Devil's Kiss (Sunset Cove #2) (32 page)

“Hey,” he said as he came around in front of the recliner. When his father didn’t budge, Derek took a second to look over the man whose legs were sprawled out on the ripped vinyl of the upturned footrest.
 

The greasy hair sticking out at all angles and the unshaven face aged him considerably. He barely resembled the monster that Derek remembered.

“Hey,” he said again, louder this time, punctuating it with a kick to the footrest. He’d be damned if he was going to be polite to this piece of trash.

His father roused, and tried to sit up, but his hand slipped off the armrest and he slumped back down, clutching his head. “Fuck, do you gotta be so loud?”

“Apparently,” Derek said, crossing his arms. “Why aren’t you ready?”

His father hacked and coughed as he struggled to sit up while at the same time tucking the footrest back under the chair. When the task seemed too much of a monumental effort, Derek raised his leg and, with the sole of his boot, shoved the footrest under the couch with a little more force than necessary.
 

His father rocked forward on the chair and glared up at him. “Watch it, boy.”

Derek told himself not to flinch, but old habits died hard. When the asshole got to his towering height of six foot four, Derek took a step back, but he wasn’t quick enough. His father got a hold of the middle of his shirt and yanked him forward. Derek’s palm shot out to hold him at bay, and his father narrowed his eyes.
 

“After all these years, you’re still a fucking pussy. Afraid of your old man.”

Derek wrapped his fingers around his father’s wrist and ripped it from his shirt. “You don’t scare me,” he spat, as he shoved his father away. “And you know why? I got away from you. You hold no power here,
old
man.”

“Don’t I? Last time I saw you, you were on your ass crying like a little queer—”

“Shut your mouth,” Derek barked, the reminder of that final beating his father had dished out bringing to the surface his barely restrained anger.
 

“What are you even doin’ here?”

“I’m here to take you to the clinic. Alan didn’t tell you?” Derek looked around the dump he used to call home, and then back to the fucker in front of him. “Of course he didn’t,” he said. “This place smells like shit.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Disgust radiated through Derek as he kicked an empty Chinese container on the floor. “Really?” he asked, and walked back through the living room, past the kitchen, to the front door. “You hadn’t noticed this place looks like a fucking pigsty? You’re gonna have roaches crawling through here soon enough,” he said with his hand on the doorknob. “What time’s Alan get home?”

“What’s it matter to you? Boy’s got a real job, he does. Not like you who thinks he’s a real hotshot. Dontcha, Derek? With your overpriced gym full of fags and pretentious dicks willing to pay out the ass to stare at each other bending over all day.”

Derek bit the inside of his cheek so hard that the metallic taste of blood hit his tongue and he told himself to just go.
Just leave him there to rot. It’s what he deserves.
 

But something inside him, obviously some sick and twisted part, couldn’t make himself leave.

“I’ll be out in the car. You’ve got five fucking minutes and then I’m leaving. Whether you’re dead on the floor or not.”

He didn’t bother waiting for an answer. He needed to get away from the guy before he lost what little hold he had on his temper. Who knew what he was capable of when pushed far enough, and with the amount of rage he harbored toward that man, it was a miracle he hadn’t beaten him and left him dead already.

Jesus, how is this my goddamn life again?
He was right back in the same fucked-up scenario he’d been in as a child. But what was the alternative? Knowingly letting the man die? Because he would, and soon, without medical intervention.
 

Derek looked toward the faded yellow door and cursed the universe yet again for the crappy hand he’d been dealt. Why was he the one burdened with the ability to help this man, when he’d done nothing but try to destroy him?
 

He’d wanted to say go to hell to both his brother and his father…but when it had come down to it, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to say no.

The situation was beyond fucked.
 

He felt cornered. Like a trapped animal, and he knew by the end of today he would either need boxing gloves and a bag—or Jordan.
 

* * *

JORDAN SAT ON his couch with the phone pressed to his ear while he and Brantley discussed whether he should serve a rack of lamb or surf and turf tomorrow night at Finn’s get-together.
 

Jordan gave the question careful consideration and then asked, “Surf and turf with lobster?”

“Of course. What do you think?”

“Sounds delicious. Don’t even think about buying drinks, though; I’ve got those covered. Is there anything Daniel doesn’t like?”

Brantley covered the mouthpiece and called out over his shoulder, then said, “No. He’s easy.”

“I was talking about the wine selection, Professor Hayes. Not his behavior in the bedroom.”

Jordan heard a smile in Brantley’s tone when he answered, “Who said I was talking about his behavior in the
bed
room?”

“Oh, look at you finally making sex jokes about your younger man.”

Brantley laughed. “Speaking of younger men. How is
yours
this evening?”

“He is not mine…”

“Isn’t he? So you’re trying to tell me you won’t be turning up to our place tomorrow night with Derek Pearson. A.k.a. owner of Pearson’s Total Fitness, a.k.a. He-Man.”

Jordan couldn’t help the ridiculous grin on his face as he twirled the stem of his wine glass between his fingers. “I’m not telling you anything.”

He could practically hear Brantley’s frown through the phone as he said his name.

“
What
?” Jordan asked.

“At least have the decency to tell me if I need to hide the fine china if you are bringing someone other than Derek. I’d hate for World War Three to break out in my dining room. Oh, I’m sorry, World War Four. Three happened a few months back at Boyz.”

“You know, I think Daniel Finley is rubbing off on you. You’ve become quite petulant lately.”

There was a shuffling sound and then Daniel’s voice came through the phone. “Listen up, Posh, I know you’re bringing Derek, because he told me. So let me extend the same advice to you that you once gave me: If you hurt him, I will hunt you down and have your perfect, overpriced balls for breakfast, you got that?”

“Overpriced?” Jordan said. “I’ll have you know—” He was cut off by the buzzing of his intercom. Getting to his feet, he walked over to press the button to show him who was by the elevator. Derek looked up at him, and any other words that Daniel was saying were drowned out.

If a picture was worth a thousand words, the one he was staring at portrayed anguish and pain in a single image.

Derek’s eyes held his as Jordan punched the button to let him inside, and even as Derek vanished from the screen, Jordan told Daniel he had to go, and switched to the camera inside the elevator. Just as he had a week ago, Derek stared up at him the entire ascent.
 

He knew that look. He’d seen it on his man before. It was the look of someone who needed his demons exorcised, and knowing where Derek had been today, Jordan knew exactly which demon it was.

He let go of the VIEW button and stood there waiting for Derek’s arrival.
 

When the elevator finally got to his floor and the door opened, Jordan held his hand out and said, “Come with me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

DEREK SLIPPED HIS hand into Jordan’s and let him lead. After spending a nauseating amount of time with a human being he’d rather never see again, it was a relief to be back in
this
man’s presence.

During the hour he’d spent sitting in his car waiting for his father’s “therapy” to be done, he’d told himself, over and over,
never again.
He’d had to listen to his father’s sick diatribe the entire way to and from the facility, not to mention his entire life, and never would he subject himself to it again. No matter what.

After Derek had dropped him back at the house, he’d driven around for a good two or maybe three hours, trying to calm himself down. But it was no use. Nothing was touching the energy that was coursing through his veins.

Jordan hadn’t said a word since he’d stepped off the elevator, but Derek knew by the way his fingers had interlaced through his that what he needed was evident. Instead of heading straight to Jordan’s bedroom, Jordan directed him through to the master en suite and flicked on the lights.

This bathroom had always been one of Derek’s favorite fantasies. But it was a place he’d never allowed himself to set foot in after the night he’d sat on a chair and Jordan had cleaned up his bruised and broken face. The same night he’d first decided he needed to put some distance between himself and his beloved professor, for Jordan’s safety.

Tonight was a different story altogether.

Derek let his eyes sweep around the lavish space and, as always, he got stuck on the massive claw-foot whirlpool tub that stood alone in front of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean. It was debauched, decadent, almost to the point of obscene, to think you were stripping down and anyone could see, but really, no one was out there.
 

On the opposite wall was a shower that ran the entire length of it. There were jets at every possible angle a person could imagine, and at each end was a handheld showerhead. That shower was designed with one thing in mind, and getting clean was
not
it.

“Strip.”
 

The word was clipped, spoken in a voice that sent a bolt of desire directly to Derek’s balls, and he immediately went about doing what he was told.

He kicked off his flip-flops and then reached over his shoulder and gathered a handful of his shirt and pulled it off. When he tossed it on the ground, he heard an appreciative groan from the opposite side of the room, where the tub was, and saw Jordan leaned up against it with eyes glued to what he was doing.

“And the shorts,” Jordan said, and then dragged his teeth over his lower lip.

Derek unbuttoned his shorts and shoved them and his briefs from his hips, and once he was completely naked Jordan crooked a finger at him. Derek walked across the tiled floor, conscious of the window-lined wall, and when he arrived opposite Jordan he stopped and looked down at the man, still fully clothed, resting against the tub.

Jordan cocked his head to the side and gazed up from his perch, and Derek was, as always, fascinated by the enigma before him.
 

No one who met Jordan would ever imagine the side of him that he was about to unleash on Derek, and that was what made him unique. He was carefree, fun, and effervescent. But as Derek had learned over the course of their on again/off again relationship, when that bedroom door shut and Jordan’s clothes came off, his partner better fucking brace himself, because he’d soon learn what a bright mind and an endless amount of energy could conjure up.

As a tense silence filled the air, Jordan got to his feet and raised his head until his lips were a whisper away from Derek’s jaw. He breathed out and snapped his teeth shut like he wanted to take a bite of him, and the warmth of his breath and promise of that sound had Derek’s fists clenching by his sides.

Fuck.
He hadn’t even touched him yet and Derek’s cock was so hard it hurt.

Without a word, Jordan stepped to the side and walked around behind him. Derek could see their reflections in the window, but he didn’t need it to know that Jordan was close by. He could feel the whisper of fabric from his clothes brushing against his naked skin, just as he could sense Jordan’s body heat.

“There are so many things I want to do to you. I’m trying to decide where to begin.”

Derek’s skin broke out in gooseflesh at the illicit pledge as five strong fingers smoothed up the back of his neck and into his hair. Jordan twisted his hand and caught hold of the strands in a firm grip as his lips landed on Derek’s shoulder blade.

“I can’t decide what I want to put in you first.”

Derek panted as Jordan scraped his teeth along his skin and continued to tug and pull at his hair in a sensual massage.

“My tongue. My fingers. Or should I just bypass those and go directly to my cock?”
 

Derek groaned at the image the words produced, and let his eyes fall shut as Jordan kept right on seducing him.
 

“Mhmm, or maybe I should start with none of those.
Maybe
I’ll go and get something to ease you back into the idea of me fucking you all. Night. Long.”

“Jesus, Jordan,” Derek said, and gave up the fight to not touch himself as he wrapped his fingers around the root of his cock.

Jordan ran his fingers down from Derek’s hair to the nape of his neck and dug them into the tense cords of muscle there. It felt amazing as Derek continued to stroke his cock in time with each sharp dig of Jordan’s knuckles.

“I’m going to work this tension out of you one muscle at a time, if need be. So you better settle in and slow down that hand of yours, because we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

Jordan punctuated his vow by sinking his teeth into Derek’s shoulder and flicking his tongue over the tattooed sword that decorated the skin just below. Then he trailed his fingers down Derek’s spine to the crack of his ass and said, “Wash up and meet me in the bedroom. And Derek?”

He waited until he could find his tongue, and then he managed, “Yeah?”

Jordan found his eyes in the window and said, “The first time you come tonight is going to be my way. So don’t even think about getting off in the shower or I’ll send you home. Understand?”

Derek slowly nodded, and Jordan’s inner minx shone through in the grin he flashed, and the way he swatted his ass.
 

“Good boy.”

* * *