Page 21 of Tangled in Red

His big hands held Brett’s waist gently, which was a surprisingly soft touch given his size.

“This is where you wanted to have drinks?” He ran his fingers through his tangled hair, knowing it was a lost cause. It probably looked like flames shooting up toward the night sky.

Diablo dismounted, still looking a bit on edge. Brett had no clue what had happened back on the street, but he’d felt Diablo’s muscles tense up before he made that sharp U-turn.

“We can head inside through the back.” When Diablo tried to steer him toward the door, Brett pulled away from the hand on his lower back.

Diablo stopped, giving him a puzzled look.

“Just… give me a sec.” Brett needed a moment to deal with all the craziness and uncertainty swirling around him.

He rubbed his temples, shutting his eyes to block out the noise, but the ringing in his ears only intensified.

His hands were gently brushed aside, then he felt strong fingers massaging his temples with firm, circular movements.

Diablo didn’t say anything, but Brett could feel his presence—a warm, comforting wall right there in front of him. His scent was a mixture of dark and spice, with a hint of leather and sweat. It was a heady aroma that created a sense of safety and familiarity for Brett.

“Getting better?” Diablo’s voice was a quiet rumble against the chaos outside.

Instead of replying, Brett gripped Diablo’s wrists to ground himself. He focused on his breathing, on Diablo’s calming voice, and the steady touch between them.

Even with all the noise, Brett could hear the leaves rustling and the wind blowing.

Diablo’s thumbs took over, his callused fingers sliding to the back of Brett’s head, moving in a slow rhythm.

“I just—”

“No need to explain, shorty. Just focus on my fingers,” he murmured. “Trust me. You’re not the only one who’s felt anxiety gripping them by the balls.”

With his eyes still closed, Brett grinned. “You’ve got a unique way of looking at things.”

Brett’s mind was quieted by the low rumble of laughter that echoed through his senses.

“Funny, I could say the same about you, hon.”

Now that he wasn’t on the verge of losing it, he caught a whiff of fried chicken, onion rings, and... he took a deeper sniff. Something more robust and comforting, but he couldn’t figure it out.

Steak or maybe pot roast? Whatever it was, it had Brett’s mouth watering.

Diablo slowly spun him around and started working his thumbs into Brett’s shoulders. “You have magic fingers,” he groaned, letting his head drop forward.

“Me encantaría mostrarte lo mágicos que son,” Diablo whispered in his ear.

“Whatever you say.” Brett was too relaxed to try and repeat what he’d said.

Those strong hands slid down Brett’s sides and settled on his hips. “Translation.” He traced Brett’s ear with his tongue. “I would love to show you just how magical they are.”

Oh hell. Brett’s eyes snapped open, staring at the brick wall as his cock grew hard. Ever since meeting Diablo, he’d had countless fantasies, each involving naked, sweaty bodies and that deep voice he’d jacked off to more than once.

Maybe twenty times, but who was counting? “Sí, poor favor.”

Diablo wrapped his arms around Brett from behind, a soft chuckle making Bett shiver a little. “Sí, por favor,” he corrected with a teasing tone. “Unless you really want to do me a poor favor?”

With a playful elbow nudge, Brett repeated the correct pronunciation, grinning in triumph when he nailed the tongue roll.

“Muy bueno, elegido.” Diablo kissed just behind Brett’s ear. “Podría enseñarte muchas cosas, precioso.”

He’d said it too fast for Brett to repeat. “You have to go slower, Diablo.”

---