Ken was caressing his arm now, a comforting, almost absent gesture that sent a blast of focused heat down his spine and straight to his cock. It was making it hard for Brady to breathe, but he couldn’t force himself to move away.
“Seamus won’t admit it,” Ken said, “but he got a kick out of you reading the riot act to Owen. His twin might be a stuffy politician, but our bartender has a wild side. He’s just too busy being Super Dad to let it out.”
Brady grinned wryly. “Stephen isn’t that stuffy.”
“I am well aware.” Ken’s voice was a seduction. “I’ve seen Tasha in action at the club for years, and for weeks I’ve been seeing her glowing newlywed smile and their PDAs in the paper. No true vanilla could keep up with that sassy switch and make her as happy as he does.”
Brady tensed in reaction and Ken’s hand fell away. “I don’t think I’m recovered enough to think about what my cousin can or can’t keep up with. And you know I had my fill of BDSM buzz words at Burke’s kinky party of the damned. I wanted to bleach my brain for weeks to forget it all—including the fact that vanilla refers to something other than a cool, delicious flavor of ice cream.”
“You wanted to forget everything?”
Brady looked down at his hands. Not everything, but he wasn’t recovered enough to think about that either.
It had been a strange experience. Playing Senator Stephen Finn’s bodyguard for the federal investigation into Burke’s illegal activities was a little too eye-opening for Brady’s peace of mind. At least the sight of naked men voluntarily being strapped to crosses and women wagging their furry tails as they drank from a dish on the floor had shocked him out of his own head. He would be grateful if he could stop cringing every time he thought about it.
Kink was not his scene.
It was, however, Ken’s. Seeing him at Burke’s house, watching the way everyone looked to him for approval and how expertly he worked those ropes, had made it clear he was in his element.
It had also gotten Brady so hard he’d had to walk away more than once to recover his composure. The one time he couldn’t, Ken had kissed him, and it had been better than the best sex he’d ever had—which was sad when he let himself think about it.
But not even the intense chemistry between them would get Brady to date a man who considered pain and bondage a form of foreplay. Being tied up wasn’t sexy; it was a training exercise in surviving interrogation and torture.
Brady still had no idea what had happened after his pub speech. A smart man wouldn’t ask. A smart man would find his clothes and leave as fast as his hangover would let him.
Brady clearly wasn’t that smart.
He turned his head to stare into golden eyes that were far too close for comfort. “Why am I here, Tanaka? Tell me the truth.”
Ken’s gaze dropped to his mouth. “Truth? You’re here because Seamus is an easy mark, so the room behind the pub—the room Jen stayed in until she went back to college—is occupied for the next two weeks. Knowing him, it’s probably another damsel in distress. Let’s just hope she doesn’t have a child in need of adopting. Seamus already has a full house.”
He vaguely recalled it now. Seamus felt so guilty for not being able to help Brady right away that he’d offered him a drink on the house. And then another.
“Since you couldn’t crash there, you had to start thinking about other options. You told me about your situation and I offered you a place to stay in exchange for your services.”
And Brady had agreed? To live with Ken? He’d actually thought that was a good idea? Talk about impaired decision-making skills.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Brady gathered the sheet and stood up, away from temptation. “I have options. A few of them include couches I can sleep on free of charge until I find a place of my own.”
Ken stood as he did, his arms crossed over his bare chest, drawing Brady’s gaze to the silver cross that hung from an overlong chain around his neck. Had he seen that before? He didn’t think so.
“I know about your options, Finn. Five brothers and a father who’d all be willing to let you stay with them as long as you started acting like yourself again and rejoined the police force. As long as you told exciting war stories while pretending your years in the military hadn’t changed you.”
“Wow.” Brady ran his free hand through his hair, clutching the sheet with the other. “I do talk a lot when I’m drunk. And you were nice enough to give me a ride anyway. Sorry about that.”