Page 16 of Devil’s Kiss (Sunset Cove #2)

A FTER THE SHORT drive to the café, Derek took a seat in the far back corner and waited for Professor— no, Jordan to grab their coffees.

He took the moment by himself to watch the man at the counter talking animatedly with the barista, who was giving Jordan a sunny smile as he pointed to two pastries and then tapped his chin, as if thinking about what drink to order.

He’s my complete opposite , Derek thought as he continued to observe the guy, and once Jordan was handed their drinks, he tucked two paper bags under his arm and made his way through the practically empty tables to where Derek sat.

When he arrived and lowered down to place the drinks and food on the table, Jordan sighed. “Geez, Derek. Be sure to pick the farthest table next time.”

Derek shrugged, taking the grande coffee as Jordan slipped into the seat opposite him. “Sorry. I didn’t really want to have this conversation with anyone else listening.”

When understanding dawned in Jordan’s eyes, he asked, “Is this to do with your father?”

Derek gave a grim nod. “I see you’ve heard about the infamous Bud Pearson.”

“I haven’t heard much. But I’m a smart guy. I can put two and two together.”

“Yeah, I’ve read how smart you are. A real brainiac or something.”

Jordan winked as he raised his coffee cup to his lips and said, “Or something. I see you’ve been doing your homework.”

Derek studied the man eyeing him from across the table. “Well, I am in school, professor .”

Jordan scoffed. “Really? You’re calling me professor? You just told me in my car you want to?—”

“Fuck you? I know. I also told you that I wouldn’t because it’s too complicated.”

“Don’t be glib.”

“Who’s being glib? I’m dead serious. While it would be”—Derek ran his eyes over Jordan as he eyed him with a piqued expression that made his balls tighten—“an experience I’d never forget, I just have too much going on.”

Jordan leaned across the table, and Derek’s cock throbbed when he narrowed his eyes on him. “Trying to shock me? It won’t work. How about you stick to the real reason you called me. Not the fact that you can’t stop thinking about how much you want me to teach you a really solid lesson on?—”

“My knees?” Derek offered, and watched Jordan’s lips curl into a grin.

“I’m not going to bite, Derek.”

Derek flashed his teeth in a wicked grin. “Can I?”

“Lord save me from the bad boys,” Jordan said as he aimed his eyes to the ceiling.

“Is that what you think I am? A bad boy?”

“Have you seen you?”

Derek looked down at himself: jeans with a couple of holes in the legs, a white T-shirt, and his boots. Pretty standard for him, and boring compared to the guy seated opposite him. “What about me?”

Jordan reached for one of the paper bags on the table and shook his head. “You really don’t see it?”

“No?”

“The muscles, the tattoos, the nail polish. That attitude.”

“I don’t have an attitude.”

“Ha!” Jordan’s eyes widened, and then he tore open the brown paper bag. “You, my friend, are full of attitude.”

Derek frowned as Jordan pulled out a gooey-looking bar of?—

“ What is that?”

The grin that flashed across Jordan’s lips was wicked. Then he swiped his finger through the sticky amber and brought it to his mouth to suck it clean before letting out a dramatic moan. “A salted caramel bar. It’s delicious.”

No shit , Derek thought as he watched Jordan repeat the move.

But he wasn’t thinking about the caramel bar.

No sir. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man now reaching for his coffee as if he hadn’t just fellated his finger.

After Jordan took a sip of his drink, he glanced over at Derek to see why he wasn’t talking.

He cleared his throat and tried to remember that they weren’t here on a date.

“I’ll take your word for it. I don’t really like caramel.”

“Wait,” Jordan said, raising a hand, palm up. “You don’t like caramel?”

Derek sat back, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave a shrug. “No, not really. Sweets in general, actually.”

“Oh my God . What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I just don’t like them.”

Jordan looked him over. “Is it because of your workouts? You’re worried about putting on 0.001 percent of body fat? Because I have to tell you, one measly little bar won’t do it. And I’m sure your metabolism is off the charts anyway.”

Derek looked at the sticky bar sitting in front of Jordan and screwed his nose up in distaste. “Nah, that’s not it. It’s too rich or something. Maybe because I didn’t really grow up eating sweets? I don’t know. It just doesn’t appeal to me.”

Jordan slumped back in his chair and shook his head as he licked his fingers clean. “I’m horrified. Give me a minute.”

“Take all the time you need. I’ve got nowhere to go.”

Although Derek meant his words in an offhand way, the reality of them was so close to the truth that it automatically pulled him from his easygoing mood and propelled him right into a shit one. Something he didn’t hide well, apparently.

“Derek?” Jordan sounded wary as he reached across the table to touch Derek’s fingers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” He trailed off as their eyes met, and as the warmth of Jordan’s touch seeped into him, Derek stared over at the wide brown eyes looking back at him. “What happened with your dad?”

If he was going to do this, he needed some distance. So Derek slid his hand away and picked up his coffee. He took a sip and then flicked a brief look at the man now waiting for him.

“Nothing,” he said, and watched Jordan’s eyes rove over his face, as if he were trying to work out the underlying meaning to the word.

“What do you mean, nothing?”

“I’m not sure how much you know about my family…” He let his words hang between them, wondering how much of this festering wound he’d have to expose.

“Like I said earlier, I don’t know much, but I heard your father is…” Jordan hesitated, and that made Derek scoff.

“A drunk, homophobic prick?” he supplied.

“Well…”

“It’s okay. That’s putting it mildly. He’s a fucking monster. For most my life he conducted our conversations with his fists and had no problem telling his faggot son repeatedly that he disgusted him. Trust me when I say that nothing you call him is worse than what I’ve already thought.”

Jordan looked stunned by his words, but when the surprise melted away and was replaced by compassion, Derek got up and started pacing to rid himself of the adrenaline and fear that came from talking about the fucker.

It was as if thinking about him, or mentioning him, would somehow conjure his father right there with them.

“Derek, it’s okay. There’s no rush.” Jordan paused as if weighing his next words, then asked, “What happened?”

“He didn’t hit me for a change, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Does he usually?”

“Only when he’s been drinking.”

“And how often’s that?”

“Every hour or so.”

Derek thought he heard “fuck,” but he’d walked a little ways away before rounding back to head for Jordan.

“Okay. So what happened?”

Derek drew in a shaky breath and slid into the seat he’d previously vacated. “He kicked me out.”

To Jordan’s credit, he didn’t look shocked or horrified. This was actually the most serious Derek had ever seen the other man, and it was appreciated.

“Because you’re gay?”

“No. I mean, he always let me know how disgusting that was to him, but that wasn’t the reason he told me to go.”

“Then what was?”

“Money. The asshole wanted me to give him my paychecks. Man has some nerve asking me for anything after what he’s done to me. What he did to my mother…and family.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed the best he could around the lump caught in his throat.

Fuck, it all sounded so much worse when he said it out loud, and judging by the concerned expression on Jordan’s face, he agreed with that assessment one hundred percent.

JORDAN SWORE HE could hear every single sound in the coffee shop in stereo at that moment: the grinder of the beans, the steamer for the foam, and the two baristas gossiping behind the counter as the night slowly settled in.

Meanwhile, he was trying to decipher exactly what Derek was telling him.

Had he moved out? Was he living with his friend Daniel? Seemed like a possible solution, but just as Jordan was about to ask, Derek spoke.

“I’ve been staying at this piece-of-shit motel for the last week.

” He paused and then scowled, clearly annoyed.

“But last night there was an argument that got heated, and fuck…I don’t know.

It’s a shithole. Who the hell knows what goes on there.

When you’re paying by the night, no one asks any questions. ”

Jordan tried to keep any judgment off his face, but he’d never been particularly good at subterfuge, and the outrage he was currently feeling knowing that Derek had been sleeping at some seedy motel was difficult to contain.

The only thing that kept him from demanding why was the sheer frustration that was pouring off Derek in waves.

The guy was struggling to keep a hold on his temper, and he looked one word away from detonation.

Jordan thought about his next words carefully as he wondered what it would take to ease Derek right now. To help him relax back to the cocky badass he’d walked into the café with.

“So…where are you planning to stay tonight?”

Derek shrugged and picked his coffee up to take another sip. “Same place, I guess, until I can figure out an apartment or something.”

“Derek,” Jordan said, then swallowed his immediate impulse to offer up one of his spare rooms. “What about Daniel? I know the two of you are close.”

Derek shook his head. “No. I won’t do that to his mom. Mrs. Finley, she’s been through enough raising two kids on her own. She doesn’t need a third. Not to mention the added worry of my father turning up and causing shit.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t see it that way.”

“Yeah, but I would,” Derek said softly. “I can’t do that to her. I love that family like it’s my own. I wish it was.”