Page 88 of Devil's Kiss
Jordan was something else when irritated. Derek had thought that from day one, and right now was no different. Naked, spread out beneath him, and pinned to the sleeping bag, Jordan Devaney was still ready to tell him to go and get screwed.
“Maybe I want to try out the other part of your little speech before I let you have my body.”
Jordan adopted a bored look that had Derek kissing him again until he panted. “And what part is that?”
Derek shifted off the top of him, and Jordan pinned him with shrewd eyes.
“I want to wake up with you.”
“You dirty cheat. Using my words against me.”
He tugged Jordan to him, and he only put up a token protest before scooting to his other side so he could fit his ass to Derek’s cock.
Derek groaned.
“Serves you right,” Jordan huffed. “And you better keep your hands to yourself.”
“Oh yeah? Or what?”
“Or when youdofinally decide to put out, I might hold out on you.”
Derek chuckled as he draped a leg over the top of Jordan, and marveled at the way he snuggled back, as if he wanted to be completely surrounded by him.
That right there.Thatmade everything Derek had been through in life worth it, because there was nowhere on earth he’d rather be.
Chapter 24
FRIDAY ARRIVED BEFORE Derek was ready, and as he drove down his childhood street at a slow crawl, nausea roiled through his gut. He couldn’t believe he was back there—of his own volition.
As he navigated his vehicle between the ones parked at the curbside, he saw Finn’s mother’s car and stared longingly at the home he’d once wished was his own. It’d been so great to reconnect with Finn recently, and just like back in the day, Mrs. Finley had welcomed him into her home with a warm smile and a hug.
But he wasn’t on this street today for a hug and a pat on the back,no. He was there to do something he never would’ve believed himself capable of years ago. It had taken him weeks to come to terms with the fact that he washelpinghis father, but now that he was there driving down a street that for him ended in hell, he wondered if he’d lost his sanity.
As he pulled to a stop at the curb of his father’s home, he took a moment to try to calm his nerves.God,what he wouldn’t do to be anywhere other than there today.
As the engine idled, he tapped his thumb on the steering wheel and counted back from twenty.
Just get in and get out. You only have to get through the next few hours and then you can forget about this place.
And therein lay the problem. Knowing that he had to be in the fucker’s presence for even five seconds was what caused the heartburn. Because even though he knew he could leave at any time, it didn’t do shit to help with the fact that he felt obligated to do this in the first fucking place.
After grabbing the keys from the ignition, he made himself get the hell out of the car before he drove away. He marched up the cracked pavement of the concrete path and shook his head at the weeds growing in between them. The two banana trees he and his brother had planted when they were boys swayed in the breeze, causing the large leaves to drag against the once yellow shutters of the classic-style “Conch House.” The paint was chipping off the wooden boards that made up the old shack, and the swing that used to sit invitingly on the porch now hung off one chain—broken.
A true representation of the family who’d once lived there.
He hadn’t been back in years, and he’d stopped thinking about the occupants the same day he’d left. That was, until his brother had recently tracked him down.
Wanting to get this over with, he didn’t bother to stop and knock, and instead opened the door and stepped inside. The depressing gloom that greeted him went hand in hand with the familiar stench of cigarettes and alcohol, and when the door shut behind him the walls seemed to close in, making it even more difficult to breathe.
He peered through the haze and shadows to the place where he knew he’d find him, and sure as shit, there was his father. His ass was planted in his beat-up vinyl recliner facing the one window he’d bothered to open for air—passed out.
Fucking hell,Derek thought, as he walked over the crushed beer cans on the floor. He spotted a pizza box on the counter with the lid askew, lifted it the rest of the way, and cringed. Half the pizza was gone, and the other half was at least a couple days old.
“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.