Page 28 of Devil’s Kiss (Sunset Cove #2)

Three Years Later

D EREK TOOK A final look at himself in the mirror and then wandered out into the living room he shared with Dylan Prescott.

They’d recently moved up in the world. Well, that was what he liked to think.

They’d vacated the little dump they’d lived in throughout college and moved into a three-bedroom with two baths that overlooked the beach further down from where they used to live.

With him now managing the gym where he’d worked for years, and Dylan making a living through his catalogue modeling gigs, the two of them made enough to be able to split the rent on the bigger place and enjoy a little more comfort than what they’d once had, and tonight…

tonight his buddy Dylan had once again talked him into doing something monumentally stupid.

“I feel like a fucking idiot,” Derek grumbled as he walked around the couch where Dylan was sitting.

“Why? Because you actually had to make an effort—” When Dylan caught sight of Derek, his words stopped and he got to his feet to look him over.

For the first time in his life, and hopefully the last, Derek was dressed in a tuxedo. The jacket and pants he was wearing had been measured to perfectly fit his body, and while he conceded he looked pretty damn good, he’d left his black nail polish on for a bit of fuck you flare.

“Shit, man, you look hot. Very James Bond.”

Derek tugged on the lapels of the jacket and shrugged. “Yeah? You think?”

“Umm…yeah.” Dylan walked over to him, dressed in an almost identical outfit, except for the additions of the black buttons on his white shirt.

When he stopped in front of Derek, he laid a familiar palm over the lapel on his chest and smoothed it up to his shoulder, where he flicked away a piece of lint.

“You’re going to make us a lot of money tonight. ”

Derek screwed his nose up. “I think if anyone’s gonna make money for this damn auction, it’s going to be you.”

“Have you seen yourself? Derek, you look… Just trust me. There’s going to be a very broke man tonight because he’s going to have to outbid everyone else that’s going to fight for you. Including myself.” Dylan gave him a thorough once-over. “Damn, I had no idea you’d clean up this good.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, no. I don’t mean it like that. It’s just…I only ever see you in gym clothes or your jeans. But this. This takes you to a whole other level.”

“Down, boy.” Derek chuckled. “Put on a suit and Prescott becomes easy—who knew? Stop looking at me like you want to suck my dick or I just might take you up on the offer.”

Dylan laughed at that. “Bullshit. We tried that when you first moved in with me, and that was an epic fucking fail. But if you ever think you could be interested in the one whose hand is actually in your pants instead of the one you constantly daydream about…I’m willing to try again.”

“You’re hilarious, asshole.”

“Hey, I’m just saying. You’re the one with the little—or should I say big —issue. I mean, the equipment is definitely all there. It’s just not wanting to come out and play—with me.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at his roommate. The pretty bastard was having way too much fun at his expense. “Done?”

Dylan gave a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, I guess. But even you have to admit, it was an epic fail.”

Derek laughed at the memory. He was right; there were no two ways about it.

When he’d first moved in with Dylan, they’d gotten drunk one night and things had progressed from flirtatious comments to a few kisses and a lot of hands.

Then, well, Dylan had slipped his fingers down his shorts and Derek had been all for a hand job from the gorgeous guy.

However, his cock hadn’t cooperated, and even after Dylan had tried his hardest to pump some life into it, it wasn’t having any of it.

Nope. His dick had wanted one person only.

Jordan. God . It felt like that had always been the case, and always fucking would be.

But since he avoided Jordan like the plague, Derek had made it somewhat of a mission to track down men of similar builds and temperament to his feisty former professor.

He knew that was fucked up, but hey, what else was new when it came to him?

Which got Derek thinking. When was the last time he’d gone out and hooked up? Had it really been months ago? He needed to get out more, and his brain and body needed to stop fixating on something he could never have again.

“Yeah, no offense,” Derek finally said. “But one major fail with you is all I think my ego can handle.”

“Ha,” Dylan barked. “Yeah, right. You have more attitude in your little finger than most men have in their entire body. And just because you didn’t get it up that night, doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy imagining it later in my room by myself.

You let me see all those tattoos on your body, and… Yeah, that was all it took.”

“Damn, I had no idea you were in there jacking off to me each night, Prescott.”

“Yeah, right. Don’t flatter yourself. After living with you as long as I have, all my fantasies are long since gone. Trust me.”

Derek chuckled and snagged the keys off the kitchen table. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, wise guy, remind me again what happens after some strange man purchases me for the night.”

“Well, you collect the check. The money goes to the True Colors Fund, then you go on a date with him.”

Derek looked doubtful. “And that’s it?”

Dylan nodded as he scooped up his own keys. “That’s it. Dinner. A movie. Whatever floats his boat.”

“What if wall-banging sex floats his boat?”

Dylan headed to the door with Derek following behind. “Then hope it’s someone you’d like to crush against a wall?”

“Gee, you’re a lot of help, Prescott. Can I refuse? Do they know we aren’t on sale for sex?”

“Aww, are you worried about your virtue?” Dylan quipped as they headed for Derek’s Jeep. He’d purchased it a couple of months ago, and as he popped the locks, he flipped his roommate off.

“Hey, if I don’t worry about it, no one will. And I just want to know the rules up front.”

As Dylan climbed inside the car, he shrugged.

“The men are aware of the bidding rules, but I’ve gotta be honest. If I won you for the night, I’d totally try for the wall-banging sex.

” Derek glanced over at his passenger, and Dylan winked.

“I mean, a movie would not be my first choice. At least not the kind of movies they show at public theaters.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Good to know the way to your heart, and dick, is through a simple tuxedo.”

Dylan shrugged. “What can I say—there’s something about a man in a tux.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re looking pretty sharp yourself. But no touching tonight, Prescott…not unless you pay me.” Derek laughed at himself. “God, that sounds so wrong. Okay, let’s get going. Apparently I have some rich schmuck waiting to take me on a date.”

JORDAN WASN’T SURE why he’d let Brantley drag him along to the Gay and Lesbian Community Center tonight. This wasn’t the way he usually liked to go about donating toward causes he believed in, and he believed strongly in helping the homeless youth among the LGBTQ community. But really, an auction?

He’d almost laughed when Brantley asked him, because he was the last person Jordan would ever expect to turn up to one of these events. But then Brantley had admitted he wanted to get out more and maybe meet someone new and see if…well, just see “if,” and who was Jordan to say no to that?

Ever since Daniel Finley had moved to Chicago, Jordan had been trying to get Brantley back out into the dating world for what felt like forever, and he would just about mortgage a fucking house to buy the guy a date if that was what it took to have him sit down and eat a meal with a man whom he might have something in common with. Or at least have really good sex with.

Lord knows the guy could do with a couple of rounds in a bed with a hot guy to remind him how to use the appendage between his legs.

But it was none of Jordan’s business what Brantley did, or who, for that matter. He just hated seeing his friend so isolated when he was such a good catch for some lucky guy.

So there he was, standing at the back of an auditorium full of horny men ranging in age, pretending to be there to support a good cause, when really, it was just an added benefit of ogling all the eye candy about to be paraded on stage and the chance to date someone way out of their league.

Well, out of their league. Let’s be real.

With a glass of Chardonnay in hand, Jordan leaned into Brantley and asked, “So do they have a menu of sorts?”

“A menu?” Brantley asked, his eyes wide.

“Why do you look so shocked? Surely it makes sense that we get to see what it is we’ll be purchasing. Right? You get a catalogue at an auction house, so I figured with all the prime beef they’re about to display, we would get a menu here.”

“Jordan,” Brantley said.

Jordan frowned and then looked back to the stage, where several men were muscling to get closer to the runway. “What? That’s why I’m here, right? I mean you. That’s why you’re here. I’m not bidding. I currently have my hands full, thank you very much.”

Brantley smiled, and Jordan felt himself reciprocate. He’d been seeing Dr. Stephan Reid for a couple of months now, and things were going…well.

Stephan worked over at the local hospital, and that was where they’d first met.

Jordan had been coming out of a meeting where he’d donated funds to an expansion of the children’s wing, and they’d literally run into one another and hit it off.

Since then, they’d gone out to dinner several times, and one night they’d even gone to the local symphony, and all in all it was going… well.