Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Had he and Tanaka…? No. He would have remembered that. God, what if he didn’t remember that?
The flavor was worse than the smell. Brady grimaced and choked when he reached the dregs at the bottom. “This tastes like swamp and shame.”
Tanaka removed the cup from his white-knuckled grasp and set it down beside the bed. “That means it’s working. It’s my recipe for demon cleansing. Foul, but it usually does the trick. Of course I’ve never been stupid enough to down three bottles of rum in one night, so I make no guarantees, but in a few minutes you should feel like a new man. You might even thank me.”
Three bottles? It was a miracle he wasn’t in the ER. Right now he would give just about anything to be a new man. One who didn’t have to wonder whether or not he had something to apologize for. “Thanks.”
“Damn, I’m good. It’s working already.”
“Smartass.” Brady took a bracing breath and looked up into the face that had starred in all his fantasies for the last few months. More beautiful than handsome, Ken Tanaka had the kind of looks that no one, male or female, would be able to ignore.
He was shirtless—a state he seemed to prefer—and his smooth honeyed skin stretched tight over all his lean muscle. Brady’s fingers twitched with the need to reach out and touch him, to trace the tattoo that trailed down Ken’s right arm and, Brady knew, completely covered his back. To wrap his fingers around the waist-length, midnight-black braid that was falling over one shoulder like heavy silk.
His gaze returned to Tanaka’s face so he wouldn’t be tempted to linger below his well-defined stomach muscles and realized that Ken was shamelessly returning the favor. Thickly lashed eyes, which changed in hue from dark amber to molten gold, were studying Brady’s body in a way that made him keenly aware of the fact that there was nothing but a thin sheet draped over his lap. A drape that was quickly morphing into a tent to house his growing erection.
Classy, Finn.
At least one part of his body still worked. At this point he’d take any silver lining he could find, including the fact that Ken was wearing pants.
But how long had they been on? Brady refused to believe he’d ever forget a naked Ken Tanaka. Just the thought of the man without any clothing was enough to heighten his arousal.
“I don’t remember much about last night…” he started, letting his voice trail off as he tried to casually shift enough to conceal his hard-on.
“Hold that thought. Let me get you that glass of water.”
Brady closed his eyes, grateful for the momentary reprieve. Think of water, he told himself. Ice. Antarctica. He needed to nip this in the bud before it got out of hand, because at some point he was going to have to leave this bed and find his clothes and a bathroom, and he’d prefer not to prove how little control he had around Tanaka.
At the sound of light footsteps and tinkling ice, he opened his eyes and accepted the glass Ken handed him. “Thank you.”
“Define much,” Ken ordered with narrowed eyes.
Brady took a long, careful sip before saying, “Well, I don’t know how I got here.”
“In my car. You were in no shape to drive your motorcycle.”
When Ken didn’t offer any further clues, Brady said pointedly, “I’m also not sure where my clothes are.”
“The ones you were wearing are in the dryer. The rest are still packed, I imagine.”
Brady frowned. Was Ken being vague on purpose? Was he having fun at his expense or just trying to find the right way to tell him exactly how out of line he’d been?
Struggling to fill in the blanks himself, he said, “I was talking to Owen. He wanted my advice about Jeremy. I remember that clearly because I couldn’t get over the fact that he was finally asking.”
“Oh, I know. It was obvious you had a lot to say on the subject,” Ken said, sitting down beside him with a glint in his eyes.
Brady almost choked on his next sip of water. “You were there?”
“Not for the live performance, no. But I did watch the replay.”
Live performance? Replay? “I don’t understand.”
“It might be easier to swallow if I tell you a story. Once upon a time, some idiot at a bar thought it would be fun to record his friends getting drunk. When a conversation between two tipsy Irishmen got everyone’s attention, he trained his camera on them. It was so good he uploaded it to YouTube, sure it would be more popular than the Instagram account he’d made for his cats.”
“You’re fucking with me.” Brady was horrified.
Ken shook his head and revealed the phone in his hand. “I’m not. I have it queued up right here.”