Not right now.

  I turn back to the road. "What's his name?" I don't forget my regular clients' names, but I don't recall their professions either. Rock star, secretary, bartender, CEO—it's all the same to me. Skin is skin. Ink is ink. "Joel Young. He's a regular."

  Her eyes go wide, but she nods like this is no big deal.

  "And Ethan Strong. And his girlfriend."

  "A couple's tattoo?" She lets out a long sigh. "That's sweet."

  No, but it is sweet. "I could introduce you next time he comes in."

  "No way," she squeals. It's a rarity for her.

  Fuck, the things that excitement in her eyes does to me...

  I'm not going to survive the drive at this rate.

  "I'm sure he'd offer tickets," I say.

  Her eyes go wide. "Really?"

  "Backstage passes even."

  "No fucking way." Her voice rises to a squeal. She claps her hands together. "You wouldn't tease me?"

  Fuck yes. Lose the panties if you want to see how badly. "Not about this."

  "Em would kill me if I went without her."

  "So go with her."

  "But..." Kaylee turns to me. Her green eyes fix on mine. They fill with earnest affection. "You'd have to come. Or it would be too much fun. Really, Brendon. Who would complain the music is too generic?"

  "Anyone with taste."

  "Anyone who's a judgmental jerk?"

  "And your comments on Die Hard?"

  "I like Die Hard. It's that third one where it gets iffy."

  "Not that you get judgmental."

  She laughs. "Never." Kaylee leans down to place her purse on the floor. There's no frustration in her eyes. She's just happy. "What was the couple's tattoo?"

  "It wasn't. It was something for her. An in memoriam for her brother."

  She makes that aww sound. "That's sweet."

  "It was."

  "You do a lot of couple's tattoos?"

  "A handful. Would you get one?"

  "I don't know. That's a lot of commitment. One person, on your skin, forever. Would you?"

  "If it was someone I couldn't get out of my head. Someone I needed under my skin." Someone like Kay. "Yeah. I don't see how I could avoid it."

  Chapter Nine

  Brendon