Page 4 of Devil’s Kiss (Sunset Cove #2)

What the hell is this? he thought as he sat up a little straighter in his seat. Who the fuck is this guy? Derek aimed a look toward Finn, who was grinning like a loon at the extra-perky bottle of energy bouncing around the front of the class, and that only confused Derek more.

Where is the stuffy old professor? Where is the gray-haired, sweater-wearing, doddering old professor?

That was when the guy at the front of the lecture hall stood in front of the podium and clasped his hands together.

“I suppose you’re all wondering who I am.

Well, let me clear that up for you in case you’re having any doubts.

My name is Professor Jordan Devaney. And over the next few months we’ll be exploring Pompeii together.

Sounds boring, I know. But do I really look like someone who’s going to bore you?

I don’t think so. Right. So, any questions before we get started? ”

Yeah, just one — what the actual fuck?

JORDAN HAD BEEN waiting for this moment ever since he’d decided to take the university job. The moment when that slack-jawed look of what the hell hit his students’ faces. Yes, that was exactly the expression he’d wanted to see, and they weren’t disappointing him in the least.

In all fairness, he mused, it could be my clothes.

He was glad he’d gone with his gut decision to be himself this morning. It was a good reminder to these kids that people didn’t necessarily come in specific molds, and he sure as hell didn’t fit into any. Especially not the typical uptight professor type.

He shuddered at the notion. There was only one way he ever wanted to be described as being tight, and it certainly wasn’t in regard to his personality.

As he let the announcement of who he was settle in and register, Jordan began pacing the front of the room and let his eyes trail over the faces staring down at him. That was when he noted their somewhat stunned expressions morphing into grins. That was the other reaction he’d hoped for.

Shock turned to excitement.

He didn’t want their first day to suck. Hell , he didn’t want his to either. The way he looked at it was that he was going to do everything in his power to make his class so damn exciting they’d be gagging for it.

Okay, so maybe not the best analogy to think of in the same sentence as his students. Strike one against being a responsible adult.

As he came to a standstill on the left-hand side of the room, he looked up the stadium seating and spotted two guys seated next to one another midway up the aisle. Each of them had a very different air about them.

One was grinning at him like a fool. Oh, honey, aren’t you a heartbreaker , Jordan thought, as his eyes trailed over him.

The guy had a wide, inviting smile that lit up his whole face with a youthful and beautiful quality.

He had long blond hair and twinkling eyes that seemed as bright as his grin.

The staple beach boy, harmless and carefree, but the guy next to him…

he was the complete opposite. Serious and sunglassed, he caught and held Jordan’s attention for very different reasons.

With spiky brown hair and muscles on top of muscles, he was exactly the kind of guy Jordan had imagined carrying his books moments earlier.

It was a miracle he could fit into the tiny seat he’d squeezed himself into.

As it was, he looked terribly uncomfortable, like a pack of sardines squashed into a tin can.

He had a snug black V-neck shirt on and, hello, swirling down around those thick arms were several intricate tattoos and, lord help me is that… yes, black nail polish.

From where he was standing, Jordan couldn’t see what his tattoos were of, but he was acutely aware of them. He was also fairly positive that the ink spread under the student’s shirt and across the built body it was molded to, which was the worst kind of torture he could’ve ever been faced with.

There was nothing he was more of a sucker for than tattoos.

No. Thaaat’s a lie, Jordan thought. I’m a total fool for muscles and tattoos. Strike two against being a responsible adult.

Damn it . This was not what he needed on his first day. He wanted sweet, eager students. Not unreadable ones whose entire demeanor screamed, Total. Badass.

But as the student continued to watch him, the barrier of the sunglasses and the tight set of his lips had one very immediate reaction rising to the surface.

No. No, no. There will be no rising of any kind . None . But there was no denying it—this guy made Jordan’s cock hard. And there you have it—strike three and I’m out before ten minutes has even passed.

While he stood there willing his dick to ignore its wayward fantasies of taming the bad boy, he took in the mirrored Aviators hiding the guy’s eyes and then walked forward, needing to get closer despite himself.

He was ashamed to admit it, but the unnerving way the student was watching him didn’t make Jordan want to tuck tail and run. If anything, it represented the one thing he enjoyed most in the world. The one thing that up until this very second had been missing—a challenge.

“You,” Jordan said, singling him out by pointing in his direction. When Mr. Muscles seemed to realize he was indicating him, his brow knitted together in a fierce furrow over those glasses.

“How about you remove your sunglasses while inside and tell us what most interests you about history and what you hope to get out of this class.”

Jordan watched as an eyebrow rose over the frame in a how ’bout you go fuck yourself expression, and it took everything in him not to respond.

This guy’s demeanor radiated a silent, otherworldly wisdom, as though he’d seen way more in his life than Jordan could ever begin to imagine, and all because of the don’t mess with me attitude he was exuding.

Jordan also had a feeling that when the guy decided to finally unfold himself from his seat he would be one hell of an intimidating presence. One that under any other circumstance he’d like to climb like a tree.

“Did you need me to repeat myself?” Jordan asked, knowing he needed to establish a firm line between student and teacher right away to keep his own perverse imaginings at bay, and that was when it happened.

As if he’d prodded the guy to the point of him not being able to resist, the student slowly got to his feet and— good God—Jordan hadn’t been wrong. He was built like a brick shithouse. A real-life He-Man.

“No. I heard you,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain but clear enough to be heard around the room. He then reached up and removed his sunglasses, tossing them down on the seat behind him, and Jordan’s breath caught in his throat.

Oh holy Jesus. There’d been a reason for the sunglasses beyond the attitude.

That was blatantly obvious now as he looked up into a face that had one frosty blue eye pinned on him, while the other struggled to open even a fraction of an inch.

The guy had clearly been on the receiving end of a very hard-hitting fist. Shit .

Before Jordan could get out the words to tell him to take a seat, He-Man crossed his arms over his chest in a move that dared Jordan to make a big deal out of it.

Obviously, he hadn’t wanted to draw attention to himself earlier, hence the sunglasses, but now that Jordan had inadvertently outed him, he wasn’t backing down for anyone.

His attitude oozed agitation and his stance was defiant.

All in all, he was pissed, and it was because Jordan had read the signals wrong.

Great. Off to a fantastic start with this one. How was I supposed to know he had a whopping great bruiser on his face? I wasn’t. So no harm. No foul. Act cool.

“Okay. Go ahead.”

He-Man swiped his tongue over his surly lip and then slipped his hands into his pockets. “What most interests me about the class?” he repeated.

Jordan nodded and watched He-Man give a careless shrug, as if he didn’t give a shit, which he probably didn’t.

And why is it that this kind of guy always floats my boat?

“Not much, really. I don’t see what history has to do with the degree I’m actually aiming for, but it was either this or physics, and I figured I was less likely to fall asleep in this one. So there’s that.”

Jordan’s lips pressed together at the sarcastic response just as the guy’s friend let out a disbelieving laugh. He slid his eyes to the blond in time to see him whack the huge thigh of the smartass standing beside him, and Jordan could feel his face flushing with annoyance.

No wonder he has a black eye. He thinks he’s hot shit. Karma, you are one fickle bitch.

As if the guy knew he’d pissed him off, the side of He-Man’s mouth quirked, and Jordan could feel the heat from his irritation bubbling under the surface.

“As for what I want to get out of it? A passing grade so I don’t have to retake the class seems like a good goal right this second.”

“Derek!”

And now I have a name…

“Derek, is it?” Jordan asked, and when Derek nodded once, he continued.

“I, too, hope you pass this class, though for reasons I’m sure differ from your own.

Why don’t you take a seat before you land on a shitlist beyond mine, which you have successfully taken the number one spot on within”—he glanced at the clock on the wall then back to his student—“ten minutes of being in my class.”

Deciding he needed to move on and have this exchange be over, Jordan turned his back on Derek and let his eyes rove over the other students watching with a mixture of incredulity and mirth on their faces.

For the rest of the class he didn’t call on Derek Pearson—yes, he soon learned his last name—but Jordan felt his gaze on him every time he spoke.

It wasn’t the scowl from earlier, or the curious interest of a student. No, it was something much more dangerous. Something he’d never been able to resist in the past. It was something that was going to make teaching this class much more difficult than he ever could’ve anticipated.

That look was bold and daring, it was in your face, and somehow Jordan knew he’d just met his “challenge.”